During this illumination none of the family appeared in front, as their forms must have obscured a portion of the lights.  It lasted some ten or fifteen minutes, and then suddenly went out, and everything was again dark as midnight.  Suddenly from the center of the lawn streamed up a rocket, lighting up with a lurid fire all the scene—­the mansion-house with the family and their more honored guests now seated upon the upper piazza, the crowds of men, women, and children, white, black, and mixed, that stood with upturned faces in the lawn, the distant knoll on which were grouped the sisters and their protector, the more distant forests and the tops of remote hills, which all glowed by night in this red glare.  This seeming conflagration lasted a minute, and then all was darkness again.  This rocket was but the signal for the commencement of the fireworks on the lawn.  Another and another, each more brilliant than the last, succeeded.  There were stars, wheels, serpents, griffins, dragons, all flashing forth from the darkness in living fire, filling the rustic spectators with admiration, wonder, and terror, and then as suddenly disappearing as if swallowed up in the night from which they had sprung.  One instant the whole scene was lighted up as by a general conflagration, the next it was hidden in darkness deep as midnight.  The sisters, no more than their fellow-rustics, had never witnessed the marvel of fireworks, so now they gazed from their distant standpoint on the knoll with interest bordering upon consternation.

“Don’t you think they’re dangerous, Reuben?” inquired Hannah.

“No, dear; else such a larned gentleman as Mr. Brudenell, and such a prudent lady as the old madam, would never allow them,” answered Gray.

Nora did not speak; she was absorbed not only by the fireworks themselves, but by the group on the balcony that each illumination revealed; or, to be exact, by one face in that group—­the face of Herman Brudenell.

At length the exhibition closed with one grand tableau in many colored fire, displaying the family group of Brudenell, surmounted by their crest, arms, and supporters, all encircled by wreaths of flowers.  This splendid transparency illumined the whole scene with dazzling light.  It was welcomed by deafening huzzas from the crowd.  When the noise had somewhat subsided, Reuben Gray, gazing with the sisters from their knoll upon all this glory, touched Nora upon the shoulder and said: 

“Look!”

“I am looking,” she said.

“What do you see?”

“The fireworks, of course.”

“And what beyond them?”

“The great house—­Brudenell Hall.”

“And there?”

“The party on the upper piazza.”

“With Mr. Brudenell in the midst?”

“Yes.”

“Now, then, observe!  You see him, but it is across the glare of the fireworks!  There is fire between you and him, girl—­a gulf of fire!  See that you do not dream either he or you can pass it!  For either to do so would be to sink one, and that is yourself, in burning fire—­in consuming shame!  Oh, Nora, beware!”