Now she has mounted her milk-white charger Saladin, and with Evie Ravensdale and Nigel Estcourt on her right, and Flora Desmond and Archie Douglasdale on her left, is riding slowly forward. In close attendance behind are Rita Vernon and Léonie Stanley. The latter’s eyes are busy in the crowd, and seem to search the ranks forward as they ride along. The brilliant throng of mounted friends close in, the cheering of the crowd is deafening; it will be one long loud roar until the Hall of Liberty is reached. The way is kept by the Women’s Volunteer Regiments, and the order is perfect. As Gloria and Flora ride along, they catch glimpses of old, tried, true, and trusty friends among the ranks—friends who in time of trouble stood by them, and laboured lovingly to make easier the rugged path which they were then treading. It is a soul-inspiring sight. Many of the people have brought flowers with them, and as the procession approaches they cast them loosely in the air, out of which they descend in a shower of many colours to carpet the way, along which Gloria must pass, with their bright and variegated bloom. The strains of the White Guards’ band, the glitter of their white-and-gold uniforms, the loud cheering of the enthusiastic crowds as the brilliant cavalcade moves along, is a sight which the onlooker is not likely to forget. It thrills the hearts of that vast woman world, assembled to do honour to the one who has worked for and who has won their emancipation. One long triumphal march. One uninterrupted scene of unchecked enthusiasm is the welcome accorded her from the Docks to the Hall of Liberty. The sun is shining on the gilded statues and million panes which crown that wondrous structure, as she approaches the building which her genius conceived and raised,—approaches it, no longer as the hunted felon upon whose head the price of gold is set, but as a free woman, a victorious general who has conquered the demon armies of Monopoly and Selfishness, and thrown open to the people the free gates of happiness and reform. Now through the giant portals she rides once more. Great God! what a burst of welcome, and what a scene! From floor to ceiling the monster building is crammed. Every available space has been occupied; there is not a foot of standing room. She has uncovered, and they see her face as she rides round the circular ride towards the huge platform,—the same face of exquisite beauty which they remember and know so well. As she dismounts, she is received by the chairman of the committee appointed to carry out the day’s proceedings, and to present the people’s address of welcome, to which thousands of representative names from every county have been attached.