“Hark!” cried Jacob; “thank Heaven, there’s the military!” There was a sudden cessation of stones at the window. We heard the joyful sound of the horses’ hoofs in the street. A prodigious uproar ensued, then gradually subsided. The mob was dispersed, and fled in different directions, and the military followed. We heard them gallop off. We listened till not a sound, either of human voice or of horse’s foot, was to be heard. There was perfect silence; and when we looked as far as our eyes could reach out of the broken window, there was not a creature to be seen in the square or in the line of street to which it opened. We ran to let out our female prisoners; I thought only of Berenice--she, who had shown so much self-possession during the danger, seemed most overpowered at this moment of joy; she threw her arms round her father, and held him fast, as if to convince herself that he was safe. Her next look was for me, and in her eyes, voice, and manner, when she thanked me, there was an expression which transported me with joy; but it was checked, it was gone the next moment: some terrible recollection seemed to cross her mind. She turned from me to speak to that odious Lady de Brantefield. I could not see Mr. Montenero’s countenance, for he, at the same instant, left us, to single out, from the crowd assembled in the hall, the poor Irishwoman, whose zeal and intrepid gratitude had been the means of our deliverance. I was not time enough to hear what Mr. Montenero said to her, or what reward he conferred; but that the reward was judicious, and that the words were grateful to her feelings in the highest degree, I had full proof; for when I reached the hall, the widow was on her knees, with hands uplifted to Heaven, unable to speak, but with tears streaming down her hard face: she wiped them hastily away, and started up. “It’s not a little thing brings me to this,” said she; “none ever drew a tear from my eyes afore, since the boy I lost.” She drew the hood of her cloak over her head, and pushed her way through the servants to get out of the hall-door; I unbolted and unchained it for her, and as I was unlocking it, she squeezed up close to me, and laying her iron hand on mine, said in a whisper, “God bless yees! and don’t forget my thanks to the sweet _Jewish_--I can’t speak ‘em now, ‘tis you can best, and joined in my prayers ye shall ever be!” said our guardian angel, as I opened the door; and as she passed out, she added, “You are right, jewel--she’s worth all the fine ladies in Lon’on, feathers an’ all in a bag.”