our Grace!' and they thought her praying, but
_I_ knew she prayed to thee."

The Duchess put her hand on the woman's greasy, foul shoulder and
answered in a strange voice, nodding her head, her black brows knit,
her red mouth drawn in.

"'Tis over now!" she said. "'Tis over and she quiet, and perchance ere
this she has seen a fair thing. Poor soul! poor soul!"

By this time the attacked party had gained strength to dare to move.
The pretty creature who had been first dragged forth from the coach
uttered a shriek and fell on her knees, clutching at her rescuer's
robe.

"Oh, your Grace! your Grace!" she wept; "have mercy! have mercy!"

"Mercy!" said her Grace, looking down at the tower of powdered hair
decked with gewgaws. "Mercy! Sure we all need it. Your ladyship
came--for sport--to see a woman hang? I saw her in the gaol last night
waiting her doom, which would come with the day's dawning. 'Twas not
sport. Had you been there with us, you would not have come here to-day.
Get up, my lady, and return to your coach. Make way, there!" raising
her voice. "Let that poor fellow," pointing to the ashen-faced
coachman, "mount to his place. Be less disturbed, Sir Charles," to the
trembling fop, "my friends will let you go free."

And that they did, strangely enough, though 'twas not willingly, the
victims knew, as they huddled into their places, shuddering, and were
driven away, the crowd standing glaring after them, a man or so
muttering blasphemies, though none made any movement to follow, but
loitered about and cast glances at her Grace of Osmonde, who waited
till the equipages were well out of sight and danger.

"'Twas wasted rage," she said to those about her. "The poor light fools
were not worth ill-usage."

The next day the Duke heard the tale, which had flown abroad over the
town. His very soul was thrilled by it and that it told him, and he
went to her Grace and poured forth to her a passion of love that was
touched with awe.

"I could see you!" he cried, "when they told the story to me. I could
see you as you stood there and held the wild beasts at bay. 'Twas that
I saw in your child-eyes when you rode past me in the hunting-field;
'twas that fire which held them back, and the great sweet soul of you
which has reached them in their dens and made you worshipped of them."

"Twas that they _know_ me," she answered; "'twas that I have stood by
their sides in their blackest hours. I have seen their children born.