LITMIR.BIZ

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to call Julius the Rector.  That’s better than Mr. Charnock—what Raymond ought to be.”

      Anne was struck dumb at this fearful display of worldliness; and Cecil betook herself to the piano, but the moment her husband appeared she showed him the list.

      “He has cut out plenty of work,” said Raymond, “but three of them must want a field for their energies.”

      “It is preposterous.  I want you to speak to him about it.”

      “You are not expected to go to them all,” Raymond made answer.

      “Then there’s no sense in having them,” responded Cecil.  “Evening services are very bad for the people, bringing them out late.  You ought to tell him so.”

      “He is Rector, and I am not,” said Raymond.

      “Mr. Venn did nothing without papa’s consent,” exclaimed

      “My dear Cecil, don’t let your loyalty make a Harry the Eighth of your father,” said Raymond; “the clergyman ought to be a free agent.”

      “You don’t approve?”

      “I don’t approve or disapprove.  It is not a matter I know anything about.”

      “But I assure you it has been all thought over at Dunstone.”

      “Come, my mother wants to go to bed, and you are keeping her waiting.”

      Cecil was silenced for the moment, but not daunted; for was it not the foremost duty of the lady of the manor to keep the clergyman in order, more especially when he was her own husband’s younger brother? so she met her brother-in-law with “Julius, when I undertook that notice, I had no notion you were going to have so many services.”

      “Is there more than you have time to paint?  Then Bindon can do it, or Jenny Bowater.”

      “No! it is not time or trouble; but I do not think such a number of services desirable.”

      “Indeed!” said he, looking amused.

      “Yes.  An over number of services frequented by no one only brings the Church into contempt.  I heard papa say so.  We only had regular Sunday and Saint’s Day services, and I am sure Dunstone was quite as religious a place as there is any need to be.”

      “I am glad to hear it,” said Julius, an odd look flickering about his face; “but as I am afraid Compton is not as religious a place as there is need to be, I must try, by your leave, all means of making it so.  Good night.”

      He was gone, and Cecil was not sure that he had not presumed to laugh at her.

      CHAPTER V

      A Sunday of Excitement

      Strangers in court do take her for the queen.

—Shakespeare

      The first Sunday of Julius Charnock’s ministry was spent in an unexpected manner.  In the darkness of the autumn morning there was a knock at the door, and a low hurried call in Anne’s voice at the bedroom door: “Rosamond!  Julius, pray look out!  Isn’t there a great fire somewhere?”

      “Fire!  Here?” cried Rosamond, springing up.

      “No, not here.  A great way off.  You could beat it back.”

      Rosamond had by this time rushed to the window which looked out the wrong way, found her dressing-gown, and scrambled into it in the dark ere joining Anne in the gallery, from the end window of which the lurid light in the sky, with an occasional flame leaping up, was plainly visible.  When Julius joined them he declared it to be at Willansborough, and set off to call up the coachman and despatch the fire-engine, his wife calling after him to send for the soldiers at Backsworth.

      Frank and Charlie came rushing down in gratified excitement, declaring that it was tremendous—the church at least—and exulting in the attainment of their life-long ambition, the riding out on the fire-engine.  Servants bustled about, exclaiming, tramping, or whisking on the stairs; and Raymond presently appeared to ask whether his mother were ill, and, when reassured on that score, hurrying to ascertain whether she were alarmed, before he started for the scene of action.

      “Let me come and stay with her,” said Rosamond, a striking figure, in a scarlet dressing-gown, with a thick plait of black hair hanging down to her waist on either side.

      “Thank you, it will be very kind,” said Raymond, running down before her, and meeting Susan waddling out in a fringe of curl-papers, for some mysterious instinct or echo had conveyed to her and her mistress that there was fire somewhere—perhaps at home.  Mrs. Poynsett was not a nervous woman, and from the time she saw her eldest son come in, all fright was over, and she could have borne to hear that the house over her head was burning, in the perfect trust that he would save her from all peril; nor had he any difficulty in committing her to Rosamond, when he hurried away to finish dressing and repair to the spot.

      Nothing could be seen from her room, but the little ante-room between it and the drawing-room had an excellent view, as the ground fell away from it, and there was an opening among the trees.

      “We must get you there!” exclaimed Rosamond, in her excitement, helping her into some garments, and then running out as she heard a step—“Here, Julius, help me;” and without more ado, the mother was transported between them to the broad low couch under the window, and there bestowed in a nest of pillows, shawls, and rugs, that seemed to grow up under Rosamond’s touch.

      Then following Julius out into the hall as he met his brother, Rosamond clung to him, entreating, “Please, please don’t run into any dangerous places.”

      “Never fear, dearest; I am not likely.”

      “Don’t let him, pray!” she said, turning to Raymond.  “Make him remember how blind he is.”

      “I’ll take good care of him, Rosamond,” said the elder brother kindly; “I’m used to it.”

      “And send for the –th,” she added.  “There is nothing like soldiers at a fire.”

      “The glare must have given notice,” said Julius, “but we’ll send if needful.  Let go, you foolish girl; I’m not leading a forlorn hope.”

      Did Raymond, as he mounted his horse, turning from the contact of the white and black heads, admire the reasonableness of the Cecil who had never shown any fears for his safety, nor any tendency to run about the passages in her robe de chambre, though she was now dressing with all speed?

      The women-folk had to depend on their own eyes for intelligence, for every male, not only of the household but of the village, between the ages of five and seventy, started for Wil’sbro’, and a good many females followed their example, including the cook and her suite.

      However, Susan remained, to find her mistress flown, and in her fright, give Lady Rosamond as round a scolding as if she had been Charlie, for her rashness in attempting a transit, which Dr. Hayter had pronounced to be as much as her mistress’s life was worth.  Having thus relieved her mind, and finding that Mrs. Poynsett was really very comfortable, or else too eager and anxious to find out if she was not, the good woman applied herself to the making of coffee.

      Anne and Cecil had found their way to the leads, and were thence summoned to partake of this hasty meal, after which they proposed going to look from the brow of the hill; and Mrs. Poynsett insisted that Rosamond should not stay behind on her account; and, glad to appease the restlessness of anxiety, out went the ladies, to find the best view of the town,—usually a white object in the distance, but now blurred by smoke thick and black in the daylight, and now and then reddened by bursts of flame.

      Anne had been reassured as to the need of beating out the fire and trampling down a place to isolate it, as in the bush-fires of her experience; and Rosamond related the achievements of the regiment in quenching many a conflagration in inflammable colonial cities.

      It occurred to her that the best place whence to see it was the tower of the church, which, placed upon a little knoll, was standing out in full relief against the lurid

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