I marvelled at her manner greatly as I retraced my steps to the night nursery. She was really grateful to me, I could see that. Probably she realised that my prompt action had saved her and her boy a lifetime of regret. To extinguish life accidentally must be a bitter and sore retrospect to any human mind. Rolf’s boyhood would have been shadowed if his little cousin’s death had laid at his door. I tried to cheer myself with these thoughts as I laid awake through the greater part of that long summer’s night. I could only sleep by snatches, and my dreams were full of pain. I imagined myself a martyr at Smithfield, and that the faggots were lighted about my feet. I could see the flames curling up round me, and feel their scorching breath on my face. Excruciating pain seemed to tingle in my veins; I cried out and woke Joyce, and then the misery of my burns kept me restless. I was quite ill the next day, and could not stir from my bed; but Mrs. Markham and Rolf came to see me more than once, and Reggie played on my bed, and was so dear and good, and Joyce kept creeping up to me to know what she could do for nurse, and every two or three hours Gay’s bright face seemed to bring sunshine into the room. She had always some pleasant thing to tell me: a kind inquiry from Mr. Hawtry, and some flowers and fruit that Mrs. Cornish had arranged; a book from the vicar’s wife, who had been very shocked to hear of the accident, and thought I wanted amusement; a message from Squire Cheriton, with a basket of fine yellow plums that he had picked himself; and, later in the evening, a tin of cream and some new-laid eggs from Wheeler’s Farm, that Molly had brought herself. I begged to see Molly, and she came up at once, looking very respectable in her Sunday gown and straw bonnet crossed with yellow ribbons. She shook hands heartily until I winced with pain, and then begged my pardon for her carelessness. “Thank you so much for your delicious presents, Molly,” I said, gratefully. “Oh, please don’t mention it, Miss Fenton; it is pleasure to me and father to send it, and father’s duty; and there is a chicken fattening that will be all ready for eating on Thursday; and there is a pot or two of cherry jam that I shall take the liberty to send with it. It is just for the children and yourself, as I shall tell Mrs. Murdle.” “Everyone is far too good to me,” I stammered, and the tears came into my eyes, for the old Squire and Gay had been so kind, and there was all those beautiful flowers and fruit from the Red Farm, and now this good creature was overwhelming me with homely delicacies. Molly patted me with her rough hand as though I had been a child, and then kissed me in her hearty way.