She did not and could not love this old man--she was, perhaps, incapable of loving anyone--but she loved well the position her marriage gave her, though a viscount's daughter, with the luxury and splendour in which she was cradled when at home. She had been used since childhood to obedience; to be followed and caressed; to have every wish gratified, every caprice supplied; to see every doubt and difficulty cleared away; to feel neither pain nor illness, not even the least excitement about anything; and now--now, the man with whom she had linked her fate was at the mercy of an infamous and brutal foreign mob; and with her shriek there came a cry to Chute to save him; but Trevor never heard her, for the moment hands were laid on Sir Carnaby, followed by Tom Travers, his servant, he had plunged into the moving and shouting mass, which went surging down the street; then Lady Evelyn saw the three disappear in the obscurity; out of which there came the roar of mingling shouts, the gleam of cutlasses as the night-watch attacked the rioters; and then followed the red flashes and the report of musketry, as the Prussian guard at the Rathhaus opened fire upon them; and Lady Evelyn, unused, as we have said, to any excitement, especially the sudden and unwonted horrors of an episode like this, fainted, and was borne senseless into the hotel. Meanwhile, amid the wild whirl of that seething mob, how fared it with Trevor Chute and him whom he sought to save or rescue? In all his service in India--service so different from the silk and velvet dawdling tenor of life in the Guards--dread of death had been unknown to Trevor Chute, and never felt by him, even when he knew that he was supposed to be dying of fever or a wound, or when he lay in the dark jungle, where the thick and rank vegetation ran riot, as it were; where the Brahminese cobra had its lair, the tiger and the cheetah, too; where, heavy, hot, and oppressive, the vapour rose like steamy clouds about the stems of the trees, while his life-blood ebbed away, and he had the knowledge that, if undiscovered, he might die of thirst, of weakness, under the kuttack dagger of a mountain robber, or by the feet of a wild elephant, for oblivion thus clouded the end of many a comrade who was reported 'missing,' and no more was known; so Chute was not to recoil before a German rabble now.