She was comfortably established in a small parlour over a shop, and was making friends with a pair of solemn-looking little children, who were strangely fascinated by, though half afraid of, the pretty stranger lady. The house which had opened its door to the Duke’s party--and had had several windows broken in consequence--belonged to some humble tradespeople, and they had put everything in their house at the disposal of the Duke and his daughter, and had done all in their power to make them comfortable during the brief time which they had been forced to remain prisoners, owing to the presence of the howling mob without. Then when the crowd was diverted to some other spot, and had left this little street empty, Bride had still been left in the security of this humble abode, whilst the Duke and Eustace made their way back to the hotel, promising to return for her when the kidnapped carriage should have been recovered, and they could make another attempt to quit the town. Bride had passed these two hours somewhat anxiously--her anxiety being for her father and Eustace, not for herself. The grocer’s two big lads, who acted the part of scouts, and ran in and out with items of news, reported that there was much excitement and rioting going on in the town now that all the mill hands were at liberty, and the supporters of the Radical candidate going to the poll. Sometimes sounds of distant yelling and hooting broke upon the ears of the listening girl, and sent a thrill through her frame. Sometimes there was a rush of growling operatives down the narrow street where she had found shelter, and for a moment her heart would stand still in expectation of an attack upon this very house; but the worthy people who had sheltered her took it all very quietly, and were not at all seriously disturbed. They said it was always so at election times, and smiled at the notion of there being any danger to dread. So Bride had sipped the tea brought to her, and begged for the company of the two little children when their mother was obliged to go to her duties below. The time passed somewhat wearily and anxiously, but at last the sound of a familiar footstep without warned her that her time of waiting was at an end. The door opened and Eustace entered, his face pale, his left arm in a sling, his clothes, though not exactly torn, and evidently carefully brushed, showing traces that their owner had been in some sort of skirmish or riot. The girl sprang up anxiously at sight of him, her face blanching a little. “My father----?” she began, her lips forming the words, though her voice was barely a whisper. Eustace’s smile reassured her.