e,
even if I had wished to, which I do not think I did.

"He is overhead! See him--see him!" I now heard shouted from the lawn.
"He has dragged the curtains down! He is showering the walls with water!
Look--look! how wildly he works! He will be burnt himself. Ah! ah!"
All of which gave me strange thrills, and filled the darkness which
encompassed me with startling pictures, till I could hardly stand the
stress or keep myself from rushing to his assistance.

While my emotions were at their height a bell rang. It was the front
doorbell, and it meant the arrival of the engines.

"Oh!" thought I, "what shall I do now? If I run out I shall encounter
half the neighborhood in the back yard; if I stay here how shall I be
able to meet the faces of the firemen who will come rushing in?"

But I was not destined to suffer from either contingency. As the bell
rang a second time, a light broke on the staircase I was so painfully
watching, and Mr. Allison descended, lamp in hand, as he had gone up. He
appeared calm now, and without any show of emotion proceeded at once to
the front door, which he opened.

What passed between him and the policeman whose voice I heard in the
hall, I do not know. I heard them go up-stairs and presently come down
again, and I finally heard the front door close. Then I began to make
an effort to gain some control over my emotions, for I knew he had not
forgotten me, and that he soon would be in the vestibule at my side.

But it was impossible for me to hope to meet him with an unconcerned
air. The excitement I was under and the cold--for I was dressed lightly
and the vestibule was chilly--had kept me trembling so, that my curls
had fallen all about my cheeks, and one had fallen so low that it
hung in shameful disorder to my very waist. This alone was enough to
disconcert me, but had my heart been without its secret--a secret I was
in mortal terror of disclosing in my confusion--I could have risen above
my embarrassment and let simple haste been my excuse. As it was, I must
have met him with a pleading aspect, very much like that of a frightened
child, for his countenance visibly changed as he approached me, and
showed quite an extraordinary kindness, if not contrition, as he paused
in the narrow vestibule with the blazing lamp held low in his hand.

"My little girl," he began, but instantly changed the phrase to "My
dear young lady, how can I thank you enough, and how can I sufficiently
express my r