The House of Yorke, Chapters XXX-XXXII [pp. 295-319]

The House of Yorke.
"Good heavens!" she cried excitedly, " will he never start?"
As she spoke, a drop of water fell
on her face. She looked up, and
another and another fell.
On the very frontier of the battleground, midway between the woods
that were on fire and those they tried
to save, stood a tall maple, its arms
outstretched, as if inviting the enemy.
Captain Cary was cutting that tree
down, swinging the axe rapidly in
resounding strokes. A few courageous men still lingered near, working
with renewed hope as they felt the
scattering drops, and perceived that
the wind began to lull. But they
gave a cry of alarm, and fled also;
for a fiery crest was suddenly lifted
above the forest, and the enemy was
upon them. No one was left but
Captain Cary, and his work was not
done. If there was a chance of
checking the fire, it was in having
that tree down.
It bent slightly under the heavy
strokes that smote it, and, as it bent,
a long, flickering tongue of flame shot
across the space, and curled around
its topmost tuft of foliage, and devoured it in a twinkling. Twigs,
boughls, branches, all as dry as tinder, kindled instantly, and the whole
tree, wrapped in flame, toppled over,
and fell.
With a cry of terror, Clara Yorke
lifted her face, that she might not
see that man perish; and, looking upward, saw the redness vividly threaded with a blinding white light. Then
there were a rattle and a rumble, and
the rain came down in torrents.
"God be thanked'" said a deep
voice near by.
There stood Captain Cary, panting, blackened, scorched, torn, wviping his face on his sleeve, and looking
to see how much more effectually fire
could be fought by the powers of
heaven than by the powers of earth.
The flames cowered down from the
tree-tops under that tumultuous descent, the brands and cinders died
out, hissing, and streams of water
pursued the fire that fled along the
ground.
"Providence arrived just in time,"
observed one of the men who had
gathered about him.
The sailor looked at him with a
reproving glance. "Providence always does arrive in time," he said
reverently.
Here Mrs. Patten, looking like
one of those witches we see in the
play of Macbeth, not even lacking
the long pole, made her appearance
about as mysteriously as those witches do.
"Gentlemen," she said, "since the
hour of peril has gone past, and you
must be fatigued by your exertions,
I hope that you will take shelter
from the rain in my poor mansion.
You shall be welcome to such humble hospitality as I can offer you."
They were nearly in darkness now,
having only such light as came from
the frequent flashes overhead.
The sailor thanked her politely.
"I shall be glad if you can lend me
a lantern," he said; "for I want to
get through to Mr. Marvin's as soon
as I can. Somebody is there waiting for me."
Mrs. Patten led the way, and the
others followed. In the semi-darkness, a smaller figure, which Captain
Cary had not noticed before, came
close to his side, and slipped a hand
in his arm; and the "somebody"
who should have been waiting for
hll at Mr. Marvin's said quietly,
"You see, I cannot walk very well
without help, for I have lost one of
my slippers."
The sailor's heart had not given
such a jump when the burning
tree fell and just missed him, as it
gave at the sound of that voice.
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