The Robber, A Tale.James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Robber, A Tale.
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
England -- Social life and customs -- 17th century -- Fiction
There was an awful sight before him. The rich carved oak wainscotting
was all in flames. The invaluable pictures which covered the walls
shrivelling and crackling with the fire. The armour and weapons, either
of the chase or war, which had been piled up in the form of trophies
between the panels, fallen from brackets that supported them, cumbered
the floor in many places. The ceiling from above was dropping down with
the heat, and in two places the flame might be seen forcing its way
through the flooring from below, and curling up the wooden pillars
which supported the roof. It was evident that the whole of the
corridors underneath were on fire; and as Henry, bearing his heavy
burden, strode on along the gallery, he knew not but that each step
might precipitate both himself and his father into the gulf of death.
His heart, however, was proud of its doing, and fearless; and if there
was one feeling in his breast which was painful, it arose there only
when the thought of Alice Herbert crossed his mind--when deep love and
the memory of her affection came tender and unnerving upon him. For a
single instant all the painful particulars of her situation, if he were
lost to her, flashed across his mind, but he banished them in a moment,
and summoned high resolution to his aid, knowing that he was acting as
she would have him act--knowing that she would be proud and satisfied
if she could see him at that moment.
Onward he went, rapidly but carefully. Twice he felt the flooring
giving way beneath him, and twice by a longer stride he reached a spot
where the beams were firm and unconsumed. The vast size of the gallery
enabled him to breathe with greater freedom, but still he could not see
clearly to the top of the great staircase, not only on account of the
smoke, but on account of a shower of sparks which came down from a spot
where the ceiling had fallen in.
The dust and mortar, even when he reached that place, prevented him
from discovering what was the state of the flooring below; only two
steps, however, lay between him and the head of the great staircase. If
he reached it, he knew that he was safe, for it was of stone, and he
strode on. The flooring gave way, however, at the first step, but he
perceived it yielding before it was too late, and with a violent
exertion sprang across the chasm. The effort was so great as nearly to
have cast him headlong down the steps, but he caught the iron
balustrade, and with a beating heart felt that he and his father both
were saved.
"Thank God!" he exclaimed.
"Thank God!" rejoined the Earl; "I can walk now! I can walk well!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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