crushing and at the same time
an animating remorse, as if somehow I had been responsible for her death
at least, in disregarding her warnings, and somehow doubly guilty in
mistrusting her motives, unmanned me and inflamed me. It was with
something of the same disregard of everybody but oneself that I had seen
in others that I fought my way to Twenty-first Street. What brutalities
I committed need not be recounted. That hour remains with me an acute
and jangled memory of frenzy. I reached the steps of Judge Brisbane's
house torn and bleeding. The terrible scenes were in my eyes, and the
dreadful, monotonous tumult of human desperation--that vast sigh of
doomed humanity, pierced here and there by the wails and shrieks of
despair and the cries of innocence for help, was in my ears. The
celerity with which it had all come on left no chance for cool reason.
An invisible phantom was at the heels of the community and we were part
of a mighty stampede. After fumbling for an instant at the bell and
pushing back several ghastly creatures who were on the steps, I must
have applied my shoulder to the door and pushed it in. Some one appeared
to be resisting on the other side, but it gave way and I half fell into
Judge Brisbane's vestibule. An instant later we were looking into each
other's faces, I, bloody and soiled and ragged and wild with the frenzy
of fear and impatience; he, pale as death, but resolute, and holding an
enormous bar over me.

"Quick!" he said. "Help me fasten this door!"

That sudden call of duty struck something habitual in me, and, without
knowing exactly what I was doing, I found myself assisting him in
barricading the door. The endeavor somewhat changed the current of my
thoughts from the danger that was unseen to the danger that was storming
under our windows. I must have muttered some kind of excuse for my
conduct to the Judge, for he said: "No time for apologies or
recriminations now. The house is full of my neighbors, who have come
here for protection. Go upstairs and look after the women. The best and
only thing we can do is to preserve a quiet place to die in, and not be
trampled to pieces. Are you armed?"

I dashed up the broad staircase, and found the upper rooms occupied by
women, some of whom, in morning attire hastily thrown on, were sitting
around with their heads in their hands, while others were huddled at the
windows, staring with strained looks of terror at the crowds on the
street. Walking