ment of infantry into the bargain, sooner or later at their heels.

The rioters had got out of the town, and started for the moor, making a slight détour towards the mines in order to deceive the military, three-quarters of an hour before the first detachment of troops entered Rentworth. They were, therefore, considerably in advance of Nugent and his troop. But they were on foot, and well knew that every minute must lessen the distance between them and their mounted pursuers. Harrill therefore thought to draw off the attention of the yeomanry, and especially of Nugent, from Beaumont House, the real object of the mob's animosity, by setting the Manor Farm ricks and haymows in a blaze. He judged the yeomanry would turn off in that direction the moment they beheld so great a conflagration in the distance. Leaving the navvy in the helmet to lead on the bulk of the multitude, about three hundred in number, Harrill went off with the remainder along the road that led direct to the Manor Farm.

The mob were to proceed more leisurely in order to give time to Harrill to rejoin them. This he hoped to do in threequarters of an hour by pushing across the country by a short cut from the Manor Farm.

As, however, they neared the village of Okenham, the foremost of the multitude slackened their pace, and the banner with the skull and cross-bones fell gradually to the rear. The chief leaders were in loud altercation as to what was to be done when they reached Beaumont House. Drink was the first thing desired by the tired and thirsty mob. Some, however, were cool-headed enough to determine that a good handful of gold, or, in default of gold, plenty of solid silver plate, should be handed out by old Usherwood, or they would have his house about his ears. A few entertained more desperate designs.

But the larger number were of quite a different stamp, and had no malicious object in view; nay, would have shrunk from any deliberate act of cruelty or dishonesty. Their object was to terrify the "Railway Rogues" into doing justice by those in their employ.

At this juncture Weston took the opportunity, unobserved, to escape across an adjoining field, nor did he stop running until he had put a considerable distance between himself and the riotous assemblage in the Rentworth road. He paused at

last, however, and looked about him, as if to make sure of his whereabouts.

"Ah! there is the lane leading to Eastwood, two fields off. I know it by the crooked pollard ash. Then beyond is the hill which stretches away towards Clawthorp. Clawthorp," he repeated" Clawthorp, and at Clawthorp is the lunatic asylum. Would I had never seen it! But all is over now. She is dead-dead, and buried! And I am here-wretched and despised-dogged and persecuted by Harrill-obliged to submit, yet loathing him from the bottom of my soul. If it were not for Lucy, I could envy that poor lady, first smitten by madness, then passing from madness to death! But I must live to watch over and comfort Lucy, come what will. Even if I am disgraced, we can fly to Australia-that is, if she would but get stronger-would but get stronger. But I must not waste time. I must try to thwart that scoundrel Harrill. Fool that I was, to think that my gibberish could influence a drunken mob! Upon my word, I have had a bit of a lesson!" And he gazed ruefully at his muddy and dripping garments. "I must run, if it is but to keep myself warm. Let me see. There is Colonel Clair. He is a good plucky fellow. The yeomanry will be up before nightfall, that's sure. All we want is to gain time. I'll cross the river by the mill-dam, and be over to Colonel Clair's in a jiffy! I think he'll help us. But if Harrill hears of it, I am as good as ruined. Well, I'll risk it. So here goes !"

And Weston pushed forwards across the fields in the direction of Eastwood-lane.

We must now, however, return to Beaumont House. Here, as we have stated, everything was in commotion. The clatter of tongues and general disturbance was, of course, mostly confined to the servants' part of the house, and Lovell had been quietly sitting in the drawing-room, reading a new Quarterly that contained an ecclesiastical article painfully interesting to him, in blissful ignorance of the excitement prevailing in the household. At length, however, the servants, who, we have said, were busy closing shutters and outside blinds, reached the drawing-room windows, and, standing on the lawn outside, commenced closing the jalousies, ignorant that any one was sitting in the room. They did so gently, for fear of disturbing the sick gentleman above, and Lovell heard them not; but the room, as each shutter was closed, becoming darker and darker, he began to conclude that night

was setting in. So, closing his book, he rose from his chair, and suddenly perceived what the servants were about. On asking what was the matter, they breathlessly told him, both speaking together, the news of the approach of the rioters. At that moment Lady Maud rushed into the room, exclaiming,—

"Mr. Lovell, dear sir, can you help us? Is there anything Can you advise us?"

to be done?

"How many are the rioters, and-whereabouts are they?" asked Lovell.

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They must be within three miles of us-there are hundreds of them—some say thousands-and they are bound for this house!"

"But are you sure, Lady Maud—are you sure ?

"Yes, yes, yes-everybody says so. There is no doubt. of it. My poor husband's connection with the railway has exposed him to the hatred of the rioters. They think that he, poor man, is one of those who have injured them, whereas he is a fellow-victim with themselves."

"How many men have you on the premises?" Lovell went on to inquire hastily; "and what arms have you? A few resolute fellows, well armed, can keep hundreds at bay."

"Arms! men!" cried Lady Maud. "The first shot fired will be death to my husband. Perfect quiet is the sole means of saying his life. If the mob merely stand and shout, without lifting a little finger against the house, it is enough—it will do it will kill him-kill him, Mr. Lovell!" she said, seizing his arm firmly.

Lovell was indeed staggered.

"Have you spread the alarm? Have you sent to Okenham?"

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People have been sent in various directions. We expect the yeomanry before night. It is our sole hope."

Lady Maud walked to and fro hastily, and without that soft leisurely grace usually visible in her movements. She was no longer a fine lady gliding swan-like through the shallows of fashionable life. She was an anxious, griefstricken woman, struggling with danger and calamity. She clenched her small, plump hand with energy, and exclaimed,

"If I were a man, I would meet those fellows face to face in the high road, and tell them the plain facts of the case.

Then, if they persisted, I would shoot the foremost dead, and let the rest kill me and all I love afterwards!"

"Lady Maud," said Lovell, taking her hand, "be calm. I will do my best to help you. Be calm, and trust in God." "His wrath is gone out against me," replied Lady Maud, bitterly.

"But in wrath He remembers mercy. He desires to draw you to Him. Submit to His will in faith. Seek Him, Lady Maud, in prayer. Meanwhile, I will do my best to save those you love from injury."

Lady Maud pressed his hand almost with a feeling of affection, and retained it for a moment. But it was a time for action; and Lovell, without listening to his companion's expressions of anxiety about his personal safety, hastened from the house, and, standing upon the lawn in front, carefully but rapidly surveyed the country immediately in front of Beaumont House, between the park and the wide marshy plain of which we have already spoken.

CHAPTER XI.

DEFENCE OF BEAUMONT HOUSE.

COLLECTING as many men as could be depended upon, Lovell descended into the valley, and advanced along the Rentworth road a couple of hundred yards to a small bridge. The bridge spanned the stream flowing through the valley, and Lovell resolved to barricade it as well as he could and make

a stand at that point against the mob. A waggon overturned, with a few loads of turf that chanced to lie handy, and plenty of fresh-cut thorns from the woodyard, soon made a rather formidable barrier against an attack of an imperfectly armed rabble. Behind it Lovell's men stood prepared to offer a stout resistance, with bludgeons, poles, and other weapons hastily provided.

Lovell's energy and self-reliance under the emergency would have astonished the Rev. Augustine Smithers. He was himself almost surprised at it, and seeing how the men responded to his brief and hearty words of command and encouragement, began to think that even in the pulpit, when he was trying

to save men's souls, he might address his congregation with something of the same vigour and simplicity of style as that he now instinctively adopted.

Lovell, highly satisfied with his essay in the art of fortification, was just sending a messenger back to Beaumont House to tell Lady Maud and the ladies to take heart, for he hoped to keep the mob at bay until the soldiers arrived, when he heard the sound of a carriage passing rapidly along the high road to Westbourne that crossed the Rentworth road at right angles. The carriage was Sir Eliot Prichard's. It stopped, and that worthy knight, alighting, hastily came towards him, speaking rather out of breath.

"Beg your pardon, Mr. Lovell. Have heard strange. stories as I passed the last turnpike on my way from Eastwood station. You know I've been in town for a few days. Only returned this morning. Find there have been riotsrailway riots, and likely to be more-and likely to be more. So I am bound for home. Every magistrate, you see, should be at his post, Mr. Lovell-at his post where he can be found when wanted. But what in the world are you doing here, Mr. Lovell? The last question was uttered as he came close up to Lovell, and had a full view of the thorns and the parapet.

"The mob are coming this way," replied Lovell, quietly. "They want to burn Usherwood's house, and we mean to stop them."

"Then I must be off home!" rejoined Sir Eliot, with renewed energy. "I must be at my post-at my post where I can be found when wanted. I must be off home!" He paused as he was in the act of turning, and lowering his voice, added, "I'm extremely concerned to hear this about Usherwood."

"His illness? Yes," rejoined Lovell.

No, no, no! Illness is illness, and can't be helped. I mean his losses in this unfortunate railway, Mr. Lovell—his losses! You have heard of them, of course?"

Lovell hastily assented, for he thought the knight a dreadful bore at such a moment.

"You will see Lady Maud by and by?" continued Sir Eliot.

"Perhaps I may."

"Then be so kind as to give her this little note, please. Many thanks, Mr. Lovell."