he time, so justly popular
among his fellow citizens, but a man of far less general estimation,
though not without his own value in society, lay murdered before
them--the brisk bonnet maker, Oliver Proudfute. The resentment of the
people had so much turned upon the general opinion that their frank
and brave champion, Henry Gow, was the slaughtered person, that the
contradiction of the report served to cool the general fury, although,
if poor Oliver had been recognised at first, there is little doubt that
the cry of vengeance would have been as unanimous, though not probably
so furious, as in the case of Henry Wynd. The first circulation of the
unexpected intelligence even excited a smile among the crowd, so near
are the confines of the ludicrous to those of the terrible.

"The murderers have without doubt taken him for Henry Smith,"
said Griffin, "which must have been a great comfort to him in the
circumstances."

But the arrival of other persons on the scene soon restored its deeply
tragic character.

CHAPTER XIX.

Who's that that rings the bell? Diablos, ho!
The town will rise.

Othello, Act II. Scene III.

The wild rumours which flew through the town, speedily followed by the
tolling of the alarm bells spread general consternation. The nobles
and knights, with their followers, gathered in different places of
rendezvous, where a defence could best be maintained; and the alarm
reached the royal residence where the young prince was one of the first
to appear, to assist, if necessary, in the defence of the old king. The
scene of the preceding night ran in his recollection; and, remembering
the bloodstained figure of Bonthron, he conceived, though indistinctly,
that the ruffian's action had been connected with this uproar. The
subsequent and more interesting discourse with Sir John Ramorny had,
however, been of such an impressive nature as to obliterate all
traces of what he had vaguely heard of the bloody act of the assassin,
excepting a confused recollection that some one or other had been slain.
It was chiefly on his father's account that he had assumed arms with his
household train, who, clad in bright armour, and bearing lances in
their hands, made now a figure very different from that of the preceding
night, when they appeared as intoxicated Bacchanalians. The kind old
monarch received this mark of filial attachment with tears of gratitude,
and proudly presented his son to his brother Al