IN order that Aline should not discover her presence, little Joan had been put to sleep the first night in an upper chamber, in a wing of the great castle remote from that occupied by the family. To avoid extra trouble on the day of the birthday, she returned there the second night, although in future she was to have a small ante-room connecting with the girls’ chamber. In the rooms below her were the servants who had been hired for the occasion. She half undressed and, as she sat combing her hair, she looked out at the dark night. Below, she heard the rushing of the burn, and, dimly, under the starry sky she could see the great hills to the north. There was a close feeling in the air, as though there might be thunder or heavy rain. It was a little oppressive but her heart was so full of gladness that she refused to allow it to influence her.

How strangely things had come about. She remembered the horrible prophecy of “Moll o’ the graves” about her going away that seemed to mean death. It was curious how it had been fulfilled and yet not fulfilled. Could the old hag really in some way see into the future, and what did the prophecy mean about her beautiful little mistress,—“she shall follow not long after; marry, I see the fire about her”? They had indeed come near379 to burning her, but she had escaped the flames. “Well, all has turned out for the best so far. Mistress Aline said that the light would overcome the dark. I believe she is stronger than old Moll, after all,” she thought.

She had finished combing her hair, and after kneeling before her little crucifix was soon in bed and asleep.

Aline meanwhile, however, lay awake; the heavy storm-feeling in the air would not allow her to rest. She was excited also from the events of the day. After an hour or two she got up and looked out. The stars had all gone and the thick clouds made the night impenetrably black. Shiona was sound asleep. She crept back again to bed and tossed and tossed, but it was of no avail. Another hour passed. She thought she would get up and feel for the tinder box and light the lamp. Where was it? Could she find it in the dark?

As she lay there wondering, it seemed to get a little lighter. Yes, it was certainly getting lighter, surely it could not be morning yet. She lay for a few minutes, things in the room were rapidly becoming visible, but that was surely not daylight; no, it was not daylight. She jumped up and looked out. “Gramercy, the castle is on fire.” She looked again; it was the wing where Joan slept. She crossed the room and woke Shiona. “Quick,” she said, “the castle is on fire. Wake them all—tell Ian—Joan will be burnt—I must go.”

She dashed down the stairs, as she was, without staying to put anything on, and ran across the court yard. There she met the terrified servants rushing from the building.

“Where is Joan, have you seen her?” she asked.

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“No, Mistress,” they said, “she must still be in her room.”

Aline ran to the foot of the stairs.

“You must not go up,” they screamed, “you must not go up, the stairs will fall.”

It was an unfortunate fact that at some time, when alterations were being made, a wooden stairway had been substituted for the original stone one, which now existed only in a ruinous condition.

But Aline ran on without heeding the warnings and started to climb the stairs. The fire had broken out on the second floor and the flames were raging through to the staircase. Could she get past? She caught up her nightrobe in a tight bundle on her breast to try to keep it from the fire and made a rush. The flames scorched her skin and she burned her bare feet on the blazing boards. But she managed to get past. One sleeve even caught alight, but she was able after she had passed through to crush it out with her other hand.

“Joan, Joan,” she shouted, as she made her way into Joan’s room. Joan was still asleep, partly stupified by the smoke. Aline roused her and they rushed back to the stairs, but in the interval the whole stairway had become a bellowing furnace and the flames roared up it, so that they could not look down.

Joan gave a little pitiful cry. “We are lost, oh, Mistress Aline, we are lost.”

“No, not yet, Joan, keep up a stout heart; let us try if there be not another way.”

They ran through two rooms in the opposite direction to the stair and came to a door. But it was locked. They tried in vain to open it. They beat upon it, but381 it was beyond their strength to break, so they went back to Joan’s room.

“Can you climb, Joan?” asked Aline.

“No.”

“Then I must try and let you down.” She seized the bedclothes as she spoke and knotted them together. Alas, they could not possibly reach. She remembered how Ian had saved Wilfred by the rope under the bed and feverishly threw off the mattrass. The bed had wooden laths!

She looked out of the window and saw that a crowd had gathered below. How far down would the bedclothes extend? She made trial and shouted to the crowd that some one should try and find a tall ladder, while others, in case of failure, should bring a blanket and make a soft pile of hay. The crowd scattered and in a few moments there was a great heap of hay and some ten persons holding a blanket stretched above it. Yet, look as they would, no ladder was to be found except a little short thing that was no use. Possibly the other ladder was in the burning building, possibly it had been mislaid in the festal preparations.

Aline’s lips were parched and her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth; for the moment she nearly succumbed to her fear. So it was Joan’s life or hers? “Why cannot Joan climb?” she thought. Surely she could manage to get down as far as that? She looked at the child; but she was stiff with terror and absolutely helpless.

Somehow Aline felt it was not the same thing as when she had swum the river, then she had a chance of her life; indeed, if she had had no chance there was not382 the slightest use in trying to swim, as it could not have helped Ian. Here there was no chance; could she think of no other way?

The flames roared nearer, she began to find it hard to breathe. “Perhaps there is a way,” she said, “but who can think in a case like this?”

Joan had now become unconscious. Aline thought no more; the sacrifice was made; she tied one end round Joan and put a pillow on the sill to prevent chafing. She dragged the bed to the window and took a turn with the extemporised rope round one of the knobs to prevent it going too fast. She lifted the child and gently lowered her toward the ground. For a moment she hesitated again. “Could she climb down and untie Joan?” No, the whole thing might break.

The drop below Joan was about fifteen feet. “Hold tight,” she shouted, and those below braced themselves together and gripped the blanket firmly and the child fell into it. She was so light that the hay below was not necessary.

The fire had now reached half across the room itself and was breaking through the floor boards in little tongues of flame, when the choking smoke curled upward.

The end had come then; there was no hope. She turned to go and see if by any chance the locked door could be made to yield. It was vain, as indeed she knew, and the flame and smoke in that room was worse than her own. She ran back and looked out of the window. She thought she saw Ian with a white drawn face loo............