CHAPTER XVII

Loss and Gain

Owing to the strenuous efforts of the Brigade, the fire at the Grange was at last got under control; and though the main staircase was gone, and the west wing a wreck, all the eastern portion of the building was saved.

The new day showed a scene of great desolation--blackened walls, and staring, empty windows; garden and lawn trodden into a waste by trampling feet, and littered with broken glass, pieces of timber, and the remains of charred furniture; the greenhouse smashed to atoms; the sundial knocked over; and both pergola and rosery in ruins. The lecture-hall, one classroom, and the bedrooms that lay over them were untouched--a most fortunate circumstance, as they provided a shelter for the girls, who were all clad in dressing-gowns and bedroom slippers. As soon as they were assured of the safety of that part of the house, the teachers marshalled the school there, access being easily gained through a French window. This wing, a later addition to the Grange, possessed a separate staircase, and had only communicated with the main building by means of a long passage and a door. At present, therefore, it proved a general asylum of refuge. The firemen collected and carried round any articles they could find which would be of use, and, since both larder and pantry had escaped, provisions, cups and saucers, and kettles soon made their appearance.

The classroom was turned into a temporary kitchen, and the servants, with the aid of the gardener, set to work to prepare breakfast. The girls who occupied the bedrooms over the lecture-hall lent various garments to the rest, so that by eight o'clock everybody was at least clothed and fed, though very much upset and agitated by the terrible occurrence.

A telegram was dispatched at the earliest opportunity to Miss Drummond, but it would not be possible for her to arrive until the evening. In the meantime, what was to become of her pupils? They could manage for the day, but it would be impossible to put the whole thirty-nine into three bedrooms. The Rector of the parish came to the rescue by at once assuming the direction of affairs, and making arrangements to send all home by the morning trains, himself advancing the money for their railway tickets. Most of the girls were travelling as far as London, where Miss Forster and the prefects undertook to see each safely started for her destination. In the circumstances, it seemed much the wisest thing to be done; the girls could not recommence lessons that term, and the sooner they were out of the way the better.

And where was Aldred? Speeding by express like the others, to tell her astonishing tale at home? No: in the midst of all the general excitement and confusion, she lay utterly unconscious of her surroundings. She had been carried into the bedroom over the classroom, and the Rector had sent for the nearest medical man, and for a nurse from the infirmary at Chetbourne.

"Can we save her, Doctor?" asked Miss Bardsley, who had applied first aid, and done everything in her power, considering the limited means at her command.

"She is badly scorched, and is suffering from a severe shock to the system," replied the doctor gravely. "Still, with careful nursing I think we may pull her through. You have telegraphed for her people? That is well. Absolute quiet is essential. I am thankful the other girls are leaving this morning."

"It is a blessing her good looks are spared," said the nurse, bending down to admire the pretty, pale face, mercifully unscathed by the fire. "I have not needed even to cut her beautiful hair."

"By some strange chance, or rather Providence, the tongue of flame that shot out so suddenly only caught her below the waist," explained Miss Bardsley. "The fireman had just seized her in his arms, and her head was thrown forward over his shoulder. One second later, she might have been burnt to death."

"How did the fire originate?" asked the doctor.

"Through carelessness in the kitchen, I am afraid; but it is difficult to tell until we can make proper enquiries. We are leaving everything for Miss Drummond to investigate herself."

"And this child? How was it she was left in the burning house?"

"She went to warn Mabel Farrington, a companion, who, without my knowledge, had been sleeping in the hospital, a room on the top story. In the darkness and confusion it was almost impossible to count all the girls. I had not specially missed Mabel. I had already been to her bedroom to rouse her with the others, and had not realized that she was not there. The teacher who had ordered her removal to the hospital fainted when the fire broke out, so of course could offer no information. Only Aldred knew of Mabel's whereabouts, and she, without consulting anybody, must have made her way up the tottering staircase to save her friend. The first knowledge I had of the matter was when I heard the crowd shout, and saw the two girls screaming at the window. We were frantic, but powerless to help. There was no long ladder on the premises, and all we could do was to wait for the arrival of the Brigade. Aldred made a rope of sheets and let Mabel down in safety; but the flames had taken such a hold of the room that there was no time for her to follow."

"Then she has saved a life!" said the doctor. "She'll be a little heroine among you, when she gets well."

"Ah, yes--when she gets well!" replied Miss Bardsley anxiously.

Poor Miss Drummond, called from her mother's sick-room, arrived that evening to find the Grange half-wrecked. Fortunately, she was well insured, and would suffer no pecuniary loss, but apart from that it was quite a sufficient catastrophe. Her school could not reassemble until the house was repaired and redecorated; and many treasures had been destroyed which it would be impossible to replace.

"You must try to look on the bright side of things," said the Rector, who was present to receive her. "The damage might have been much worse. Mr. Southey, your architect, came this morning to make an inspection, and told me he would be able to have all in order for you to re-open in September. And the garden will soon recover itself; you will be astonished how quickly everything will grow up again. As for the little patient, she is much better this evening, and the nurse considers her out of serious danger. When we think of the tragedy that might have occurred, we must feel only too grateful that all your flock escaped with their lives."

"It is indeed a cause for thankfulness," said Miss Drummond. "I cannot tell you what anxiety I have suffered during to-day's journey. The telegram only gave the briefest message, and did not assure me of everyone's safety. I was left to imagine the worst, and the long hours in the train were agony. Fortunately, I left my mother on the high road to recovery, so that is another subject for gratitude. I shall be able to remain here now without feeling that my presence is absolutely necessary in the North. How very good it was of you to pack off the whole school so promptly this morning!"

"It was really an easier task than I anticipated. They all seemed accustomed to travelling. One of the girls, however, utterly declined to depart with the others, and I was obliged to permit her to remain. I thought you could reason with her better than I."

It was Mabel who had refused point-blank to leave the Grange, and who, now that Miss Drummond had returned, begged most earnestly not to be sent away.

"Let me stay near Aldred!" she implored. "I won't be the least trouble. I'll sleep anywhere--on a sofa, or a camp bed, or anything. No, I know I shouldn't be allowed in her room, but I should hear the doctor's report every morning and evening, and know how she was. And perhaps I might be of some help. I could carry trays upstairs, and wait on the nurse. I'd do anything in the world for Aldred! I like to feel I'm in the same house with her, and if I have to go it will simply break my heart. I'll write to Mother to-night, and if she agrees will you say 'Yes'?"

Neither Lady Muriel nor Miss Drummond could resist Mabel's piteous appeal. She was always rather a privileged pupil at the Grange, so for this once she was accorded her own way. The doctor grew accustomed to find her wistful face waiting in the passage at the conclusion of his visits, and liked to see the look of relief spread over it as he gave her a hopeful bulletin in passing. He would not consent to any visits, for he feared Mabel's presence would recall Aldred's memory of the fire, and he particularly wished to keep her from all excitement.

"Her friend is the last person whom it would be advisable to allow in the room," he declared. "She must not even peep round the door without my express permission."

It was hard for Mabel to be thus excluded, but she was sensible enough to understand the reason for her banishment, and did not attempt to transgress the doctor's orders.

So far Aldred, though she had quite regained consciousness, had never made the least reference to that terrible night. She recognized those around her bed--Miss Drummond, Aunt Bertha, who had come over immediately, and remained in close attendance on her; her father, who paid flying visits to see her; the nurse, and the doctor--but she made no enquiries for others, and did not even ask if Mabel were safe. Her burns were after all not very severe, and she seemed to be suffering more from general collapse. As day after day passed, and she still continued in the same state, her case began to puzzle the doctor.

"She ought to be making more improvement," he said. "She is no better now than she was a week ago. Her mental attitude does not satisfy me at all. Please watch her closely, and see if you can ascertain the reason for this set-back."

"I will do so," answered the nurse, who had had great experience with convalescent patients, and knew how often an apparently trifling cause can hinder recovery.

The result of her observation she communicated to Miss Drummond.

"I am certain the poor child has something on her mind," she declared. "It is this that makes her so restless and uneasy. I've several times found her crying, though she evidently didn't want me to notice it. She lies awake for hours during the night, and I'm sure it is not merely the pain of her burns that troubles her. Her eyes follow you round the room with the most pathetic gaze. I believe she's longing to confide in you, if she could only get you to herself, and that it would be the greatest comfort to her."

"Then I will stay alone with her this evening, when her aunt has gone to bed," replied Miss Drummond. "If it is really as you say, that will give her the opportunity she wants."

The nurse always went on duty at nine o'clock, at which hour Miss Laurence retired to her own room. Miss Drummond had so far acted as an extra assistant to both, so she was able, without making her motive too apparent, to say that she was taking the nurse's place for the night. She did not wish to excite Aldred unnecessarily, only to afford her a chance of a private talk if she wished for it. She thought there was a look of gratitude in the dark eyes at this arrangement, but she could not be quite sure; so, having made her patient as comfortable as possible, she shaded the lamp, and left her to go to sleep.

For a long while Aldred lay fairly still, though by occasional restless movements the head mistress knew that she was wideawake. A pitiful little sigh at last brought Miss Drummond to her side.

"Can I do anything for you, dear? Are you in pain?"

"No, thank you--it isn't that."

"Something is worrying you, all the same?"

There was no reply.

"Is it anything you would like to tell me?"

"How did you guess?"

"Never mind how I guessed. Just remember that I'm your friend, and that I'm anxious to give you all the help I can. Don't be afraid! Let me know the trouble, and perhaps between us we can manage to set it straight."

Miss Drummond had the rare quality of absolute tact and sympathy. She said no more, only took her pupil's hot hand, and waited patiently for her to begin.

It was a great effort for Aldred to utter her confession, but when once she had made a start she poured out the whole story of her false career at school from its very commencement, keeping nothing back, and mentioning even the affairs of the Chinese lanterns, Miss Webb's chalked chair, and the feigned illness at Grassingford.

"I couldn't bear to meet Mabel again, after what happened at the fire, and allow her to go on thinking me so much better than I am," she concluded. "I'd like her to know all--yes, every single horrid thing that I've done! She can never love me the same, but I'd rather make a clean breast of it, and lose her friendship, than feel so unutterably mean. Will you tell her, please? I haven't the courage to do it myself."

"To be sorry for our faults is the first step on the right road," said Miss Drummond. "It is a sad story, Aldred, and I don't condone anything, though it is a little comfort that you have at least done the very deed for which you took false credit at the beginning. Whether Mabel's friendship will stand the test or not, I cannot say; your plain and only course is to acknowledge the deception, and leave it for her to decide, and to set to work yourself to redeem the past. Now, I can allow no more talking. Remember, I am deputy nurse, and it is my business to see that you shut your eyes and go to sleep."

Aldred seemed so much calmer and easier next morning that the doctor was surprised at the change.

"If she only continues to improve at this rate, we shall soon have her well," he reported. "Keep her as cheerful as you can, and--yes--if she is asking so particularly for her friend, it will be advisable not to thwart her."

Aldred's one feverish anxiety was to see Mabel, though she did not know whether she more longed for or dreaded the visit. The nurse, to whom Miss Drummond briefly confided an outline of the circumstances, decided, though she feared the effect of so much excitement, that it was better to get the meeting over than to allow her patient to remain in a state of such great suspense.

"I want Mabel with me alone," said Aldred, and she pleaded so hard that even Aunt Bertha was judicious enough to consent.

Propped up on pillows, Aldred gazed with nervous eyes as her friend entered the room. Mabel had evidently been crying bitterly, and had not entirely regained her self-control as she came and stood beside the bed.

"Miss Drummond has told you?" queried Aldred eagerly.

"Yes, she has told me everything. I can't deny that it has been a most terrible shock. I had believed in you and trusted you so utterly. I thought you hadn't a single fault. But oh, Aldred! Miss Drummond has been talking to me; she says we were both wrong, and that I was partly to blame for expecting too much. She told me I had set up an idol, and it was right that it should be broken down; that no human being is faultless, and that we must look for our example to the one perfect Pattern, Who can never disappoint us. Shall we start quite afresh now, with Him for our ideal, and try to help each other?"

Aldred's face was buried in the pillow; she was sobbing too much to reply.

"I haven't thanked you yet for saving me," continued Mabel. "It was a braver thing by far even than what I supposed you had done, because you risked so much more."

"I'd have given my life for you gladly!" gulped Aldred.

"I know, and I feel almost unworthy of such love."

"Will you kiss me, to show you can forget what's past?"

Mabel bent her head. It was a kiss of complete reconciliation and forgiveness, and Aldred, with a glad leap of her heart, felt that the friendship that she had striven to build upon the shifting sand of a false reputation was founded at last upon the rock of self-sacrifice and mutual endeavour.

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

_By Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow_

Transcriber's Note:

Punctuation has been standardised.

The spelling of d'oyleys, caste and wideawake, and the alternative spelling for sundial/sun-dial have been retained as they appear in the original publication.

The oe ligature in Phoebe, manoeuvring and pharmacopoeia has been replaced with oe.

Changes have been made as follows:

Page 25 forming herself on the-prim pattern _changed to_ forming herself on the prim pattern

Page 39 The newpapers wanted to print her _changed to_ The newspapers wanted to print her

Page 49 "I" appears to have been missed in the printing process so helped her, too. remember exactly has been _changed to_ helped her, too. I remember exactly

Page 132 but we musn't light them _changed to_ but we mustn't light them

End of Project Gutenberg's A Fourth Form Friendship, by Angela Brazil