I knew it to be Dutton's
house, even without the confirmation given by the frenzied shout which
at the same moment arose on my left hand. It was from Dutton. His
horse had been _staked_, in an effort to clear a high fence, and he
was hurrying desperately along on foot. I tried to make him hear me,
or to reach him, but found I could do neither: his own wild cries and
imprecations drowned my voice, and there were impassable fences
between the high-road and the fields across which he madly hasted.
The flames were swift this time, and defied the efforts of the
servants and husbandmen who had come to the rescue, to stay, much less
to quell them. Eagerly as I rode, Dutton arrived before the blazing
pile at nearly the same moment as myself, and even as he fiercely
struggled with two or three men, who strove by main force to prevent
him from rushing into the flames, only to meet with certain death, the
roof and floors of the building fell in with a sudden crash. He
believed that all was over with the child, and again hurling forth
the wild despairing cry I had twice before heard that evening, he
fell down, as if smitten by lightning, upon the hard frosty road.
It was many days ere the unhappy, sinful man recovered his senses,
many weeks before he was restored to his accustomed health. Very
cautiously had the intelligence been communicated to him, that Annie
had not met the terrible fate, the image of which had incessantly
pursued him through his fevered dreams.
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