Mr. Rosevelt and Star were among those left, and the old man pleaded for a place for the young girl, calling them inhuman brutes to seek their own safety and leave a delicate girl to perish. “The boats will hold no more!” the frantic creatures cried. “Every one must look out for himself in such a time as this.” “Wretches! have you no feeling? Are there no fathers and mothers among you? Will you see this child go down before your very eyes? You _must_ take her!” he cried, wildly, authoritatively. A feeling of shame seemed to come over them; there followed a moment of consultation, a counting of those in the different boats, then a reluctant consent was gained to take her into one of them. “Be quick!” they cried, as a rush of flame in the center of the steamer warned them that a new and terrible danger threatened; and Mr. Rosevelt led her toward the rope ladder swinging from the vessel’s side. Star was very pale, but her great blue eyes had a strange, determined gleam in them. “Are you afraid to go down the ladder?” Mr. Rosevelt asked, as he paused before it. “Not if _you_ will go _first_ and hold it for me,” she answered. “But I cannot; they will not take us both,” he said. She drew back from the edge of the vessel, and looking up into that aged face, said, tremulously: “Sir, you have dear friends who are waiting for you, and who would mourn your death. I have no one who loves me; I was going among strangers, and I should not be missed. You go; I am not afraid to die.” He looked at her in mingled awe and admiration, while those brave words, “I am not afraid to die,” smote him keenly. “Child,” he said, huskily, “it must not be. You are young and beautiful; there is a long life of happiness, I trust, before you. _My_ days are nearly spent, and I could not accept such a sacrifice. Come, they are clamoring impatiently at the delay. Give me one kiss, such as you would give to your own father were he living, and then I will help you down; or, if you are afraid, the sailors shall tie a rope about you and let you down.” He bent his head, his face filled with a yearning tenderness, to hers. “The captain and the sailors—must they remain and perish, too?” she asked, breathlessly, while she shuddered as a hot wave of smoke came pouring over them. “Yes; there is room for no one but you. Come; they will not wait longer. One kiss, little Star, and—God bless you!” She looked up at him in surprise; he was asking God to bless her, when only last night he had sneered at her trust in Him. But she kissed him, for his lips were almost touching hers as he spoke. Then she leaned over the vessel’s side, and said, in loud, clear tones: “I shall not go with you; there are enough in the boat already.” She turned her back resolutely upon what seemed her only hope of safety, and, clinging to Mr. Rosevelt, she said: