There was dead silence after this speech, which was evidently the culminating oration of a hot debate, and a voice from the crowd called out-- “Us ban’t agwain’ vur tu be a-killed by the Duke’s men an’ theer guns--we’m had enough o’ guns. We’ll de dalled ef we du! Ef we can’t have a slap at t’old varmer’s ’chines, us’ll gwo home tu our beds. Be yu agwaine to take we theer or ban’t yu?” “I’ll not take yu tu the varm, nor yet stand by and zee yu gwo!” answered Saul hotly, lapsing from the dignity of speaker into that of a common disputer, and for a minute the battle raged again; but perhaps the crowd from Pentreath had about tired itself out, for there was no very determined resistance to Saul’s resolute opposition, and evidently no disposition in the mob to run the gauntlet of the Duke’s well-known and organised opposition to such attacks. In the darkness of the night--darkest before the dawn--the crowd slowly melted away, slowly at first, but with considerable rapidity, as the men realised that they were hungry, and tired, and cold, and that many of them had plunder from the burning mill to secrete before the authorities came in search of them. Before the moon shone out again the mob had melted like snow before the sun, and Mr. Tremodart and Bride, whose figures seemed to rise up out of the very ground before the astonished gaze of one man left standing alone upon the moor, found themselves face to face with Saul Tresithny, who looked in the white low moonlight as though confronted by veritable wraiths. “Saul,” said Bride, coming one step forward, “why do you hate my father so much? What ill has he ever done to you, or to any in St. Bride?” The man made no attempt to reply, till the glance fixed full upon him seemed to draw the answer, but without his own volition. “It is not he himself I hate,” he said, speaking with difficulty, “it is the whole system he supports. He is one of the enemies of the cause of the people. He and all his class are barriers and bulwarks against our freedom. You do not understand; you could not. But we do, and Mr. Marchmont will tell you all, if you ask him. He knows. It is not the men themselves we hate, but the power they hold over us. We will not have it longer. We will break the yoke off our neck.” At this moment the sound of galloping horse-hoofs was heard along the soft turf, and the three standing in the moonlight saw a young officer of dragoons, followed by three mounted troopers, heading straight for them. “That’s the fellow!” cried the officer; “seize him, men, and make him fast. I thought we’d run him to earth here. That’s your man. See he does not escape you!” [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XI _DUKE AND DEFAULTER_ Bride made three steps forward and stood beside the horse ridden by the young officer, the moonlight shining clear upon her, and adding to the pure pale character of her beauty. “Captain O’Shaughnessy,” she said gently, “I think you are making a mistake about this man.”