Piers and his Sons joined Renny. Piers said, — “They tell me Clapperton’s dead in there. An awful end.”
Renny flung up his arm in tragic salute. “A hero’s end,” he said. “Clapperton went in to save Althea Griffith.”
“But she’s over there. She’s with her sister.”
“He thought she was in the house. His wife told me.”
“God! I wouldn’t have believed he had it in him.”
The women from the bungalows were about Gem, crying, condoling with her. Then someone shouted that the nearest bungalow was on fire, and they left her and ran screaming toward their homes. The roof of the garage too had caught fire. Raikes was pushing the smaller car along the drive to safety. Then, at risk of his life he brought out the Cadillac and had them both safe.
The firemen ran toward the bungalows with a second hose but there was nothing to attach it to. The women’s husbands, the farm workers and stablemen from Jalna fought this new fire with buckets filled with water from taps.
Now the large house was fire swept from end to end. There was no saving it. What furniture had been saved stood forlornly on the trampled lawn. A group of stalwart old pines that grew just beyond the lawn, a young one rising tall in their midst, now claimed the attention of the fire. A single bright spark sped toward the nearest. It alighted on the full plumy needles. There was no delay, no hesitation. That pine was a bouquet of fire. All its needles shone red-hot against the sky. A red spark sped to the next pine.
“The trees,” shouted Piers to the firemen. “Bring that thingamabob! That extinguisher!”
They came, their faces red beneath their red helmets. Another pine was gone. Then another and another. The firemen drenched them with the chemical. Some trees stood, one side turned red from the fire, the other still green. The young pine remained untouched. It shone green in the light of the rising sun.
Renny’s obsession was that he must get Eugene Clapperton’s body out of that furnace. Twice he was prevented by Piers and the firemen from entering the passage. Now he stood waiting with impatience for the unrestrained moment.
Piers’ son Philip stayed close to him, held by the gruesome thought of the body in there. The healthy boy had been here, there, everywhere, exhilarated by the spectacle. But now that the flames were dying down, that the house was a ruin, he remained close to this last excitement, peering into the smoking passage.
“when do you think you dare go in, Uncle Renny?”
“Now — in a minute. Everything is drenched with water. It’s safe enough.”
“They say the roof’s going to cave in.”
“I want to get him out first.”
“Can I come with you?”
“No. Stay where you are.”
He stepped in on the wet charred floor. The bitter air cut his nostrils, his eyeballs. He did not know how far into the house Eugene Clapperton had ventured. Now, after only half-a-dozen paces he stumbled over his body. He drew back in astonishment. There he was, so near to safety, yet overtaken! Renny bent down, took hold of the blackened body, and, walking backward, dragged it into the morning light. He had one look — young Philip had one look. The boy turned green.
“why —” he stammered, “I saw him yesterday.”
Renny took off his jacket and laid it over the blackened, hairless head, the blackened naked shoulders. Piers saw what he had done and hastened to his side, followed by the firemen. There was nothing more for them to do.
“You’ve got him out,” exclaimed Piers. “You shouldn’t have gone in there.”
“It was nothing. He was in the passage, near the door.”
“The smoke overcame him,” said the fire chief. “Too bad. Too bad.”
Renny turned to the men with a dramatic gesture. “Take off your helmets,” he said. “This is the body of a hero. He gave his life trying to save a life.”
Awkwardly the men pulled off their helmets and bent their heads. The ruddy sunrise blazed on the desolate scene, turned the smoke that rose from the roof to gold.
Now Noah Binns, his face sagging in disappointment, came panting toward the group. “Lands sakes,” he mourned, “I wouldn’t’a missed that blaze fer a year of my life! Oh, what a sight! Oh, what a conflaggeration! That big house nothing but a roon. What’s that there on the ground? Him, hey? Him that owned it all! Didn’t I foretell this was to be a roastin’ blazin’ summer? Folks laughed at me. Now they know.” He bent and lifted a corner of the jacket. “Here’s a sight!” He looked without flinching. “Here’s a roon! Here’s what boastful man can come to in an hour! Was anybody else burned?”
They shook their heads.
“Well, well, nobody else, eh? Danged if ever I seen a conceiteder man. He knew it all! and now — danged if he don’t know it all.”
XIX
WHAT CAME AFTER
Alayne opened the door to Renny when, an hour later, he returned to Jalna. She wore a dressing gown and her face was tense with excitement. She put out her hands and then drew back. “what a state you’re in!” she exclaimed. “why, you reek of smoke.”
“Yes … Do the uncles know?”
“They are still sleeping. They haven’t rung for their breakfast.”
“God, how am I to tell them?”
“Is the house — burned down?”
He led the way into the library and closed the door behind them.
“Yes. Just before I left the roof fell in.”
“Oh, Renny … where are the family?”
“Clapperton himself is dead.”
She turned white. He put out his hands to steady her, then withdrew them. “I mustn’t touch you,” he said.
“Eugene Clapperton is dead,” she breathed. “How — what happened?”
“This is the way he died,” answered Renny. “His wife told him that her sister had gone back into the house. It was full of smoke then and the rear part burning. He went in to rescue Althea and — the smoke overcame him. I brought out his body myself.”
“And Althea?”
“Safe and sound. She’d never gone back. So he gave his life for nothing, you might say. But he died a hero.”
“How tragic!”
“I was never so mistaken in anyone, Alayne. You can’t know what’s in people till they are put to the test.”
“Poor man … where is his wife?”
A smile flickered across Renny’s face that was made ugly by a mingling of soot and sweat. He said, — “She and Althea are in the newest bungalow — the one I ripped the shingles off. Lord, was that only yesterday? Alayne — the bungalows caught fire. Three of them are burned. There’s only the one where the Barkers live and the new one left. I begged the girls to come here but I couldn’t persuade them.”
She tried to conceal her relief. “And they are in a place without furniture?”
“Oh, they’ve plenty of furniture. Raikes and Barker are carrying in some of what was saved. Enough to go on with.”
“Is Mrs. Clapperton terribly upset?”
“Alayne, I’ve never felt so sorry for a man. There he lies — dead. And his wife — as soon as she knew her sister was safe — showed no more grief.”
Alayne gave a little smile. “Everyone knows she didn’t love him.”
Renny broke out, — “I hated him — yes, hated! But now — I revere him, as a very brave man — a noble fellow. Alayne — don’t you think we should have his funeral from here?”
“No,” she cried. “I refuse.”
“why?”
“It would be horrible. Everyone knows how we felt about him.”
“All the greater reason.”
“where is his body?”
“At the undertaker’s.”
“Then let the funeral be from the undertaker’s. I cannot and will not endure to have him brought here.”
Renny saw that he must capitulate. “Very well,” he said reluctantly.
They were interrupted by Archer’s throwing open the door. He stood facing them, his white foreh
ead glistening, his expression one of accusation.
“why didn’t anybody call me?” he demanded. “why wasn’t I there?”
“It was no place for a child,” answered Alayne.
“I’m going straight over now.”
“No, Archer.”
He clasped his arms about his middle and bent double in an agony of frustration. “Oh, oh, I can’t bear it,” he moaned. “Oh, I never do anything I want to.”
“I’ll take you with me when I go back,” said Renny.
“when will you go?” asked Alayne. “Is it safe for Archer, even with you?”
“There’s no danger.” he returned, absent-mindedly. “I must go now and break the news to the uncles.”
“I’ve done that,” said Archer.
His parents stared at him in consternation.
“You!” cried Alayne. “Oh, that was very wrong.”
“The shock might have been the end of them,” said Renny. “If I had the time I’d give you a hiding you’d never forget. How did they take it?”
Archer, with a benign air, answered, — “Oh, they took it very well. I think they were glad it was me who told them.”
“I must go straight up to them,” said Renny.
“Can I come?” asked Archer.
Alayne interposed her body between that of her husband and her son. She said to Renny, — “Hadn’t you better have a bath first?”
“Oh, they’ll like to see him this way,” said Archer.
Renny went up the stairs.
As he ascended, a deep thankfulness rose through all his being that Jalna was safe. In the early morning sunshine the old house stood serene, all its rooms knowing him, its timbers, as it were, his bones. His first breath he had drawn under that roof. There he would draw his last. The door of Ernest’s bedroom stood open, disclosing Ernest sitting up in bed and Nicholas in the armchair at his side. Both looked dishevelled, distressed, yet somehow drawn from the acquiescence of very old age by the disastrous news.
Ernest greeted Renny with, — “I’m waiting for a cup of hot tea. I think it will brace me. What a terrible thing this is!”
Renny said, — “It’s a shame you had the news told you by that boy.”
Nicholas gave a grim laugh. “Well, we had to have it and Archer gave us the dose quickly. He just opened my door and said, — ‘Clapperton’s house is on fire. Clapperton’s dead.’”
“He did the very same for me,” added Ernest. “He opened my door and said the same words. Oh, what a shock!”
“Let me get you some brandy.”
“No, thank you. I’ve sent for tea.”
“Uncle Nick?”
“I’ve had some.”
Ernest could not control his voice. It shook painfully as he said, — “You must tell us all about it, Renny. Wragge was quite incoherent when he answered the bell … why, your hands, they’re black …”
“what made them black?” asked Nicholas, in a tone of foreboding, as though he guessed without asking.
Renny looked at his hands, then put them behind his back. He said, — “I remarked of Eugene Clapperton yesterday that I didn’t believe he’d ever known a generous impulse — and that he was a coward. Now I take back those words, with all the power that’s in me. He died a hero’s death. He lost his life in an attempt to save Althea Griffith.”
“Is she dead too?” quavered both the old men.
“No, no, she had not gone into the house, as he thought she had … Did you hear me say that I take back all I’ve said against him?”
“Yes, dear boy,” agreed Ernest. “You are quite right. It was a noble act he did and I too retract all I’ve ever said — or thought — against him.”
Nicholas drew the end of his grey moustache between his teeth and gnawed it. “Never liked him,” he growled. “Can’t think of him as a hero. Shan’t try.”
XX
VARIOUS SCENES
A sharp thunderstorm blew in from the lake that day, and heavy, though brief, rain. It left only a furtive smouldering in the more remote parts of the burned house, beneath the caved-in roof. All the rest was wet charred beams and bricks and broken glass. The scorched trees showed all the redder for being wet. The living trees, and more especially the young pine, in the midst of its dead companions, all the greener. Men had brought tarpaulins and spread them over what furniture had been salvaged, though some of it had been carried to the newest bungalow where the two sisters had taken refuge.
No one had worked so hard as Raikes. From the moment when Gem’s voice had woken him he had laboured, doing the work of two. Smudged, blackened, dripping with sweat, then dripping with rain, he had delved into the ruins rescuing all he could. He had the two cars safe and locked against theft. He had collected basketfuls of blackened cutlery and china and put them away to be cleaned. He had heaved beams aside to get at what was pinned beneath.
“Lands sakes,” said Mrs. Barker, as he sat at the early evening meal with her and her husband, “you sure look tired out. You ought to take a little rest.”
Through a mouthful of fried potatoes Raikes replied, — “There’ll be no rest for me till all the mess is cleared away.” He had made no mention to anyone that he had been discharged.
“It’s lucky for them two girls that they have you,” said Barker. “They’re an awful helpless pair. I wonder what they’ll do.”
“No need for them to worry,” said his wife. “Think of the money they’ve got.”
“Wait till you hear what the will says. Wills can be tricky things.”
“You’ll see he’s left his wife every penny. He was crazy about her, wasn’t he, Tom?”
“Well,” said Raikes, “I wouldn’t say that.”
“How did they get on?”
“Pretty snappy at times.”
“She looks like she’s a temper,” Barker put in.
“She’s a swate girl.”
“And you’re the one that knows it, hey?” laughed Mrs. Barker.
“Come, now,” admonished Raikes, “the man’s not cold yet.”
Mrs. Barker giggled unfeelingly.
“what’s funny?” asked her husband.
“Oh, I was just thinking.”
The men laid down their knives and forks to stare at her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she gasped, now laughing hysterically.
“Out with it,” said Raikes. “We can bear it.”
“Oh, I was just thinking what you said about him not bein’ cold yet! He was pretty hot, wasn’t he?”
The men looked at each other.
“Women ain’t got no heart,” said Barker.
Now she was indignant. “It was us women that did the crying, wasn’t it?”
“You ladies are temperamental,” Raikes said, politely. “That’s what makes you so lovable.”
Barker cleaned his plate with a piece of bread, then put it solemnly into his mouth. “Mr. Clapperton,” he said, “was a hero.”
“He was that,” agreed Raikes, with equal solemnity.
“I’m not a Catholic,” continued Barker, “but I’m not ashamed to say — God rest his soul.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Raikes. “May his soul rest in peace.”
Barker rose. “I’d like,” he said, “for us to drink a glass in his honour.” He went to the cupboard and returned with a half-bottle of whisky.
They filled their tumblers with whisky and water.
“May we all,” said Barker, “live as good and die as noble.”
“I want to join in that,” said Mrs. Barker. She picked up Raikes’ glass and took a sip from it. She threw a provocative glance at the Irishman which he appeared not to notice.
“We’re lucky,” said Barker, “that our bungalow was saved. I thought it would burn for sure. And the new one. It’s lucky it was there for the girls to move into.”
“Now Mrs. Clapperton’ll be on to everything you do,” said his wife.
“I should worry,” he replied. “She’ll be too
busy to notice me. It’s Tom that’ll have to be careful.”
Raikes gave a smile that was both mischievous and sheepish. He emptied his glass.
“I must be getting along,” he said.
“You haven’t had your pie,” she said.
“I couldn’t. I’d such a late lunch.”
He went out and his eyes swept the scene of devastation. The sullen ruin of the house and its outbuildings, the separate remains of the three bungalows, the scorched trees, the trampled vegetable garden, his pride, all stared him in the face, unrecognizable and as though reproachful. The origin of the fire was a mystery, except to Gem and Althea who had their suspicions, but Gem was ready to say, if there were an inquiry, that she herself had smoked a cigarette late that night in the kitchen. She was ready to say anything to protect Raikes.
He now came to the door of the new bungalow and quietly tapped. The Great Dane sent forth a tremendous barking. Raikes could hear him panting against the door. “Now, now, Toby,” he soothed. “Quit that barkin’. It’s me, Toby.” The dog whined in recognition. The door opened and Gem’s weary figure was revealed, her hair unbrushed, her eyes heavy. They met his only for a moment. A shyness rose between them.
“what can I do to help now?” he asked.
“Nothing. We’re getting on all right. We’re resting. They sent a hamper of food from Jalna.”
“I know. After a bit I’ll go out in the car and do a bit of shopping for you. ’Tis lucky I saved the two cars, isn’t it?”
She gave a faint smile. Their eyes met, then they looked away again. After a moment she said, — “Mr. Clapperton’s cousin, the one who married my youngest sister, is coming, and my sister too.”
“And will he — see to the funeral — and all that?”
“Yes … Mr. Clapperton owned a plot in a large cemetery in the city. He’ll be buried there, beside his first wife.”
“I see.” Raikes spoke with great solemnity. Then he added, on the same note, — “Well, ’twas a quick end. He didn’t suffer much.”
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 463