"Ha!" cried the daughter, "there is fire. It cannot be the lightning! Mamma! Papa!"
The urgency of her tone brought them both to the window. A red glare streamed over the lawn, and shone bright upon the dripping trees. Fire was there indeed.
Gabriel Denis, by this time wild with passion and excitement, had soon discovered the means of gratifying his turbulent desires. A range of farming offices, with some ricks, stretched to the west, and therefore to windward, of the hall. Let these be once kindled, and inactivity would soon give way to riot and confusion. The smuggler had not forgotten his tinder-box. He crept down into the homestead, found a convenient nook, and soon lighted a flame, which nothing but the speediest and most energetic exertion could hinder the furious wind from converting into a great conflagration.
Unhappily the tempest, closing doors and fastening shutters, prevented an immediate discovery of the blaze, and the heavy rain was powerless to check its progress under the fanning of the gale. The interior of the corn-stack, fired by Gabriel, rapidly became a furnace, while volumes of steam and smoke rolled from the wetted thatch, and were shortly followed by jets of flame bursting from the inside. Then masses of burning straw were lifted aloft by the wind and cast on the neighbouring ricks and wooden barns, and in scarcely more time than is occupied by this description, the homestead was evidently doomed to destruction, and the safety of the hall was become very problematical.
It was just then that Mildred summoned her father and mother to the window.
"Hark!" she said, "Was not that a shout? See, there are people running across the lawn, and under the trees. But, oh, what a light!"
Terrified domestics rushed into the parlour.
"The house is beset—hundreds of men—What can be done? What can be done?"
These exclamations were mingled with loud cries of "fire," from within and without the mansion. In the confusion, Esther Pendarrel seemed alone to preserve her presence of mind.
"Done!" she said. "The engine! The horses! Ride! Run! To Helston, and to Marazione! Raise the people! Bring down the soldiers! Away with you; and let us see where the fire is. And you, sir, look to your arms. Beset! Nonsense!"