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."