And then?—How to escape I knew not. The door I had entered by, almost impossible then, must be wholly so by now. The window was useless; the lights too narrow for a body to pass through, even had they not been barred. We were trapped indeed—the horrible moment only postponed awhile, and for two lives now instead of one. Still that strange exaltation held me. Never had I felt, as just then, the worthlessness of mere earthly life. What did it signify to the world, what did it signify to me, whether I was what men call alive, or what men call dead! I had tried for once to live for some purpose; and—as it seemed—had failed. I had thought, in myself, that I could help God; but God had chosen to go His own way—or let the devil go his—and do without me. Now all I knew was that, although I was not necessary to God, God was more necessary to me than ever before. Yes, though He slew me, would I trust in Him! Nevertheless, burn this young girl should not if I could help it. I made up my mind what to do—quickly enough, as was needful, for the room we had just left was all aflame. I had cut through one wall. I would try to cut through another; and, if I could not, I would wrap the blanket so closely round her that she should smother rather than burn⸺ All this darted through my mind, as thoughts are said to through a drowning man’s, in an instant of time. Not three minutes, indeed, had we been together in that second room before I was hewing at the wall. The first stroke jarred me to the shoulders. This was of brick, then. And how thick?—How could I tell? My heart sank within me, I own. A four-inch wall I might pierce. But a nine-inch, a fourteen-inch—and those forefathers of ours stinted neither material nor labour. They built solidly. Heaven help me—for my arms were aching and stiff already; and, even had they not been, I dared not strike too hard lest I broke the axe-handle, which was light and thin. A brief space, which seemed infinite, while the flames crackled behind us and the room filled with smoke. Again a brief space, and a frightful thought crossed my mind. Even if I succeeded, what was beyond? Might not the adjoining room be on fire likewise? For the strain became too great, too prolonged. Exhausted as I was by violent exertion in that stifling atmosphere, reaction set in. It was, I honestly believe, more physical than moral; but once more I felt that cruel sinking of the heart, along with almost uncontrollable terror of the bodily torment surely awaiting me. Trapped, hopeless, lost—my arms dropped at my sides. Shame, though, shame that I should turn craven now! So, praying as I had never prayed before, I heaved up weary hands and struck a desperate blow, which—cracked the axe-handle. But for this I could afford to care little, since I had felt the whole structure shake and bulge under that blow. I clutched the handle in both hands, and butted with the axe-head at the wall, using every ounce of force left in me.