She sprang out of bed and deluged her face with water. This revived her, and seizing her blanket-wrapper from the chair where she had thrown it on retiring, she slipped it on, thrust her feet into a pair of felt slippers, and flew to open her door, only to be met and forced back by a torrent of smoke that was red with flame. To her horror, she saw that the greater portion of the floor between her room and the stairway had been burned away, and the fire was leaping fiercely toward her. She wondered if everybody else had escaped, and blamed herself for having taken so heavy a sleeping potion. She listened, and thought she could catch the sound of low moans and cries above the crackling of the flames; but she could not tell which room they came from, and she knew that she could do nothing to help any one else, even if she could save herself. Back she went into her room, shutting out the hot flame and smoke, and sped to the window, hoping to find aid there. She could hear cries and shouts around the other side of the building, but there was no one in the narrow passage beneath her. She screamed for help; but the wall of brick before her only gave back mocking echoes in reply, and just then an intense heat about her feet made her look back into the room, and she saw that little puffs of smoke were beginning to curl up from the carpet. “Must I perish here alone? Must I die such a horrible death?” she cried, with a sinking heart, as she turned again to the window, gasping for breath. Just then a window in the opposite wall caught her eye, and she saw it was almost on a level with her own, although diagonally across. “If there was anything with which I could make a bridge, I could escape even now by that window,” she thought. Oh, joy! She suddenly remembered that a man had been papering the hall only the day before, but had not been able to finish it, and so had left his cutting-board leaning against the wall. If it were not already in flames she might make use of that, for surely it would be ample in length. She folded a wet towel about her mouth and nose, and sprang forth into the hall, to see if the board was still there. Yes; she could distinguish one end of it, and it had not yet taken fire, for it lay close against the wall. She groped her way to it, seized it, and, though it was hot and burned her fingers, dragged it through her room to the open window. Then using all her strength she shoved it out toward that other window. Would it reach across? The distance seemed greater than she at first thought. Yes, it would span the space, but the other window was closed! Oh, how hot and stifling her room was getting! she was panting, and a feeling of faintness began to come over her. She drew back the board a little, then, with an energy born of despair, she sent the end of it crashing through the glass, which, fortunately, was a broad pane, and then—she had her bridge!