Chapter 29

THE GIPSY'S PROPHECY.

True to his resolve, Dan left his camp after supper in order to assure himself that Meg had arrived safely at home. As he mounted the hill he heard confused shouts, and, on looking upward, beheld an unusual glow in the sky. Filled with fresh alarm at these portents he increased his pace, and was soon on the summit of the ridge overlooking Farbis. To his astonishment he saw that the Court was in flames, and that the shouts were those of the villagers hastening to extinguish the conflagration. Only for a moment did he survey the unaccustomed scene, then ran down to the village at top speed.

"Great heavens!" he thought, "can that woman have killed Meg, and set fire to the place to conceal her crime?"

This seemed to be the true explanation to his agitated mind, the more so as, in racing down the street, he ran against a man wringing his hands, and crying aloud. It was Dr. Merle.

"Where is Meg? Is she safe?" demanded Dan, pausing a moment in his headlong career.

"No, no!" wailed Merle, "she went to see Miss Linisfarne. She is at----"

But Dan waited to hear no more. His worst forebodings appeared likely to be realized; and, frantic with dread at the danger of Meg, he sped on to the Court. He arrived in time to see the iron gates wrenched off their hinges by the stalwart arms of the villagers, who afterwards poured in through the gate. Carried along with the disorderly crowd up the avenue, Dan found himself at the elbow of the vicar.

"Jarner, Jarner! Meg!"

"What of her?" asked the parson, with anxiety. "Is she not with her father?"

"No! She went to the Court to see Miss Linisfarne."

"Great heavens!" muttered Jarner, in alarm. "Can it be that----"

"For God's sake, Jarner, don't suppose anything so horrible," burst out Dan; "it is impossible. Meg must be safe."

"Safe in that!" said Jarner, pointing to the Court, at the back of which red flames shot upward to the stars amid black clouds of smoke.

"If harm comes to her I'll kill Miss Linisfarne."

"I hope she has not killed herself! We must rescue both, if we can."

"But the fire--the fire! Cannot it be put out?" cried Dan, as they mounted the terrace.

"There is no water."

Dan clenched his fists! It was horrible to think of the danger in which Meg was placed. The few servants were gathered together on the terrace, and the front door was wide open. In answer to the vicar's questions they said that both Miss Linisfarne and Meg were in the house. The housekeeper had seen them go towards the west wing. It was that part of the house that was on fire.

"I must save her," said Dan, shaking himself free from Jarner's grasp; "let me go."

He ran into the hall, and up the stairs. As he did so a huge form shot past him, and he saw to his astonishment that it was Tim. The face of the gipsy was quite pale, and he raced up the stairs with such rapidity as even to distance Dan.

"Tim, Tim! Where is the west wing?"

"I know, rye! Follow me!"

The front of the house was quite safe, as the fire was confined to the west wing, and they rapidly threaded a maze of corridors. Tim seemed to know the way, and at length paused before a door. He tried to open it, but found it locked.

"This leads to the west wing. They are in there. Help me to break it down."

Without answer Dan threw himself against the door. Strong as he was it would not yield to his efforts. They could hear the crackling of the flames, and trembled to think of the two women shut up in that furnace. Tim put his shoulder to the door, and Dan assisted with all his strength. It cracked and yielded and fell back. With a shout they prepared to rush in, but were driven back by the fierce flames. The whole interior of the corridor was in fire, and the smoke rolled out in blinding clouds. Tim dropped on his hands and knees, and crept forward. Dan heard him shout.

"What is it, Tim?"

"Here is one! Miss Linisfarne--Laura!"

In the excitement of the moment Dan gave no attention to the utterance of Miss Linisfarne's Christian name by the gipsy. He thought of nothing but the girl he loved.

"Meg! Meg! Where is Meg?"

"I don't know," said Tim, who appeared at that instant, bearing in his arms the inanimate body of Miss Linisfarne. "Let us take this one to a place of safety."

"But Meg! Meg will be burnt to death!" cried Dan, and made a frantic rush forward. The flames sent him back, and he was almost stifled by the smoke. It was utterly impossible to pass that barrier of flame in search of Meg.

At right angles to where he stood there was a window. As the passage was full of smoke, Dan darted to this, and smashed the glass. As the cold air rushed in he thought he heard a cry. Without considering what he was doing, he clambered out on to the sill of the window, and saw the whole length of the west wing stretching towards the hill. The flames flared upward through the roof, but the side was as yet untouched by the fire. It was as bright as day, and, clinging to the ivy some distance along, Dan saw the figure of a woman.

"Meg! Meg!" he shouted. "Hold on! I am here!"

"Dan, save me!"

She had succeeded in wrenching the bars from the window of her cell, and had managed with difficulty to thrust herself through the aperture. The effort had exhausted her strength, and now she was clinging helplessly to the thick ivy which matted the walls. Overjoyed at the sight of her still alive, Dan shouted encouragement, and reflected how he could assist her. There was no time for him to go round by the front door, as the flames were already shooting from some of the windows of the west wing, and at any moment the fire might scorch Meg.

He looked down and saw that an oak grew so close to the house that a good spring would land him in its topmost branches, which were but a little below the level of the window on the sill of which he stood. If he failed he would fall a considerable distance on to a flagged pavement, and run the risk of breaking his neck. In his cooler moments he might have hesitated to tempt such a catastrophe, but the thought of Meg's peril steeled his nerves. Marking a great bough which would bear his weight, he sprang from the window, and fortunately landed among the branches of the tree. His head struck against the bough, and he was almost stunned, but retained sufficient presence of mind to grasp at whatever came within his reach.

After that effort all seemed like a dream. He heard Meg calling him wildly, and, in some way, managed to scramble down the tree, though, when he found himself on the ground, he could not explain how he got there. His head felt giddy, and his clothes were torn to ribbons in the fall. But there was no time to be lost, and he ran along the flagged path to where he saw Meg, high above, clinging to the ivy. The parasite formed a kind of natural ladder, but he dreaded to climb it, lest he should grow giddy and fall. In desperation he looked around for some means whereby to clear his head. A pool of stagnant water was at hand, and, without a moment's hesitation, he dipped his head therein. The shock of the cold water restored him to his normal condition, and the next moment he was scrambling up the ivy. The whole time, from his spring into the oak and his clambering up the side of the house, was not more than five minutes.

He was just in time, for Meg's strength was rapidly giving way, and hardly had he placed his disengaged arm round her waist than she leaned half fainting on his breast with her whole weight. This threw the strain on his right arm, and the ivy was almost torn from his grasp. Fortunately, he had his feet firmly planted in the network roots of the parasite, and so managed to hold firmly. Still, the position was one of great peril, as the least false step would precipitate both himself and his burden into the depths below.

"Meg, Meg!" he whispered vehemently, "clasp your arms round my neck and hang on. I must have both hands free."

Mechanically she did as she was told, as the momentary fainting-fit had passed, and she now comprehended what was to be done. Free to use both hands, Dan gripped the ivy firmly, planted his feet carefully, and, with the girl clinging to his neck, managed with great difficulty to make the descent. They reached the ground in safety.

"Thank God!" said Meg, looking up at the blazing ruin from which she had so miraculously escaped. "My own darling, how brave you are! But Miss Linisfarne?"

"Tim saved her. Let us go round to the terrace and show them that you are alive. How did you get into the west wing, Meg?"

"Miss Linisfarne took me there, under the pretext that she wanted to show me the portrait of Sir Alurde. Oh, Dan, she has cut it to pieces because it resembled you!"

"I know she hates me, Meg. I was fearful lest she should do you harm, and it seems that my presentiment was right."

"She shut me up in the room, Dan, and then set fire to the place. The window was barred, and I thought I was lost. Fortunately the bars were old and rusty, so I was able to wrench them out and free myself. But had you not come, I should have fallen."

"My brave girl! There are not many who would have had such presence of mind, Meg. Miss Linisfarne is a fiend. Can you walk now?"

"Yes; I am much stronger. Let us go at once."

They hastened as quickly as possible round to the terrace, and found Miss Linisfarne in the centre of the crowd. She was terribly burnt, but conscious. The villagers welcomed Dan and Meg with cheers of delight, and Jarner hastened forward. Before he could reach Meg, however, Tim had passed him. With an ejaculation of thankfulness, he seized the astonished girl in his arms and kissed her.

"Tim!" cried Dan, thoroughly enraged; "what right have you to----"

"The right of a father," said Tim, in a deep voice. "I am the husband of yonder wretched woman, who tried to kill her own child."

Both Dan and Meg looked at Jarner for an explanation. They were taken by surprise at Tim's speech, and could say nothing.

"It is true," said Jarner, taking Meg tenderly in his arms. "I did not know it till now. Nor did Miss Linisfarne dream that you were her child, Meg. Had she known, this terrible catastrophe would not have taken place."

"Is she my mother?" faltered Meg; "but my father----"

"I am your father," said Tim, quietly. "Dr. Merle is only your guardian. It is a long story, Meg. I acted for the best, but it has turned out ill."

"Meg, my child!" cried a feeble voice.

"Come," said Dan, leading the girl towards the dying woman; "you must see and forgive your mother."

Miss Linisfarne was dying. Her body was terribly burnt, and she was lying on the terrace wrapped in a blanket. The villagers were all in the house saving the furniture, so only those intimately concerned were present. The shock had driven the insanity out of Miss Linisfarne's brain, and she was now quite rational. As Meg knelt beside her, she put out a feeble hand.

"Forgive!" she said faintly; "I was mad! I knew nothing, my child."

"Oh, mother, mother! why did you not tell me I was your child?"

"She did not know," said Tim, who was holding a cup of wine to the lips of the woman he claimed as his wife. "I did not think her worthy to know the truth, and so she never learned that it was her own daughter she brought up."

"Cruel! cruel!" murmured Miss Linisfarne. "Would nothing less than twenty years of misery satiate your revenge?"

"No," replied her husband, curtly.

"Do not reproach her," said Jarner, in a gentle tone. "Do you not see she is dying? I have sent for Dr. Merle. Here he comes!"

"Merle!" said Tim, with a frown. "No, not Merle, but Mallard."

The feeble little doctor ran up to the group, and fell on his knees beside Miss Linisfarne. She looked at him in amazement.

"Mallard!"

"Oh, Laura, Laura! After all these years!"

"Poor Richard!" murmured Miss Linisfarne. "I treated you badly; but I have been punished. You can forgive me now?"

"I do! I do!--freely."

"And Meg?"

"I forgive you, mother, and I love you," said Meg, kissing her with tears.

As she did so Miss Linisfarne's head fell back. She was dead.