It was well!  In another moment the whole floor, with a great, sobbing creak, swayed, gave way, and fell into the burning gulf of fire below.  The flames with a horrible roar rushed up, filling the upper space where the chamber floor had been; seizing on the window-shutters, mantel-piece, door-frames, and all the timbers attached to the walls; and finally streaming out into the passage as if in pursuit of the flying boys.

They hurried down the hot and suffocating staircase to the first floor, where the fire raged with the utmost fury.  Here the flames were bursting from the burning wing through every crevice into the passage.  Ishmael, in his wet woollen clothes, and the boys in their blankets, dashed for the last flight of stairs—­keeping their eyes shut to save their sight, and their lips closed to save their lungs—­and so reached the ground floor.

Here a wall of flame barred their exit through the front door; but they turned and made their escape through the back one.

They were in the open air!  Scorched, singed, blackened, choked, breathless, but safe!

Here they paused a moment to recover breath, and then Ishmael said: 

“We must run around to the front and let them know that we are out!” The two boys that he had saved obeyed him as though he had been their master.

Extreme peril throws down all false conventional barriers and reduces and elevates all to their proper level.  In this supreme moment Ishmael instinctively commanded, and they mechanically obeyed.

They hurried around to the front.  Here, as soon as they were seen and recognized, a general shout of joy and thanksgiving greeted them.

Ishmael found himself clasped in the arms of his friend, the professor, whose tears rained down upon him as he cried: 

“Oh, my boy! my boy! my brave, noble boy! there is not your like upon this earth! no, there is not!  I would kneel down and kiss your feet!  I would!  There isn’t a prince in this world like you! there isn’t, Ishmael! there isn’t!  Any king on this earth might be proud of you for his son and heir, my great-hearted boy!” And the professor bowed his head over Ishmael and sobbed for joy and gratitude and admiration.

“Was it really so well done, professor?” asked Ishmael simply.

“Well done, my boy?  Oh, but my heart is full!  Was it well done?  Ah! my boy, you will never know how well done, until the day when the Lord shall judge the quick and the dead!”

“Ah, if your poor young mother were living to see her boy now!” cried the professor, with emotion.

“Don’t you suppose mother does live, and does see me, professor?  I do,” answered Ishmael, in a sweet, grave tone that sounded like Nora’s own voice.

“Yes, I do!  I believe she does live and watch over you, my boy.”

Meanwhile Mrs. Middleton, who had been engaged in receiving and rejoicing over the two rescued youths, and soothing and composing their agitated spirits, now came forward to speak to Ishmael.