Some were clad in coat and pantaloons only; others had forgotten the coat, and exposed brawny and hirsute torsos to the October sun, and swelling muscles worthy of Athletes.

Others, again, were almost sans-culottes, only a remnant being left, which made the deficiency more tantalizingly painful to the eye.

Let the reader, then, imagine this spectacle of torn garments, tattered hats, and brandished clubs—­not forgetting the tatterdemalion negro children, who ran after the crowd in the last state of dilapidation, and he will have some slight idea of the masquerade, over which rode, in supreme majesty, the trunk-nosed Mr. O’Brallaghan.

We need not repeat the observations of the ladies; or detail their exclamations, fears, and general behavior.  Like all members of the fair sex, they made a virtue of necessity, and assumed the most winning expressions of timidity and reliance on their cavaliers; and even Miss Lavinia reposed upon a settee, and exclaimed that it was dreadful—­very dreadful and terrifying.

Thereat, Mr. Roundjacket rose into the hero, and alluded to the crowd with dignified amusement; and when Miss Lavinia said, in a low voice, that other lives were precious to her besides her own—­evidently referring to Mr. Roundjacket—­that gentleman brandished his ruler, and declared that life was far less valuable than her smiles.

In another part of the room Ralph and Fanny laughed and jested—­opposite them.  Mr. Rushton indignantly shook his fist in the direction of the crowd, and vituperated the Hibernian nation, in a manner shocking to hear.

Verty was leaning on the mantel-piece, as quietly as if there was nothing to attract his attention.  He had pushed Cloud through the mass with the unimpressed carriage of the Indian hunter; and his dreamy eyes were far away—­he listened to other sounds than shouts, perhaps to a maiden singing.

The little singer—­we refer to Miss Redbud—­had been much terrified by the crowd, and felt weak, owing to the recent sickness.  She looked round for a seat, and saw none.

The door leading into the inner sanctum of Mr. Rushton then attracted her attention, and seeing a comfortable chair within, she entered, and sat down.

Redbud uttered a sigh of weariness and relief, and then gazed around her.

The curtain was drawn back from the picture—­the child’s face was visible.

She went to it, and was lost in contemplation of the bright, pretty face; when, as had happened with Verty, she felt a hand upon her shoulder, and started.

Mr. Rushton stood beside her.

“Well, Miss!” he said, roughly, “what are you doing?”

“Oh, sir!” Redbud replied, “I am sorry I offended you—­but I saw this pretty picture, and just come to look at it.”

“Humph!” growled the lawyer, “nothing can be kept private here.”

And, with a softened expression, he gazed at the picture.