uld not
trouble Gilbert, he is very much hurt," and Joyce's voice faltered. "The
man who saved Gilbert's life is Susan's father, Bob Priday."

Piers made a gesture of astonishment. "The man who took our father's
life," he murmured.

"Indirectly, not intentionally quite, as we always thought. Piers, I
should like to go to the Infirmary, and take Susan with me. Will you
help us, and come with us?"

"You may get into another scrimmage, Joyce; is it right?"

"I think it is right," Joyce said, gently; "I asked God about it, you
know."

Here was Joyce's sense of strength in weakness; she had always a refuge
and a Councillor at hand. Her religion was not one of many words; it was
emphatically the religion of Peace--and in quietness and confidence she
could rest.

"It seems to me, Piers, as if it would be cruel to deny a dying man this
last act of grace."

"He does not deserve it."

"Ah! Piers, what do we deserve of God?"

"Well," he said, "I will go with you if I can get a hackney-coach; a
lame fellow like me can't very well trudge down there on foot. But as
you do everything to please other people, it is only fair I should try
to please you."

"I don't wish to tell mother yet, but I will go and call Susan, dear,
good Susan, and tell her to get ready."

"I hope she won't make a scene," Piers said, "I hate scenes, and I don't
see what good you will do, but here goes;" and Piers took his hat and
went to do his sister's bidding.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVI.

"FIRE SEVEN TIMES HEATED."

Taking a circuitous route by Granby Hill, where two little urchins were
waiting to scotch the wheels, the lumbering coach, of much larger
proportions than the modern fly, reached the gate of the Infirmary
before ten o'clock.

The coachman was very much excited by the events of the previous day,
and was rather glad to have the opportunity of taking back to Clifton
reliable information as to the state of the city.

He skirted the suburbs of Bedminster, and was somewhat proud of his
achievement.

Joyce left Piers in the coach, and, taking Susan's arm she went into the
large, gloomy entrance of the building.

Here people were standing in groups; some crying, some talking in angry
tones, and the surgeons and attendants all passing to and fro, as news
of those who had been wounded was hastily given to their friends.

As Joyce stood waiting to see the surgeon of the ward where Bob Priday
lay, a man came rushing in.