“Hark! what is that?” burst from Mrs. Chadwick, some half-hour later, as the sound of feet was heard from below; and Ellen, rushing to the stairs, came back followed by her father leaning on the arm of a big muscular man, in the blue and silver uniform of the yeomanry cavalry, a red cord down his pantaloons, hessian boots, and, to make assurance sure, M.Y.C. upon the shako which his height compelled him to doff ere he entered the doorway. “Where is Jabez Clegg?” faltered Ellen, as she pressed to her father’s side, led him to his chair, and placed his cushions to his liking, Augusta bringing a buffet on which to rest his foot. The stalwart young fellow’s eyes followed the attentive daughter, as he answered— “We have left Jabez Clegg at Mr. Mabbott’s, Miss Chadwick,” with an inclination of his head. “He was afraid you would be anxious for your father’s safety, and I offered to see Mr. Chadwick home in his stead.” Ellen’s black eyes expanded questioningly, and Mrs. Chadwick’s mild voice, in accents indicative of some fear, asked— “I hope not of necessity, sir?” “Well, yes, madam; and I must hasten back; he has received a sabre-cut on—— Eh, dear!” Ben Travis, for he it was, darted forward to catch Ellen Chadwick, just as he had previously caught Jabez at Mabbott’s gate:—Aspinall’s sabre had wounded two instead of one—Ellen Chadwick, who that day had seen what sabre-cuts meant, had fainted. Ben Travis bore her to the sofa, Mr. Chadwick pulled the bell-rope, Augusta ran for water, Mrs. Chadwick called for vinegar and burnt feathers, and in the midst of the commotion Mr. Ashton burst into the room in a state of excitement very foreign to his nature, which was tolerably easy-going. “Thank God, Augusta, you are here!” he exclaimed. “Your mother is almost distracted about you—Why, what is the matter with Ellen? The whole world seems gone mad to-day—or hell has set its demons loose. I’ve just seen our friend Captain Hindley’s horse take fright in Mosley Street at the firing, and dash with him against those half-built houses at the corner of Tib Street. He was pitched off amongst the bricks and scaffolding, and the horse dropped. Old Simon Clegg happened to be there, and he helped me and another to raise Hindley, who had fared better than his horse, for it was stone-dead, and he is only badly hurt.” He had gone on talking, though hardly anyone had listened to him. Ellen’s fainting fit engrossed feminine attention, and the yeoman, seeing her revive, was saying to Mr. Chadwick, “You will excuse me now, sir. I must look after our poor friend Jabez.” “Eh what! Jabez? You don’t mean to say anything has happened to Jabez Clegg?” exclaimed Mr. Ashton, pausing in the act of drawing forth his snuff-box. Travis was gone, but Mr. Chadwick, whose tongue now was none of the readiest, stammered out—