that the cellar
winder bars is mended; that's how I got in, and others may get in too. I
suppose you couldn't say, God bless you?"

The restraint Joyce had put upon herself was very great, and now that
the danger seemed passing, she began to give way.

"Yes," she said faintly; "I think you are sorry, and I say, may God
pardon you and bless you."

"Thank'ee," was the rejoinder; but still, though he moved back towards
the cellar door, he lingered.

"Suppose you wouldn't touch the likes of me with your little white hand?
I'd like to feel it once, just once."

With a great effort she held out her hand, cold and trembling with fear.
The man took it up, as he would some curious and precious thing, and
then, bowing over it, he waited no longer, and the cellar-door closed
behind him.

Joyce sank upon one of the straight-backed chairs, and was just becoming
unconscious of all outward things, when the latch-key was fitted into
the lock, and Gilbert came in.

With a cry of dismay, he closed the door, and hastened to take her in
his arms.

"My darling, what is it? What can have happened?"

He carried her, half fainting, into the dining room, and chafed her cold
hands, and held some water to her lips.

A great flood of tears relieved her at last, and then clinging to her
husband's neck, and still shuddering in every limb, she managed to tell
him the story of Bob Priday's visit.

"It is a very grave matter," Gilbert said; "if the man who is guilty of
your father's death is in Bristol, he ought to be apprehended and put on
his trial."

"He seems to bear us no ill-will now, Gilbert. He is penitent, I think;
and he said dear father fell from the horse, and that he did not
actually throw the stone at him. Oh! Gilbert, it seems to bring it all
back again."

"Dismiss it from your thoughts to-night, my darling, we shall need all
our strength and courage. I am sworn in as a special constable. The
people show increasingly signs of ill-will against those in authority.
If Wetherall persists in making a public entry into Bristol next week,
God only knows what will be the consequences. No one seems to be able to
take active measures. The mayor is kindly and well-intentioned, but he
has no strength of purpose, and if once the mob gets the upper hand,
and those in authority are frightened, there will be a riot such as
Bristol has never known. I think, if things do not look more promising,
I must send you to Abbot's Leigh with my m