we
were out of the thick of the crowd, to call a vehicle.

The soldiers at the end of the street, when they saw who our party was,
and heard that we were passengers in the overturned carriage, let us go
by; "for we had been already well overhauled at the barrier," said they.

Once clear--and she kept her hand on my arm all the time--Kit said,--

"Then you are alive still, Barry?"

"Ay, Miss Kit; and ready to die for you."

"This is a dreadful place!" said she with a shiver, looking up at the
high houses we passed; "but it was worse before you found us."

How could I help, by way of answer, touching her hand with mine, as if
by accident?

"We are to go to the Hotel Lambert, Rue Boileau," said she; "and to-
morrow we are to seek our kinsmen the Lestranges."

"I have found them," said I.

Here Mrs Gorman looked up.

"Found them? That is good; we shall have shelter at last."

"Alas, mistress," said I, "they have lost all their goods and are living
in great poverty. It will be poor shelter."

Here the poor lady broke down.

"O Kit!" moaned she, "why did your father send us on this cruel journey?
Did he want to be rid of us before our time?"

"Nonsense, mother; he thought we should be safer here than among the
Leaguers in Donegal. So we shall be--at least we have Barry to protect
us."

Whereat we drove up at the Hotel Lambert.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

DAYS OF TERROR.

I confess, delighted as I was to find again my lady and my little
mistress, I could have wished them anywhere but in Paris at such a time
as this. How they reached the place at all it was difficult to
understand, till I heard that they had crossed from Dublin under the
escort of a prominent member of the Jacobin Club, with whom his honour
had large dealings in the matter of arms, and who had provided the
necessary passports.

"Indeed," said Miss Kit, "the soldiers everywhere were so respectful to
us that I think Monsieur Cazin must have passed us off as his wife and
daughter. At any rate he accompanied us into Paris, only quitting us at
the barrier, and has promised to call on us at the hotel to-morrow. See
here is his letter to the _maitre d'hotel_, in which he states that we
are French ladies, kinswomen of his own."

The _maitre d'hotel_, when he read the letter, made no difficulty about
admitting "_les citoyennes Cazin_" as he entered them in his book, and
their valet. So for that night, at least, we were safe. And as both
la