As the light from the street flashed upon his animated excited countenance, her heart received upon it the impression of a face it was not likely to permit easily to be effaced. “Heaven reward you, Mr. Vivian!” she exclaimed, hysterically, “you have come to save us.” “Or perish with you!” he replied, excitedly, “for I will not leave the room until you are all safely down.” “God bless you! God bless you!” sobbed Lotte Clinton, who, as white as death, was trembling like an aspen. “Now then, young fellow,” cried the conductor, putting his head into the window, “since you are here, you must make yourself useful, and be as cool as a cowcumber. Recollect, we ain’t here to spend a week. Shut that door; look sharp, or you’ll all be stifled in a minute.” No sooner commanded than done. At the same instant the clattering of horses’ feet at full gallop over the ringing stones, the heavy rumble of whirling wheels, the rattling cheers of a mob which was fast growing into a multitude, announced the arrival of the first practicable fire-engine. By this time Lotte was placed within the cradle of the fire-escape, and was safely lowered down to those beneath. A roar of gratification burst from the lips of the spectators as they beheld one added to the list of the saved. Hal watched until Lotte was lifted out of the escape, and then he turned to Flora, to request her to be in readiness to take her place in the little life-boat. It must be understood that these operations were performed with the utmost rapidity consistent with safety. The room was more than half filled by a dense smoke when Hal entered; and, although the door was since closed, it had streamed in through crannies and chinks so as to fill it--the open window rather holding it in the room than suffering it to escape. When Lotte and her companion, the conductor of the fire-escape departed, the atmosphere had become heated and stifling. It was also so thick that scarcely a thing a foot off could be distinguished. Hal’s astonishment and alarm can be imagined when, on the return of the cradle, he spoke to Flora and received no answer. But a moment past and she was at his elbow; she was now gone--he could not see her--he called to her, but received no reply. He felt about the room, but he was nearly suffocated, without succeeding in finding her. He heard the roaring of the flames beneath him: the smoke grew each moment thicker and denser: large drops of perspiration poured from him: instinctively he cowered to the floor and spread his hands in all directions, afraid to open his mouth for fear of being stifled. The conductor of the fire-escape now poked his head into the window, and shouted for the pair to save their lives while they had a chance, but he received no answer.