There was little chance
that any part of the house could be saved.
While Ellen Whitelaw was looking on at the work of ruin, with a sense of
utter helplessness, hearing the selfish lamentations of Mrs. Tadman and
Sarah Batts like voices in a dream, she was suddenly aroused from this
state of torpor by a loud groan, which sounded from not very far off. It
came from behind her, from the direction of the poplars. She flew to the
spot, and on the ground beneath one of them she found a helpless figure
lying prostrate, with an awful smoke-blackened face--a figure and face
which for some moments she did not recognize as her husband's.
She knew him at last, however, and knelt down beside him. He was groaning
in an agonized manner, and had evidently been fearfully burnt before he
made his escape.
"Stephen!" she cried. "O, thank God you are here! I thought you were shut
up in that burning house. I called with all my might, and the men
searched for you."
"It isn't much to be thankful for," gasped the farmer. "I don't suppose
there's an hour's life in me; I'm scorched from head to foot, and one
arm's helpless. I woke up all of a sudden, and found the room in a blaze.
The flames had burst out of the great beam that goes across the
chimney-piece. The place was all on fire, so that I couldn't reach the
door anyhow; and before I could get out of the window, I was burnt like
this.
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