They never met again, but Gervase felt in after days that there was one man in Ireland who might have saved his cause, had he not been checked by narrow prejudices and the bitter envy of those who did not understand his proud and chivalrous nature. At Limerick that fiery spirit blazed out for a while in all its native strength, but his cause was already doomed. When Gervase had reached Londonderry in safety, and had seen Dorothy placed under the protection of her aunt, he returned to his old lodgings over a linendraper´s shop in a small house near the Bishop´s-gate. In the meantime, memorable events had transpired in his absence. The Irish army, breaking through the defences of the Bann, had pressed on toward Londonderry, and having crossed the Finn, had closed upon the city. Colonel Lundy, whether through vacillation and cowardice or from deliberate treachery, had made no effort to oppose their approach, and had done his best to secure the surrender of the city. At the very moment when he was about to carry out his designs, the citizens awakened to his intentions, and took the authority into their own hands. They seized the keys and took possession of the walls; a new government was established in the city; the garrison was divided into regiments, and preparations were made to stand a long and stubborn siege. A great change had taken place in the city and in the spirit of the citizens since Gervase had ridden out of the gate, a fortnight before. The old look of dejection and irresolution had disappeared; one of unbounded enthusiasm and zeal had taken its place. Every able-bodied man carried arms and bore himself like a soldier. Swords clanked on the causeway; rusty muskets had been furbished up, and gentlemen and yeomen alike were filled with the same ardour, and wore the same determined air. Every regiment had its post. On the ramparts the guards were posted at regular intervals; little knots of armed and resolute men were gathered in the great square, and companies were being drilled from morning till night in the Bogside. A spirit of unyielding loyalty filled the air. The paving stones had been raised from the streets and were carried to the walls; blinds had been erected to screen the men on the ramparts. From the grey Cathedral tower two guns looked down on the Waterside, and on every bastion were others ready for use. At the Market house also cannon were planted to sweep the streets. At every gate there was a great gun.