The best sitting-room at the Lord-Quantock-Arms in Markton was as cosythis evening as a room can be that lacks the minuter furniture on whichcosiness so largely depends. By the fire sat Paula and Somerset, theformer with a shawl round her shoulders to keep off the draught which,despite the curtains, forced its way in on this gusty night through thewindows opening upon the balcony. Paula held a letter in her hand, thecontents of which formed the subject of their conversation. Happy as shewas in her general situation, there was for the nonce a tear in her eye.
'MY EVER DEAR PAULA (ran the letter),--Your last letter has just reachedme, and I have followed your account of your travels and intentions withmore interest than I can tell. You, who know me, need no assurance ofthis. At the present moment, however, I am in the whirl of a change thathas resulted from a resolution taken some time ago, but concealed fromalmost everybody till now. Why? Well, I will own--from cowardice--fearlest I should be reasoned out of my plan. I am going to steal from theworld, Paula, from the social world, for whose gaieties and ambitionsI never had much liking, and whose circles I have not the ability tograce. My home, and resting-place till the great rest comes, is with theProtestant Sisterhood at -----. Whatever shortcomings may be found insuch a community, I believe that I shall be happier there than in anyother place.
'Whatever you may think of my judgment in taking this step, I can assureyou that I have not done it without consideration. My reasons are good,and my determination is unalterable. But, my own very best friend,and more than sister, don't think that I mean to leave my love andfriendship for you behind me. No, Paula, you will ALWAYS be with me,and I believe that if an increase in what I already feel for you bepossible, it will be furthered by the retirement and meditation I shallenjoy in my secluded home. My heart is very full, dear--too full towrite more. God bless you, and your husband. You must come and see methere; I have not so many friends that I can afford to lose you who havebeen so kind. I write this with the fellow-pen to yours, that you gaveme when we went to Budmouth together. Good-bye!--Ever your own sister,CHARLOTTE.'
Paula had first read this through silently, and now in reading it asecond time aloud to Somerset her voice faltered, and she wept outright.'I had been expecting her to live with us always,' she said through hertears, 'and to think she should have decided to do this!'
'It is a pity certainly,' said Somerset gently. 'She was genuine, ifanybody ever was; and simple as she was true.'
'I am the more sorry,' Paula presently resumed, 'because of a littleplan I had been thinking of with regard to her. You know that thepictures and curiosities of the castle are not included in the things Icannot touch, or impeach, or whatever it is. They are our own to dowhat we like with. My father felt in devising the estate that, howeverinteresting to the De Stancys those objects might be, they did notconcern us--were indeed rather in the way, having been come by sostrangely, through Mr. Wilkins, though too valuable to be treatedlightly. Now I was going to suggest that we would not sell them--indeedI could not bear to do such a thing with what had belonged toCharlotte's forefathers--but to hand them over to her as a gift, eitherto keep for herself, or to pass on to her brother, as she should choose.Now I fear there is no hope of it: and yet I shall never like to seethem in the house.'
'It can be done still, I should think. She can accept them for herbrother when he settles, without absolutely taking them into her ownpossession.'
'It would be a kind of generosity which hardly amounts to more thanjustice (although they were purchased) from a recusant usurper to a dearfriend--not that I am a usurper exactly; well, from a representative ofthe new aristocracy of internationality to a representative of the oldaristocracy of exclusiveness.'
'What do you call yourself, Paula, since you are not of your father'screed?'
'I suppose I am what poor Mr. Woodwell said--by the way, we must calland see him--something or other that's in Revelation, neither cold norhot. But of course that's a sub-species--I may be a lukewarm anything.What I really am, as far as I know, is one of that body to whomlukewarmth is not an accident but a provisional necessity, till they seea little more clearly.' She had crossed over to his side, and pullinghis head towards her whispered a name in his ear.
'Why, Mr. Woodwell said you were that too! You carry your beliefs verycomfortably. I shall be glad when enthusiasm is come again.'
'I am going to revise and correct my beliefs one of these days when Ihave thought a little further.' She suddenly breathed a sigh andadded, 'How transitory our best emotions are! In talking of myself I amheartlessly forgetting Charlotte, and becoming happy again. I won't behappy to-night for her sake!'
A few minutes after this their attention was attracted by a noise offootsteps running along the street; then a heavy tramp of horses, andlumbering of wheels. Other feet were heard scampering at intervals, andsoon somebody ascended the staircase and approached their door. The headwaiter appeared.
'Ma'am, Stancy Castle is all afire!' said the waiter breathlessly.
Somerset jumped up, drew aside the curtains, and stepped into thebow-window. Right before him rose a blaze. The window looked upon thestreet and along the turnpike road to the very hill on which the castlestood, the keep being visible in the daytime above the trees. Hererose the light, which appeared little further off than a stone's throwinstead of nearly three miles. Every curl of the smoke and every waveof the flame was distinct, and Somerset fancied he could hear thecrackling.
Paula had risen from her seat and joined him in the window, where sheheard some people in the street saying that the servants were all safe;after which she gave her mind more fully to the material aspects of thecatastrophe.
The whole town was now rushing off to the scene of the conflagration,which, shining straight along the street, showed the burgesses' runningfigures distinctly upon the illumined road. Paula was quite ready to actupon Somerset's suggestion that they too should hasten to the spot, anda fly was got ready in a few minutes. With lapse of time Paula evincedmore anxiety as to the fate of her castle, and when they had driven asnear as it was prudent to do, they dismounted, and went on foot intothe throng of people which was rapidly gathering from the town andsurrounding villages. Among the faces they recognized Mr. Woodwell,Havill the architect, the rector of the parish, the curate, and manyothers known to them by sight. These, as soon as they saw the youngcouple, came forward with words of condolence, imagining them to havebeen burnt out of bed, and vied with each other in offering them alodging. Somerset explained where they were staying and that theyrequired no accommodation, Paula interrupting with 'O my poor horses,what has become of them?'
'The fire is not near the stables,' said Mr. Woodwell. 'It broke outin the body of the building. The horses, however, are driven into thefield.'
'I can assure you, you need not be alarmed, madam,' said Havill. 'Thechief constable is here, and the two town engines, and I am doing all Ican. The castle engine unfortunately is out of repair.'
Somerset and Paula then went on to another point of view near thegymnasium, where they could not be seen by the crowd. Three-quarters ofa mile off, on their left hand, the powerful irradiation fell upon thebrick chapel in which Somerset had first seen the woman who nowstood beside him as his wife. It was the only object visible in thatdirection, the dull hills and trees behind failing to catch the light.She significantly pointed it out to Somerset, who knew her meaning, andthey turned again to the more serious matter.
It had long been apparent that in the face of such a wind all the pigmyappliances that the populace could bring to act upon such a mass ofcombustion would be unavailing. As much as could burn that night wasburnt, while some of that which would not burn crumbled and fell asa formless heap, whence new flames towered up, and inclined to thenorth-east so far as to singe the trees of the park. The thicker wallsof Norman date remained unmoved, partly because of their thickness, andpartly because in them stone vaults took the place of wood floors.
The tower clock kept manfully going till it had struck one, its
facesmiling out from the smoke as if nothing were the matter, after whichhour something fell down inside, and it went no more.
Cunningham Haze, with his body of men, was devoted in his attention, andcame up to say a word to our two spectators from time to time. Towardsfour o'clock the flames diminished, and feeling thoroughly weary,Somerset and Paula remained no longer, returning to Markton as they hadcome.
On their journey they pondered and discussed what course it would bebest to pursue in the circumstances, gradually deciding not to attemptrebuilding the castle unless they were absolutely compelled. True,the main walls were still standing as firmly as ever; but there wasa feeling common to both of them that it would be well to make anopportunity of a misfortune, and leaving the edifice in ruins starttheir married life in a mansion of independent construction hard by theold one, unencumbered with the ghosts of an unfortunate line.
'We will build a new house from the ground, eclectic in style. We willremove the ashes, charred wood, and so on from the ruin, and plant moreivy. The winter rains will soon wash the unsightly smoke from the walls,and Stancy Castle will be beautiful in its decay. You, Paula, will beyourself again, and recover, if you have not already, from the warpgiven to your mind (according to Woodwell) by the mediaevalism of thatplace.'
'And be a perfect representative of "the modern spirit"?' she inquired;'representing neither the senses and understanding, nor the heart andimagination; but what a finished writer calls "the imaginative reason"?'
'Yes; for since it is rather in your line you may as well keep straighton.'
'Very well, I'll keep straight on; and we'll build a new house besidethe ruin, and show the modern spirit for evermore.... But, George, Iwish--' And Paula repressed a sigh.
'Well?'
'I wish my castle wasn't burnt; and I wish you were a De Stancy!'
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