h seemed all himself.

That--Duchess of Osmonde though she might be--she was known in dark
places and moved among the foul evil there, like the sun which strove
at rare hours to cleanse and dispel it; that she had in kennels and
noisome dens strange friends, was a thing at first vaguely rumoured
because the world had ever loved its stories of her, and been ready to
believe any it heard and invent new ones when it had tired of the old.
But there came a time when through a strange occurrence the rumour was
proved, most singularly, to be a truth.

Two gilt coaches, full of chattering fine ladies and gentlemen, were
being driven on a certain day through a part of the town not ordinarily
frequented by fashion, but the occupants of the coaches had been
entertaining themselves with a great and curious sight it had been
their delicate fancy to desire to behold as an exciting novelty. This
had been no less an exhibition than the hanging of two malefactors on
Tyburn Hill--the one a handsome young highwayman, the other a poor
woman executed for larceny.

The highwayman had been a favourite and had died gaily, and that he
should have been cut off in his prime had put the crowd (among which
were several of his yet uncaught companions) in an ill-humour; the poor
woman had wept and made a poor end, which had added to the anger of the
beholders.

'Twas an evil, squalid, malodorous mob, not of the better class of
thieves and tatterdemalions, but of the worst, being made up of
cutthroats out of luck, pickpockets, and poor wretches who were the
scourings of the town and the refuse of the kennel. 'Twas just the
crowd to be roused to some insensate frenzy, being hungry, bitter, and
vicious; and when, making ready to slouch back to its dens, its
attention was attracted by the gay coaches, with their liveries and
high-fed horses, and their burden of silks and velvets, and plumes
nodding over laughing, carefree, selfish faces, it fell into a sudden
fit of animal rage.

'Twas a woman who began it. (She had been a neighbour of the one who
had just met punishment, and in her own hovel at that moment lay hid
stolen goods.) She was a wild thing, with a battered face and unkempt
hair; her rags hung about her waving, and she had a bloodshot, fierce
eye.

"Look!" she screamed out suddenly, high and shrill; "look at them in
their goold coaches riding home from Tyburn, where they've seen their
betters swing!"

The ladies in the chariots, prett