"It must be near," said Martha.
"Or it is so big that we can hear it from some way off. The wind would carry the sound."
"I'd be looking out for my property if I was anywhere near there," said Martha.
We did not go back to bed. Sleep would be impossible. We had to all wait until the morning, but we were also eager to hear more news of the fire.
It was very disturbing when we did hear. It was true that it had started in Pudding Lane, but by morning it had traveled far. The streets near the Thames were caught in the fire, which had spread right down to London Bridge.
The Great Fire of London had started.
No one who lived through those four days could ever forget them. It was something which had never been experienced before, and I trust will never happen again.
London was a blazing inferno. There was a reddish glow in the sky, the sound of crackling wood and falling masonry was constant and the air was full of the acrid smell of burning thatch and timber.
This was no ordinary fire.
There was pandemonium in the streets. People stood in knots, fearful and bemused. They watched the fire's voracious appetite as in a very short space of time it consumed one building and, with the help of the wind, leaped to devour the next. Everywhere houses were burning, homes were destroyed. The ancient Cathedral of St. Paul's lay in ruins and other churches throughout the city were burning.
The river was full of small craft into which the more fortunate had been able to load some of their possessions. They stood among them, staring bewildered from the safety of the river at the flames as they destroyed their homes.
The fire was triumphant. There seemed no way of halting its progress as it leaped from street to street. The narrow byways, the wooden houses had made its task the easier. There was much to give fuel to the flames when the fire reached the City's warehouses, in which were stored all kinds of goods, among them pitch, tar and oil, and as the victorious blaze went its way, the hearts of the people were clearly sinking in despair and despondency.
No one had ever seen such a fire before. Something must be done.
At last, when more than half of the city had been destroyed, the idea was put forward that there was only one way to call a halt to it. Gaps must be made in the buildings, so that the fire could not spread so easily. This entailed blowing up buildings and so halting the progress of the flames. People gathered in small groups to watch this.
It was indeed a sight not to be missed. The King and his brother, the Duke of York, cast aside their royalty and joined the workers in the streets. It was necessary, when buildings had been blown up, to clear away the rubble so that when the fire reached a certain spot there was nothing combustible for it to burn, and so was halted in its progress. Fires were isolated in this way and could be more easily dealt with.
It was strange to see our elegant King and his brother wigless, sleeves rolled up, sweating and working with the rest.
It was a new image of him, but he was more lovable in such a role than he was in that of the elegant, witty King sauntering through the parks.
And the strategy worked. The fire, though still raging in some parts of the city, was subsiding. It had inflicted a terrible disaster on our city, for, in addition to St. Paul's, which had always been regarded as one of the landmarks of the city, it had destroyed eighty-nine churches and thirteen thousand dwellings.
When there could be no doubt that the fire was really under control, people thronged into the streets to watch the flickering flames as they died away. Everyone seemed eager to relate his or her adventures, mostly dire misfortunes. How had it started? What could it mean? Had the Papists started it? There were always those ready to attribute every disaster to the Papists. Of course, there were others to declare it was another example of the vengeance of the Lord on the wicked city. Had He not already shown His anger with the visitation of the plague? All this was talked of.
I was standing in the Piazza at Covent Garden watching the distant dying fire, which I was able to see easily because of the missing houses in between, when I became aware of someone standing close to me.
A voice said: "What a disaster! Has there ever been such a one?"
I swung round sharply. Lord Rosslyn was standing very close and he was smiling at me.
I felt dizzy with emotions I could not describe. I suppose the chief of them was delight because he was here again.
"Sarah!" he said, with a wonderful tenderness which filled me with great happiness. "Oh, Sarah, I could not five without you."
I was silent from sheer joy. He was back, and it seemed in that moment that nothing else mattered.
"I have come back to ask you to marry me."
It could not really be happening. It was something I had longed for in my wildest dreams. It was all too fantastic to be real. The fire, which seemed like a foretaste of Hell, and now here was ... Heaven itself.
"I want you to forgive me," he was saying. "What I did ... was quite unforgivable. But it has taught me what I should have known before. You see, I am no longer young ... I did not think to marry. But why should I not? And who but Sarah, whom I love so deeply that my life is empty and devoid of all happiness without her? You do not answer?"
"I am wondering," I said, "if I am dreaming."
He had taken my arm. His face was close to mine.
"We must go somewhere where we can talk."
I said on impulse: "You could come to Maggie's house."
"Maggie is still away?" he said with some concern.
"Oh yes. She is in Dorsetshire with her sister. There are only Martha and Rose at the house. We could talk in the parlor undisturbed."
He took my arm and we walked back to the house. I was still refusing to let myself believe I was not dreaming, for if I should awake I felt I should not be able to bear the disappointment that this was only a dream.
Martha appeared.
I said: "Martha, I have a friend with me. I have something to discuss with him. Would you bring some refreshments to the parlor?"
It all sounded natural enough.
Martha eyed Jack with approval and she went to get some of her homemade wine, on which she set great store.
As soon as we were alone, he took me in his arms and held me very tightly.
I withdrew myself. "Martha will be coming back," I said.
"Yes, and there ii much to arrange."
We sat down. He was looking at me with great tenderness and the love was shining in his eyes. I was very happy.
"I have arranged for the ceremony to take place next Saturday."
"How could it be so soon? Is it really possible?"
"I will make it possible," he said. "Let me explain. I have a friend. In his house in Knightsbridge he has his chapel. He has a resident priest, who will marry us next Saturday."
"I thought that there had to be more time for arrangements."
"I will have no delay. I know ways of fixing these matters. Leave it to me."
"Who is this friend?"
"Charles Torrens. He has done this for others of our friends."
"Shall I meet him?"
"In due course. But for the time being I am only concerned with one thing. I want you to be my wife."
"You have changed so suddenly," I said. "It all seems rather like a dream to me."
"Understand me. I will be frank. I had no intention of marrying. Why should I ... after so many years? I have cherished my freedom. But now, since I met you, I have discovered something about myself, dearest Sarah; I am in love."
"Oh, Jack. Are you sure?"
"I was never more sure of anything in my life. I love you. I want to marry you. Everything has changed. I was foolish. Will you ever forgive me for what I tried to do? I thought I was so worldly ... I thought I knew how to live and keep myself free to live my own life. And then, suddenly, I knew. There was no happiness that way. Forgive me, my darling, forget what I tried to do. Now I see everything in its true light. I just hope that you will forgive me, for I find it hard to forgive myself. All I ask you to do is to be ready next Saturday. I shall come here for you and we will go to the priest. Will you do that?"