began to receive anonymous letters assuring him that he had “but one more day to live.”  He tossed them contemptuously aside, and turned to the telegrams imploring assistance.  In every blow struck his iron will and heavy hand were felt.  For a hundred hours, through the storm, he kept his hand on the helm and never closed his eyes.  He inspired confidence in the men who obeyed him, and the humblest of them became heroes.

The city was smitten with an awful paralysis.  Stages and street cars had very generally ceased running; shops were closed; Broadway and other thoroughfares and centres usually so crowded were at times almost deserted; now and then a hack would whirl by with occupants that could not be classified.  They might be leaders of the mob, detectives, or citizens in disguise bent on public or private business.  On one occasion a millionnaire whose name is known and honored throughout the land, dressed in the mean habiliments of a laborer, drove a wagon up Broadway in which was concealed a load of arms and ammunition.  In hundreds of homes fathers and sons kept watch with rifles and revolvers, while city and State authorities issued proclamations.

It was a time of strange and infinite vicissitude, yet apparently the mob steadily attained vaster and more terrible proportions, and everywhere lawlessness was on the increase, especially in the upper portions of the city.

Mr. Vosburgh, with stern and clouded brow, obtained information from all available sources, and flashed the vital points to Washington.  He did not leave Marian alone very long, and as the day advanced kept one of his agents in the house during his absences.  He failed to meet Merwyn at headquarters, but learned of the young man’s brave action from one of his wounded comrades.

When Mr. Vosburgh told Marian of the risks which her new friend was incurring, and the nature of the fighting in which he was engaged, she grew so pale and agitated that he saw that she was becoming conscious of herself, of the new and controlling element entering into her life.

This self-knowledge was made tenfold clearer by a brief visit from Mrs. Ghegan.

“Oh! how dared you come?” cried Marian.

“The strates are safe enough for the loikes o’ me, so oi kape out o’ the crowds,” was the reply, “but they’re no place fer ye, Miss Marian.  Me brogue is a password iverywhere, an’ even the crowds is civil and dacent enough onless something wakes the divil in ’em;” and then followed a vivid account of her experiences and of the timely help Merwyn had given her.

“The docthers think me Barney’ll live, but oi thank Misther Merwyn that took him out o’ the very claws uv the bloody divils, and not their bat’s eyes.  Faix, but he tops all yez frin’s, Miss Marian, tho’ ye’re so could to ’im.  All the spalpanes in the strates couldn’t make ‘im wink, yet while I was a-wailin’ over Barney he was as tender-feelin’ as a baby.”