Then glanced uneasily round to see how it went with the other party concerned.

Eugene Trevor had approached the window, and having, with impetuous hand, drawn aside the curtain, threw open the shutter, and looked out, as if to ascertain the aspect of the night.

"By Jove, dark as pitch," he murmured moodily; then looking back, cried with a kind of reckless laugh, "Olivia you must keep me here to-night, I think, if you have the least regard for my neck."

Mrs. de Burgh glanced towards the window.

"Is it so very dark?" she asked, evasively.

"Dark--not a star to be seen--but--what in the name of fortune, is that strange sudden light yonder?"

Mrs. de Burgh again glanced towards the window, but from the position of her seat could not gain sight of anything but the thick impenetrable darkness. Mary, however, standing with the candle she had taken up in her trembling hand, mechanically turned her eyes in the direction indicated. They were, indeed, immediately attracted by a red glare, which, rendered more conspicuous by the surrounding blackness, illuminated the distant sky opposite, just across the twelve miles of flat country separating Silverton from that wooded rise, which had so often rivetted her interested gaze, as marking the neighbouring site of Montrevor.

But it must have been a meteorical appearance which had produced the transitory effect, for even as she gazed it seemed to have faded from her sight--or rather, she observed it no more--saw nothing but the dark eye of Eugene Trevor flashing upon her with a lurid glaze, which in the troubled confusion of her ideas seemed in some way confounded with this late aspect of the sky.

"Sullenly fierce, a mixture dire, Like thunder clouds, half gloom, half fire."

She turned away, lighting her candle with unsteady hand.

"Good night, Olivia," she said gravely.

Mrs. de Burgh held out her hand.

"Good night, Mary. I hope you will sleep well, and be better to-morrow."

By a faint, cold smile, Mary alone acknowledged the kindness of the desire. She was turning silently away, but something seemed to come over her spirit--a chill--a pang--a sinking at the heart--such as those must feel who, be the circ.u.mstances what they may, have torn thus away the last link of that broken chain which once, alas! so fondly bound them.

She paused, her softened glance directed towards Eugene. There was no relenting, no wavering in the glance, nothing but a mournful interest, sorrowful regret, offered up as it were, as a final tribute to the past.

But it seemed not that Trevor was in a condition of mind to enter into the spirit of this silent adieu. Throwing himself back upon a chair, without appearing to notice it, and addressing himself to Mrs. de Burgh, he exclaimed in a tone of almost insolent defiance:

"Olivia, I must trouble you to order me a bed also. I shall not turn out this dark night for any one."

It was not so much the words, but the tone in which they were spoken, which seemed to complete the work of disenchantment. The softness pa.s.sed from Mary's eyes, and her parting look, though still sorrowful, was grave and firm, whilst in a voice, low, but full of dignified reserve, she uttered the words "Good bye."

Simple as was their emphasis, they were not to be mistaken. They seemed to say "Good bye, Eugene, for whether you stay to-night, or go, you and I meet not again." And then she slowly left the room.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Suddenly rose from the South a light, as in autumn the blood red Moon climbs the crystal walls of Heaven, and o'er the horizon, t.i.tan-like, stretches its hundred hands upon mountains and meadow, Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge shadows together.

LONGFELLOW.

Why flames the far summit? why shoot to the blast, Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast?

'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of Heaven.

Oh crested Lochrel! the peerless in might,

Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn; Return to thy dwelling, all lonely, return, For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood.

CAMPBELL.

It was with a numbed and dreary sense of bruised and outraged feeling that Mary--the last fibre of mistaken partiality torn from her heart--the last atom of her false idol crumbled into dust, lay down upon her bed that night.

She had lain there perhaps an hour, when the loud ringing of the hall-door aroused her from the state of dreamy stupor which was stealing over her.

Her first supposition was that her cousin Louis had returned. Then the hasty-ascending footstep of the servant, the quick knocking at the door of Mrs. de Burgh's dressing-room, from which the chamber appointed for Mary was not far removed; the hasty communication then given, the loud and agitated voice of Eugene in reply, his impetuous rush down stairs and from the house--as the banging of the hall-door made her aware--led her rather to conclude that some intelligence of peculiar importance, perhaps relating to the illness of old Mr. Trevor, had been received from Montrevor.

The next moment Mrs. de Burgh's bell rang violently, and very soon after her maid entered Mary's apartment, begging Miss Seaham to go immediately to Mrs. de Burgh.

Montrevor was on fire! Mr. Eugene Trevor had been sent for. Mrs. de Burgh was greatly agitated.

Pale and horror-stricken, Mary hastened to obey the summons. She found her cousin with her sofa pushed towards the window, gazing in strong excitement on the red glare, now again plainly visible in the distance, and so fearfully accounted for.

"Gracious heavens, Mary, is not this terrible! the poor old place.

Eugene has gone off distracted, not knowing whether he will find the whole house consumed; as for the wretched old man, G.o.d only knows what has become of him! it did not seem that the messenger brought any sure tidings of his safety. How dreadful if he were to perish in the flames!"

"Dreadful, indeed!" murmured Mary; but she was no match for her cousin's volubility. She sank down shivering by her side, her eyes fixed in appalled bewilderment on the awful sign written in the heavens--sign, as it were, of the judgment and fiery indignation which is to devour the adversary.

They sat there long intent upon the anxious watch, though little was to be gleaned from that flickering and unconstant glare, now deepening, now dying into comparative darkness, but that the fire was still in existence.

Mrs. de Burgh had ordered some of her servants to follow Eugene, and render any a.s.sistance in their power; one was to return immediately with intelligence. In the meantime she entreated Mary not to leave her, a pet.i.tion which poor Mary, in her present state of mind, was not inclined to resist.

Coffee was brought up to revive their strength and spirits, during the two hours which at least must elapse before the messenger could arrive, and wrapping Mary in a warm shawl, the weary interval of suspense pa.s.sed away as quickly as could be expected. It was over at last. The servant returned. Mrs. de Burgh had him up to the dressing-room to hear the account from his own lips.

In a few words the man related, that one entire wing of the house had been past recovery when the party arrived from Silverton, or before any effectual a.s.sistance could be procured. It was the wing containing the private library of Mr. Trevor; there it was supposed the fire had broken out and made some way before discovered by the household.

The catastrophe was supposed to have originated in some way from Mr.

Trevor, as he was missing in his own apartment; and it was feared that he had perished in the flames, as he had been known to have some nights before crept stealthily from his bed-room to the study. It did not appear that any of the servants had been sufficiently courageous to attempt his rescue, and of course now all hope of saving the unfortunate old man was at an end, the flames having communicated with the adjoining pa.s.sages before the alarm was given, though even then Mr. Eugene Trevor had seemed almost inclined to pierce the flames in that direction, so great was his horror at the intelligence.

Mrs. de Burgh at this awful communication fell into a fit of hysterical weeping, whilst Mary, pale as death, speechless, tearless with emotion, sat with her eyes raised and her hands clasped together. "Thoughts too deep for tears" stirred up within her breast--thoughts of death, judgment, and eternity.

How terrible indeed the retribution which had fallen upon the head of that sinful old man. How mighty and terrible the hand which might be said to have taken up the cause of the oppressed, and stopped the way of the unG.o.dly!

Fearfully vivid was the light which guided Eugene Trevor on his course, as like a demon of the night he dashed through the darkness--his neighing, foaming steed bearing him far onward before the party following him from Silverton.

The conflagration lighted the country many miles around, and fierce was the effort the distracted rider had to make to force the frightened animal to proceed.

When entering the grounds, the flames shone through the leafless trees full upon his path, his dilated nostrils inhaled at every breath air heated like a furnace; and bleeding, panting, trembling in every limb, stopped short before the blazing pile.