ladders,--there! there! at the window, where the mother stands with the
babe! Splash and hiss comes the water; pales, then flares out, the
fire! Foe defies foe; element, element. How sublime is the war! But
the ladder, the ladder,--there, at the window! All else are saved,--the
clerk and his books; the lawyer with that tin box of title-deeds; the
landlord, with his policy of insurance; the miser, with his bank-notes
and gold: all are saved,--all but the babe and the mother. What a crowd
in the streets; how the light crimsons over the gazers, hundreds on
hundreds! All those faces seem as one face, with fear. Not a than
mounts the ladder. Yes, there,--gallant fellow! God inspires, God
shall speed thee! How plainly I see him! his eyes are closed, his teeth
set. The serpent leaps up, the forked tongue darts upon him, and the
reek of the breath wraps him round. The crowd has ebbed back like a
sea, and the smoke rushes over them all. Ha! what dim forms are those
on the ladder? Near and nearer,--crash come the roof-tiles! Alas and
alas! no! a cry of joy,--a "Thank Heaven!" and the women force their way
through the men to come round the child and the mother. All is gone
save that skeleton ruin. But the ruin is seen from above. O Art! study
life from the roof-tops!




CHAPTER III.


I was again foiled in seeing Trevanion. It was the Easter recess, and
he was at the house of one of his brother ministers somewhere in the
North of England. But Lady Ellinor was in London, and I was ushered
into her presence. Nothing could be more cordial than her manner,