Allans Wife | Page 5

that my hair
stood up on my head then as it does now, for I still have a sketch of
myself that my mother made of me, in which this peculiarity is strongly
marked. On this occasion of the Christmas-tree I remember that Mrs.
Carson turned to a tall, foreign- looking gentleman who stood beside
her, and, tapping him affectionately on the shoulder with her gold
eye-glasses, said--
"Look, cousin--look at that droll little boy with the big brown eyes; his
hair is like a--what you call him?--scrubbing-brush. Oh, what a droll
little boy!"

The tall gentleman pulled at his moustache, and, taking Mrs. Carson's
hand in his, began to smooth my hair down with it till I heard her
whisper--
"Leave go my hand, cousin. Thomas is looking like--like the
thunderstorm."
Thomas was the name of Mr. Carson, her husband.
After that I hid myself as well as I could behind a chair, for I was shy,
and watched little Stella Carson, who was the squire's only child,
giving the children presents off the tree. She was dressed as Father
Christmas, with some soft white stuff round her lovely little face, and
she had large dark eyes, which I thought more beautiful than anything I
had ever seen. At last it came to my turn to receive a present--oddly
enough, considered in the light of future events, it was a large monkey.
Stella reached it down from one of the lower boughs of the tree and
handed it to me, saying--
"Dat is my Christmas present to you, little Allan Quatermain."
As she did so her sleeve, which was covered with cotton wool,
spangled over with something that shone, touched one of the tapers and
caught fire--how I do not know--and the flame ran up her arm towards
her throat. She stood quite still. I suppose that she was paralysed with
fear; and the ladies who were near screamed very loud, but did nothing.
Then some impulse seized me--perhaps instinct would be a better word
to use, considering my age. I threw myself upon the child, and, beating
at the fire with my hands, mercifully succeeded in extinguishing it
before it really got hold. My wrists were so badly scorched that they
had to be wrapped up in wool for a long time afterwards, but with the
exception of a single burn upon her throat, little Stella Carson was not
much hurt.
This is all that I remember about the Christmas-tree at the Hall. What
happened afterwards is lost to me, but to this day in my sleep I
sometimes see little Stella's sweet face and the stare of terror in her
dark eyes as the fire ran up her arm. This, however, is not wonderful,

for I had, humanly speaking, saved the life of her who was destined to
be my wife.
The next event which I can recall clearly is that my mother and three
brothers all fell ill of fever, owing, as I afterwards learned, to the
poisoning of our well by some evil-minded person, who threw a dead
sheep into it.
It must have been while they were ill that Squire Carson came one day
to the vicarage. The weather was still cold, for there was a fire in the
study, and I sat before the fire writing letters on a piece of paper with a
pencil, while my father walked up and down the room talking to
himself. Afterwards I knew that he was praying for the lives of his wife
and children. Presently a servant came to the door and said that some
one wanted to see him.
"It is the squire, sir," said the maid, "and he says he particularly wishes
to see you."
"Very well," answered my father, wearily, and presently Squire Carson
came in. His face was white and haggard, and his eyes shone so fiercely
that I was afraid of him.
"Forgive me for intruding on you at such a time, Quatermain," he said,
in a hoarse voice, "but to-morrow I leave this place for ever, and I wish
to speak to you before I go--indeed, I must speak to you."
"Shall I send Allan away?" said my father, pointing to me.
"No; let him bide. He will not understand." Nor, indeed, did I at the
time, but I remembered every word, and in after years their meaning
grew on me.
"First tell me," he went on, "how are they?" and he pointed upwards
with his thumb.
"My wife and two of the boys are beyond hope," my father answered,
with a groan. "I do not know how it will go with the third. The Lord's

will be done!"
"The Lord's will be done," the squire echoed, solemnly. "And now,
Quatermain, listen--my wife's gone."
"Gone!" my father answered. "Who with?"
"With that