august 16th.

we used to wonder at school sometimes how we should behave if we suddenly found ourselves in a position of great danger. i always said i should scream and hide my face, and faint if i possibly could, but i am thankful to remember that, when it came to the point, i did nothing of the sort. my heart gave one big, sickening throb, and then i felt suddenly quite calm and cold and self-possessed, almost as if i didn’t care. i went back into my room, put on my dressing-gown and slippers, took up a big brass bell which one of the girls had given me, and, shutting the door carefully behind me, ran along the corridor, ringing it as loudly as i could, and knocking at each door as i passed. i didn’t call out “fire!”—it was too terrifying; besides, i knew the others would guess what was wrong as soon as they heard the bell and smelt the smoke, and, in less than two minutes, every door was open, and the occupants of the different rooms first peeped and then rushed out on to the landing in dressing-gowns and shawls, and all sorts of quaint-looking wraps. one light was always left burning all night long, so we could see each other, even when the smoke hid that other horrible lurid light, and it is wonderful how brave we all were on the whole. mother came forward wrapped in her long blue gown, and found a chair for madge talbot, who was the only one who showed signs of breaking down, just as quietly and graciously as if she had been entertaining her in the drawing-room. father and the men consulted rapidly together, and vere put her arm round me, and leant on my shoulder. i could feel her trembling, but she shut her lips tight, and tried hard to smile encouragingly at poor madge, and all the time the smoke grew thicker, and the horrid crackling louder and nearer.

“the drawing-room!” we heard father say. “the servants have been careless in putting out the lights, and something has smouldered and finally caught the curtains—that’s the most probable explanation. if that is the case, i fear the back stairs will be impassable; they are even nearer than these.”

he turned and ran quickly down the passage, followed by captain grantly and mr nash. mr carstairs came and stood by vere’s side, as if he could not bear to leave her unprotected, and she looked up at him and smiled a white little smile, as if she were glad to have him there. a moment later the men came back, and, as father turned and closed the heavy oak door which divided one wing from another, we knew without asking that the other staircase was also cut off.

madge began to sob hysterically, but father stopped her with a wave of his hand, and said sharply, addressing us all—

“the back staircase is impracticable, but if we keep our senses, there is no real danger to fear. i have rung the alarm bell, and the men will soon be round with ropes and ladders. the best thing you can do is to go back to your rooms, dress rapidly, and collect a few valuables which can be lowered from the window. you can have five minutes—no longer. i will ring a bell at the end of that time, and we will all meet in my room, which is the centre position, and therefore the farthest from the fire. now, girls, quick! there is no time to lose!”

we ran. some time—in a long, long time to come—we shall laugh to think what curious costumes we made! it was just the first thing that came to hand. i was decently clothed in two minutes, seized a dressing-bag, put in my pearl necklace, a few odd trinkets, this diary, and the old bible i have had since i was ten years old, and rushed along to mother’s room to see if i could help.

she was putting on a long dark coat, and had a lace scarf tied over her hair. even then, in the middle of the night, she looked dignified and beautiful, and her eyes melted in the tender way they have at great moments as she saw me.

“ready, daughter?” she said smiling, and then came up and took me into her arms. “good girl! brave girl! we must help the others, una. you and i have no time to be afraid.”

“thank you, mother darling!” i said, gratefully, for i had been, oh, terribly afraid, and it was just the best thing she could have said to calm me and give me courage; and, while we clung together, father came hurrying in. he hardly seemed to notice me, babs, his pet daughter!—he looked only at mother, and spoke to her.

“are you warm, carina? are you suitably dressed? you must have no train—nothing to make movement difficult. that’s all right. don’t trust yourself to anyone but me, sweet-heart! i’ll come to you in good time!”

“yes, boy, yes! i’ll come with you,” said mother softly.

they went out of the room arm-in-arm, never once looking at me. it seemed as if at the first touch of danger they had gone back to the old days when they were lovers, and no difference of interest had arisen to draw them apart. it made the tears come to my eyes to see them, and i was glad to be forgotten.

the women servants were all awake by now, and, finding their own staircase in flames, came swarming down the corridor to escape by the main way; when they found this also was impracticable, they began to shriek and moan, and to implore us to save them, and it was hard work to get them into one room and keep them quiet. the men crowded at the window, looking for help, and shouting directions to the coachmen and gardeners when at last they came running towards the house. they flew off, some to get ropes and ladders, some to alarm the neighbourhood, and bring help from the nearest fire office. it was three miles off, and in the country firemen are scattered about in outlying cottages, and there would be all the way to come back. it made one sick to think how long it might be before the engine arrived; and meantime the fire was steadily spreading on the ground floor. when father bent forward to shout to the men, the light on his face was dreadful to see. i had a horrible longing to scream, and i think i should have done it if i hadn’t been so occupied with annie, the kitchen-maid, who was literally almost mad with fright. it seemed to soothe her to hold my arm, poor little soul. respect for “the gentry” had been so instilled into her from her earliest years that i honestly believe she imagined the very flames would hesitate to touch the squire’s “darter!”

it seemed ages before william and james came back—without the ladders! they were kept locked up by father’s special orders, as so many jewel burglaries had taken place in the neighbourhood, the thieves using ladders to get into a bedroom while dinner was going on downstairs. now, in the usual contrary way of things, the man who had the key had ridden away, forgetting all about it in his haste to bring help. father stamped with impatience while the men were reporting their failure and asking further instructions. it was getting more and more difficult to hear, with that horrid roar coming up from below, and mr carstairs said suddenly—

“we can’t waste time like this! these men have lost their heads. grantly, you and i are strongest. we must get down and break in the door. come to the back of the house; there must surely be some way of dropping down on an out-house.”

“the blue room—over the larder. it’s a deep drop, but safe enough for fellows like you. i’ll show you!” cried father promptly, and led the way forward. it was no time to protest or to make polite speeches. something had to be done, and done at once. i watched them go and envied them. it’s hardest of all to be a woman and have to wait. i would rather a hundred times have faced that drop than have sat in that room listening to the noise, seeing vere growing whiter and whiter, and mother’s face grow old and lined. if the worst came to the worst, i would go and sit beside them, but for the present i held annie’s hand and stroked it, and wondered if it could be true that life was really going to end like this. only nineteen, and just home from school—it seemed so young to die! i remembered will, and wondered if he would be sorry, and if he and rachel would talk of me when they were married. then i forgot everything, and lust shut my eyes and prayed, prayed, prayed.

a great shout of relief and joy! father and mr nash were leaning out of the window waving their hands to the other men, who were carrying the ladders across the lawn. we all sobbed with relief, for it seemed as if escape must be easy now, but the ladders were not long enough, they had to be tied together, and by this time the flames were leaping out of the window below; we could see the light dancing up and down, and it seemed a dreadful prospect to have to pass them on an open ladder. i looked at mother—mother who never walked a step outside the grounds, who was waited upon hand and foot, and spent half her time lying on the sofa. it seemed impossible that she could attempt such a feat!

the moment the ladder was fixed father turned round and called to us to come forward, but we all hung back silent and trembling. then he stamped his foot, and his eyes flashed.

“are you going to turn cowards and risk other lives besides your own? there is not a moment to lose. every moment will make it more formidable. mary, you are a brave girl! will you lead the way?”

she walked forward without a word. i did admire her! father lifted her up; a pair of arms were thrust out to receive her from the midst of the clouds of smoke. we all held our breath for what seemed an age, but was only a few minutes, i suppose, and then came another cheer, and we knew she was safe. the servants rushed forward at that, but when they looked down and saw the flames licking the very side of the ladder, they shrieked again and fell back; so madge went next, and then father walked up to mother and took her by the hand. she looked up at him and shook her head.

“not yet, dear, not yet. the girls first!” she said, but he wouldn’t listen to that.

“the girls wouldn’t go before you. you can’t stand this any longer. i am going to carry you down and come back for them. come, sweetheart!”

she rose then without a word, and we saw him lift her in one arm like a baby and let himself down slowly, slowly with the other hand.

oh, the awfulness of that moment when they both disappeared and we were left alone! with father gone it seemed as if there were no one left to keep order or inspire us with any show of courage. i think we all went mad or something like it, and, before we knew what was happening, one of the servants had opened the door and flown shrieking along the passage. another great gust of smoke rushed into the room; we could hardly see each other; we were all rushing about, jostling together, fighting like wild things for air and freedom.

“vere, vere!” i shouted, and she clutched at my arm, and we ran together down the corridor, to the head of the servants’ stairs, back again faster than ever into the blue room where the men had let themselves down to the roof of the larder. there seemed just a chance that we might be able to do the same. it was the only chance i could think of, and vere was clinging to me, begging me to save her, and not let her be burnt.

“i can’t die, babs—i can’t! i’ve never thought of it. i’m frightened! oh, babs, babs, think of something—think of a way—save me! save me!”

“i’ll try, vere, but you must help, you must be quiet! the heat is not so bad here, and if we get on the roof and call, someone may hear us. they will come to look if they find we have gone. oh, we should never have left that room! father trusted us to wait for him, but it is too late now... look, here’s a sheet: we must tear it into strips and make a rope. it will be easier that way.”

but when they tell you in books to make ropes of sheets, they forget that it’s almost impossible to tear strong new sheets, and that one cannot always find scissors in a strange room in the middle of the night. in the end, we could only knot the two together, and tie one end to the rail of the washstand. it was not long enough then, but i scrambled out and let myself down to the end, and then dropped, and by good providence managed to steady myself on the roof beneath. it was not so very sloping as roofs go, and the gutter was deep, and made a kind of little wall round the edge. i called to vere to follow, and promised to catch her, but it took, oh, ages of coaxing and scolding before she would venture, and it was only by a miracle that we didn’t both fall to the ground, for she let go so suddenly and clutched at me in such frantic terror when i stretched up to catch her. we didn’t fall, however, but cowered down together on the roof with our feet fixed firmly against the projecting gutter, and i, for one, felt in a worse position than ever. we were still too far from the ground to jump down without hurting ourselves on the hard paving stones, and no one was in sight, no one heard our calls for help. to make things worse, in getting nearer the ground we had come nearer to the fire itself, for some of the windows on the ground floor had fallen in, and it was just like looking into the heart of a furnace. there is nothing more awful than the speed with which fire travels. one feels so utterly helpless before it. the tiles on which we sat were hot. i don’t know if it was fancy, but every now and then i seemed to feel a movement beneath us as if something might give way. i think now that it really was nervousness, for the roof was left practically unhurt, but at the time anything seemed possible, and i was terrified. we called and called again, but no one came, and it seemed as if hours passed by, and the fire came creeping nearer and nearer. sometimes vere would be frantic with excitement; sometimes she would cover her face with her hands and moan; sometimes she would be on the brink of fainting. i began to see that if something was not done at once she would faint, and then we would probably both fall to the ground together and be killed outright. something had to be done, and i had to do it. i went creepy cold all down my spine, for i knew what it was i had to do, and was in mortal terror of facing it.

somehow or other, if vere were to be saved in time, i must get up from my cramped seat, lower myself over the edge of the roof, hang at full length from the coping and drop on to the flags beneath. the men had done it, but they were men, and it was a big drop even for them, and they haven’t got nerves like girls, or skirts, or slippers with heels. i was frightened out of my wits, but i knew that every moment i thought about it i should be more frightened still, so i just told vere what i was going to do—and did it!

i can’t write about it; it makes me feel queer even now! the awful moment when you get over and swing into space; and the feeling that you must look down, the ache in your hands as you cling on, and the terror of leaving go! mental pain is worse than physical, so it was really a relief to reach the ground, even though one foot did go over, and a pain like a red-hot poker shot up the leg. i thought i had broken the foot to pieces, but it was only the ankle that was sprained, and i could limp along, in a fashion, though so slowly that it took ages to get round to the front of the house. at another time i suppose i should have sat still and howled; but you don’t think of pain when it is a case of life and death, and i knew there was no time to spare.

it could not really have been very long since we left father’s room, but already the scene was quite changed. the alarm bell had roused the neighbourhood, and there was quite a little crowd on the lawn. i saw at a glance how it was that we had not been missed. the servants had rushed upstairs to the third storey, and were grouped together at a window there screaming and calling for help, while the poor men worked hard at lengthening the ladders. at a distance, and through the clouds of smoke, it was impossible to distinguish one figure from another, and everyone had taken for granted that we were there with the rest. nobody noticed me hobbling forward till i got close up to the workers, and saw a well-known grey figure busy with the ropes. i pulled at his arm, and he lifted a white face, then leapt to his feet and seized me by both hands.

“you, una! here! thank god! how is it possible? which way did you come?”

“out of a window—but, oh, don’t talk—you must save vere first! round at the back—now—at once! i’ll show you the way, but i can’t walk, my foot is hurt—”

i felt as if i could not keep up a moment longer, but will picked me up in his arms as if i had been a baby, and said soothingly—

“there! now think quietly for one moment, and tell me what we shall want! where is she - high up? shall i get some of these men to help.”

“she’s on an outhouse roof. i dropped down, but it hurt me, you see, and vere daren’t attempt it. a ladder would do, just one ladder. there’s mr carstairs—he’ll come! i’ll tell him where to go.”

i did tell him, and the poor fellow’s face of mingled rapture and fear was touching to see; then will went on in front, still carrying me in his arms, while the others followed with ladders and sheets and all kinds of things that might be needed. i was moaning to myself all the time, and will put down his head and said tenderly—

“does it hurt so much, poor little girl?”

but it was my heart which hurt; i was so terrified of what we were going to find.

she was still there. i lifted my head as we came round the corner of the house, and i could see her. she was not sitting as when i had left, but half standing, half crouching forward, her hands stretched out, her hair loose over her shoulders. she looked like a mad woman; she was mad, poor vere, and the sight of us in the distance seemed to excite her more than ever. we called to her; we begged her to be calm, to sit still for one moment—just one moment longer. the men ran forward to reassure her, but she didn’t understand—she seemed past understanding. just as help was within reach she threw out her arms with a dreadful cry and jumped, and her foot caught in the coping as she fell. oh, i can’t write about it! i must forget, or i shall go mad myself!...