“Go,” repeated the other with more emphasis, “for Hilary’s sake; if I perish, tell her I fell in duty――why should she lose us both?” “Never!” was still the answer. “Go, you, dear Hepburn, for _her_ sake, it matters nothing what becomes of me.” By this time the second woman had nearly reached the ground; the third, with feeble, tottering step, was commencing the descent, seemingly more alarmed at this attempt than at the awful danger which had menaced her. Another minute and all would be safe, when just then a fiercer burst of flame issued from the window, as some new impulse was given to its fury, and another shout arose amid the crowd, “The powder! the powder!” At the same time another form was seen, a man laden with a heavy box issued from the garret window, and although the last woman had but advanced a few steps, he began, with frantic haste, to descend the ladder. “Back! back!” was the word which swelled in a shout from the indignant spectators; “wait for your turn, as you are a _man_!” It was no use; even as the cry rose in the air, the ladder snapped like a reed, and man and woman were hurled in one helpless writhing heap upon the gallant officer who had tried to save their lives. Maurice was unhurt. Another prolonged shriek echoed the voice of the falling wretches, and then came the silence of horror, only broken by the fierce crackling of the madly exulting flames. At the same moment the governor arrived on the spot. The sufferers were lifted from the ground and borne away; the fractures or contusions of the two who were uppermost did not render them wholly insensible, but the captain wore the appearance of a corpse; hurriedly they carried him from further danger, and the next moment, with a fearful explosion, the house blew up, the ruins of the front wall covering the spot where the two bold men had so recently stood. No more mischief was done. “Would to God that I had been in his place!” sighed Maurice, as he covered his insensible brother-in-law with some of the blankets readily produced. He was lying on a door, which his men tore down to carry him. “He is not dead,” said a surgeon, as he felt the pulsations of that heart which had beat so bravely. “Don’t smother him. Quick, with him to the hospital. His best chance! I will go on, and get matters ready.” “Forward, men; steady, my boys!” and they bore their dearly-beloved burden onward. There were tears among his crew. Tears trickled down rugged, weather-beaten cheeks; tears from eyes which could have confronted an enemy’s battery without flinching; but good captains make good men; and sailors, rough and hardy as they are, have often hearts within soft as a woman’s. He did not die then; he recovered his consciousness, and heard unflinchingly from the surgeons the fate which would probably be his. “Maurice, do you know what they say?” inquired he, as his brother-in-law visited him. The lieutenant hesitated to answer.