What had gone of Cooney Peace had not the remotest idea. Whether he had escaped or been captured it was not possible for him to say; neither did he concern himself much about the fate of the tinker. In cases of this sort he felt that self-preservation was the first law of nature. As he was proceeding along he was overtaken by a covered cart. He persuaded the driver thereof to give him a lift on the road. By this means he managed to get many miles on his journey. Having made up his mind to take up his quarters at Bradford, he, on the first opportunity, took the train to that town. He was acquainted with a girl at Bradford, who was, to a certain extent, attached to him. She was a mill-hand. She was possessed of a considerable share of personal attractions. It was evening when Peace arrived at Bradford, and in the streets were throngs of persons. The factory hands had knocked off work; some were hastening homewards, others were making for some favourite house of entertainment, and groups of inveterate gossips were to be seen in various parts of the town. Peace walked jauntily along one of the main streets. Having threaded this, he turned round and retraced his steps. He seemed to be wandering about in a desultory way. A group of girls emerged from a turning out of the street. Three peals of laughter proved that they were in a merry mood. One of the girls came suddenly forward, and struck Peace in a familiar manner on the shoulder. “What! Charlie?” she ejaculated, in a tone of surprise and delight. “Who would have thought of seeing you at Bradford?” “Bessie dear,” said Peace, “don’t talk so loud; I’ve not been in the town half an hour, and――――” “What brought you here?” “I came to see you, my charmer.” The girl made a grimace――she didn’t quite believe what he said, but, nevertheless, felt flattered. Although one of the working class, she was very beautiful――her features being delicately chiselled, and her form being cast in one of nature’s choicest moulds; for the rest she was giddy, thoughtless, and her morals were not of the highest order. Her name was Bessie Dalton. “And your mother?” inquired the girl. “I left her at Hull,” returned her companion. The two walked on in close converse for some time. They passed through several streets, and eventually arrived at an unpretending-looking house, where Bessie lived. They both entered, and Peace was introduced to the landlord, and took one of the furnished rooms, which were let out to work people. He had a tolerably fair share of money, which would suffice for his immediate wants; and in the course of a few days he succeeded in getting some odd jobs in picture framing. In the evening he contrived to pick up a few shillings by playing the violin at some of the houses of public entertainment.