One glance from the window to which she went showed Esther the full extent of the calamity. Long tongues of fire, bending and quivering in the fierce wind, were licking the roof of a low range of outhouses which connected the farm-yard with the hall. Esther remembered that there was a door of communication between these buildings and the house itself. Unless they could be pulled down, and that instantly, the mansion would be in imminent peril. And besides, behind them were the ricks and barns, vomiting a perfect sea of fire, from which large flakes were ever and anon borne by the gale over the hall. One such struck the window where Mrs. Pendarrel stood with her daughter, and made them start back for a moment. And what hope was there of help? By the red glare they could see men clustered about, either gazing on the flames with indifference, or exhibiting exultation in their gestures and movements. Amidst the crackling of the fire and the thunder of the storm, they could hear the savage hurrahs of the incendiaries. Whence, then, could come help? "We are lost, my child!" Esther said quietly. "But I presume they do not intend to burn us as well as the hall. Courage, dear." She threw her arm round Mildred's waist, and led her back to the main stairs. There they found Mr. Pendarrel, and two or three men-servants, armed, but undetermined what to do. "Husband," Esther whispered, "in five minutes all the west wing will be in flames. Nothing can save us, unless the troops arrive in time. Where are the girls? They must all be here." The last words were spoken aloud. "I will call them, mother," Mildred said; and she ran back to the offices. "We have no chance," Esther continued as before, "unless the ruffians should turn----Hush! Hark!" There was a clatter of steps to the door of the hall, succeeded by a loud knocking. "Be ready," said Esther. "Let us not be outraged." "Shall we not escape?" her husband asked. "By the back windows----" "Are the maids all here? Where's Mildred?" "I am here, dear mother," was the breathless reply, "and so are they." "Then let us go," said Esther sadly. "Go through the drawing-rooms. To meet at the chief lodge. And you, my friends, will guard us as best you may. But for the fire, we might do more. All now would be in vain." Bare-headed, the little party went out into the storm. Esther stoutly maintained her own heart, but she had much ado to keep up the courage of her companions. With quick but faltering steps they made their way through the shrubbery, in the direction Mrs. Pendarrel had indicated; looking back with hasty glances, and perceiving that the flames were now flying over the roof of the mansion, the west wing having already become their spoil. A little more delay, and perhaps escape had been impossible. And there were other dangers besides the fire.