n, whether they had themselves seen
the people, and they replied that they had not, but that advices had
been received from Mowbray of their approach, and as for themselves they
were hurrying at their utmost speed to a town ten miles off, where
they understood some yeomanry were stationed, and to whom the Mayor
of Mowbray had last night sent a despatch: Sybil would have enquired
whether there were time for her to reach the bridge and join her father
at the factory of Trafford, but the horsemen were impatient and rode
off. Still she determined to proceed. All that she now aimed at was to
reach Gerard and share his fate.

A boat put across the river; two men and a crowd of women. The mob had
been seen; at least there was positively one person present who had
distinguished them in the extreme distance, or rather the cloud of dust
which they created; there were dreadful stories of their violence and
devastation. It was understood that a body meant to attack Trafford's
works, but, as the narrator added, it was very probable that the greater
part would cross the bridge and so on to the Moor, where they would hold
a meeting.

Sybil would fain have crossed in the boat, but there was no one to
assist her. They had escaped, and meant to lose no time in finding a
place of refuge for the moment. They were sure if they recrossed now,
they must meet the mob. They were about to leave her, Sybil in infinite
distress, when a lady driving herself in a pony carriage, with a couple
of grooms behind her mounted also on ponies of the same form and colour,
came up from the direction of the Moor, and observing the group and
Sybil much agitated, pulled up and enquired the cause. One of the men,
frequently interrupted by all the women, immediately entered into a
narrative of the state of affairs for which the lady was evidently quite
unprepared, for her alarm was considerable.

"And this young person will persist in crossing over," continued the
man. "It's nothing less than madness. I tell her she will meet instant
death or worse."

"It seems to me very rash," said the lady in a kind tone, and who seemed
to recognise her.

"Alas! what am I to do!" exclaimed Sybil. "I left my father at Mr
Trafford's!"

"Well, we have no time to lose," said the man, whose companion had now
fastened the boat to the bank, and so wishing them good morning, and
followed by the whole of his cargo, they went on their way.

But just at this moment a gentleman, m