“Faith and I will. I’ll say everything I can in his favour--how he didn’t resist us, but behaved as quietly and as well as possible, and had sent all the people to the right-about before ever we had got up to them. I’ll say everything I know for him, poor fellow. For he’ll need it--with the charges they’ll bring against him.” The soldiers, at a sign from their superior, had walked the prisoner a little farther away, and Bride, looking anxiously into Captain O’Shaughnessy’s face, asked, in a low voice-- “What charges will they bring?” “Arson, for one thing,” answered the young man significantly. “You see, there’s been a lot of damage done in Pentreath to-night, and it’s pretty well known that Tresithny and another little cobbler fellow have been the stirrers-up of all this turbulence. They’ve got the cobbler fast enough; and now I’ve got Tresithny too. They’ll be examined to-morrow before the magistrates, and most likely committed for trial. It’s been a bad bit of business, and the country is getting exasperated with all this senseless rioting and destruction of property. They make signal examples now and again of ringleaders--just to try and deter others.” Bride turned very white in the dying moonlight. “What do you think they will do to him?” she asked, in a low voice. “Well, I can’t say. I’ll tell all you’ve told me, Lady Bride. I’ll say what there is to say in his favour, for he’s a plucky fellow, and deserves a better fate. He’d make an uncommon fine soldier, if he were only in the ranks now. But many men have been hanged for less than has been astir in Pentreath these past few days, and there’s a strong feeling in the place against this fellow Tresithny.” Bride caught her breath a little sharply, but her voice was quite calm as she bowed her adieus to the young officer. “Well, I must not detain you any longer, Captain O’Shaughnessy. I am grateful to you for telling me the truth, and for promising to befriend Saul Tresithny as far as you are able. You say he will be brought before the magistrates to-morrow--does that mean to-day? It is their day for sitting, I know.” “To-day! why, to be sure it is to-day,” answered the young man, with a short laugh. “Good morning, Lady Bride. I must be off after my men. They have been out the best part of the night. I’ll say all I can for that fellow Tresithny; but----” He sprang on his horse, and the rest of the sentence, if it was ever finished, was lost on Bride. She took Mr. Tremodart’s arm, and he felt that she was trembling all over. “This has been too much for you, Lady Bride,” he said, with his awkward gentleness. “I ought not to have let you come.” “It is not that,” answered Bride, in a very low voice. “I am not tired; it is the thought of _that_. Oh, Mr. Tremodart, is it true?--can they hang him for it?”