"You did it on purpose," she said, laughing at her own start.
"No, indeed, I did not."
"And is it quite out now?"
"Yes; when the Backsworth engines and the soldiers came up, it was like the Prussians at Waterloo."
"Oh, then it was done," said Rosamond. "Take care! my grandfather was in the Light Division."
"And my uncle in the Guards," said the curate. But before the Waterloo controversy could be pursued, four or five figures on horseback came round the knoll, and Raymond and Julius sprang off their horses, introducing the three officers who followed their example.
One was Rosamond's old acquaintance, the Colonel, a friend of her father; but she had little attention to spare for them till she had surveyed her husband, who looked nothing worse than exceedingly dusty, and at fault without his spectacles.
Inquiries were made for Frank and Charlie. They were walking home. They had worked gallantly. The flames were extinguished, but the engines must go on playing on them for some time longer. No lives lost, and very few casualties, but the paper-mills were entirely destroyed, and about twenty tenements, so that great distress was to be apprehended.
Such intelligence was being communicated as the party stood together in a group, when there was a light tinkling of bells, and two ladies in a light open carriage, drawn by two spirited ponies, dashed round the knoll; and at the moment something must have gone wrong with them, for there was a start, a pull, a call of "Raymond! Raymond!"
Throwing his bridle to Herbert Bowater, he sprang to the horses' heads.
"Mr. Poynsett! Thank you! I beg your pardon," said the lady, recovering herself; and Rosamond instantly perceived that she must be Lady Tyrrell, for she was young-looking, very handsome, and in slight mourning; and her companion was Miss Vivian. Julius, holding his surviving glass to his eye, likewise stepped forward. "Thank you, it was so stupid," the lady ran on. "Is not there something wrong with the traces? I don't know how they got themselves harnessed, but there was no keeping at home."
"I think all is right," said Raymond, gravely, making the examination over to a servant. "Let me introduce my wife, Lady Tyrrell."
The lady held out her hand. "I hope we shall be excellent neighbours.-My sister.-You remember little Lena," she added to the brothers. "She stole a march on us, I find. I heard of your encounter on Friday. It was too bad of you not to come in and let us send you home; I hope you did not get very wet, Lady Rosamond.- Ah! Mr. Strangeways, I did not know you were there," she proceeded, as the youngest of the officers accosted her; "come over and see us. You're better provided now; but come to luncheon any day. I am sure to be at home at half-past one; and I want so much to hear of your mother and sisters." And with a universal bow and smile she nourished her whip, her ponies jangled their bells, and the ladies vanished.
"Stunning pair that!" was young Strangeways' exclamation.
"Most beautiful!" murmured Cecil, in a low voice, as if she was quite dazzled. "You never said she was like that," she added reproachfully to Julius.
"Our encounter was in the dark," he answered.
"Oh, I did not mean the young one, but Lady Tyrrell. She is just like a gem we saw at Firenze-which was it?"
"Where?" said Raymond, bewildered.
"Firenze-Florence," she said, deigning to translate; and finding her own reply. "Ah, yes, the Medusa!" then, as more than one exclaimed in indignant dismay, she said, "No, not the Gorgon, but the beautiful winged head, with only two serpents on the brow and one coiled round the neck, and the pensive melancholy face."
"I know," said Julius, shortly; while the other gentlemen entered into an argument, some defending the beauty of the younger sister, some of the elder; and it lasted till they entered the park, where all were glad to partake of their well-earned meal, most of the gentlemen having been at work since dawn without sustenance, except a pull at the beer served out to the firemen.
Cecil was not at all shy, and was pleased to take her place as representative lady of the house; but somehow, though every one was civil and attentive to her, she found herself effaced by the more full-blown Rosamond, accustomed to the same world as the guests; and she could not help feeling the same sense of depression as when she had to yield the head of her father's table to her step-mother.
Nor could she have that going to church for the first time in state with her bridegroom she had professed to dread, but had really anticipated with complacency; for though Julius had bidden the bells to be rung for afternoon service, Raymond was obliged to go back to Wil'sbro' to make arrangements for the burnt-out families, and she had to go as lonely as Anne herself.
Lady Tyrrell and her sister were both at Compton Church, and overtook the three sisters-in-law as they were waiting to be joined by the Rector.
"We shall have to take shelter with you," said Lady Tyrrell, "poor burnt-out beings that we are."
"Do you belong to Wil'sbro'?" said Rosamond.
"Yes; St. Nicholas is an immense straggling parish, going four miles along the river. I don't know how we shall ever be able to go back again to poor old Mr. Fuller. You'll never get rid of us from Compton."
"I suppose they will set about rebuilding the church at once," said Cecil. "Of course they will form a committee, and put my husband on it."
"In the chair, no doubt," said Lady Tyrrell, in a tone that sounded to Rosamond sarcastic, but which evidently gratified Cecil. "But we will have a committee of our own, and you will have to preside, and patronize our bazaar. Of course you know all about them."
"Oh yes!" said Cecil, eagerly. "We have one every year for the Infirmary, only my father did not approve of my selling at a stall."
"Ah! quite right then, but you are a married woman now, and that is quite a different thing. The stall of the three brides. What an attraction! I shall come and talk about it when I make my call in full form! Good-bye again."
Cecil's balance was more than restored by this entire recognition to be prime lady-patroness of everything. To add to her satisfaction, when her husband came home to dinner, bringing with him both the curates, she found there was to be a meeting on Tuesday in the Assembly-room, of both sexes, to consider of the relief of the work- people, and that he would be glad to take her to it. Moreover, as it was to be strictly local, Rosamond was not needed there, though Raymond was not equally clear as to the Rector, since he believed that the St. Nicholas parishioners meant to ask the loan of Compton Poynsett Church for one service on a Sunday.
"Then I shall keep out of the way," said Julius. "I do not want to have the request made to me in public."
"You do not mean to refuse?" said Cecil, with a sort of self-identification with her constituents.
"The people are welcome to attend as many of our services as they like; but there is no hour that I could give the church up to Mr. Fuller on a Sunday."
"Nor would the use of St. Nicholas be very edifying for our people," added Mr. Bindon.
His junior clenched it by saying with a laugh, "I should think not! Fancy old Fuller's rusty black gown up in our pulpit!"
"I rejoice to say that is burnt," rejoined Mr. Bindon.
"What bet will you take that a new one will be the first thing subscribed for?" said the deacon, bringing a certain grave look on the faces of both the elder clergy, and a horror-stricken one upon Anne's; while Cecil pronounced her inevitable dictum, that at Dunstone Mr. Venn always preached in a gown, and "we" should never let him think of anything nonsensical.