‘Good patience!’ said the older of the two women, ’it’s the fire again! it’s all round us!  O I wisht I hadn’t a’come!  I wisht I was to hum!’—­and she showed the earnestness of the wish by beginning to cry.  Her companion sat still and turned very pale.  Paler yet, but with every nerve braced, Wych Hazel stood in the road to see for herself.  The gentlemen were consulting.

The fire had closed in upon the road they had passed over an hour or two before.  There it was, smoking, and breathing along, gathering strength every minute; while a low, murmuring roar told of its out-of-sight progress.  What was to be done?  The driver declared, on being pressed, that a branch road, the Lupin road it was called, was to his knowledge but a little distance before them; a quarter of an hour would reach it.

’Drive on, then,’—­said Rollo, turning to put Wych Hazel into the coach.

The man mumbled, that he did not know whether his horses would go through the fire.

’I know.  They will.  We will go straight on.  You are not afraid,’ he said, meeting Hazel’s eyes for a moment.  It was not more than half a second, but nature’s telegraph works well at such instants.  Wych Hazel saw an eye steady and clear, which seemed to brave danger and not know confusion.  He saw a wistful face, with the society mask thrown by, and only the girl’s own childish self remaining.

‘Afraid to go on? no,’ she said; and then felt a scarcely defined smile that warmed his eyes and brow as he answered, ’There is no need’—­and put her into the coach.  In both touch and tone there lay a promise; but she had no time to think of it.  The coach was moving on again; the women were very frightened, and cried and moaned by way of relieving their feelings at the expense of other people’s.  Mrs. Saddler, who has hitherto used only her eyes, now clasped her fingers together and fell to the muttering of short prayers over and over under her breath, the urgency of which redoubled when the coach had gone a little further and the fire and smoke began to wreathe thicker on both sides of the road.

‘There is no occasion, Mrs. Saddler,’ said Mr. Falkirk somewhat sternly.  ’Be quiet, and try to show an example of sense to your neighbours.’

‘Did you never say your prayers before?’ said Rollo turning towards her; they sat on the same seat.  He spoke half kindly, half amused, but with that mingled—­though ever so slightly—­an expression of meaning more pungent; all together overcame Mrs. Saddler.  She burst into a fit of tears, which nervousness made uncontrollable.

‘What have I done?’ said the young man as the weeping became general at his end of the coach.  ’It is dangerous to meddle with edge tools!  Come, cheer up! we shall leave all this smoke behind us in a few minutes.  You’ll see clear directly.’