’I don’t know.  Is the street full of people?  Oh! there is firing!  What shall I do?  Isabel, what do you say!’

Isabel was sitting still and upright; she hardly raised her eyelids, as she tranquilly said, ’Nothing shall induce me to go till he is better.’

’Isabel! this is most extraordinary!  Do you know what you are saying?’

Isabel did not weaken her words by repetition, but signed to Delaford to leave them, and he never ventured to disregard Miss Conway.  Virginia hung about her, and declared that she was quite right; and Lady Conway, in restless despair, predicted that they would all be massacred, and that her nephew would bleed to death, and appealed to every one on the iniquity of all the doctors in Paris for not coming near him.

Poor Louis himself was finding it very forlorn to be left to Fanshawe, whose one idea was essences, and Delaford, who suggested nothing but brandy.  Some aunts and cousins he had, who would not have left him to their tender mercies.  He was growing confused and feeble, speculating upon arteries, and then starting from a delusion of Mary’s voice to realize his condition, and try to waken his benumbed faculties.

At last, a decided step was heard, and he saw standing by him a vigorous, practical-looking Englishman, and a black-eyed, white-hooded little Soeur de Charite.  Captain Lonsdale, on hearing the calls for surgical aid, had without a word, hurried out and secured the brisk little Sister, who, with much gesticulation, took possession of the arm, and pronounced it a mere trifle, which would have been nothing but for the loss of blood, the ball having simply passed through the fleshy part of the arm, avoiding the bone.  Louis, pleased with this encounter as a result of the adventure, was soon in condition to rise, though with white cheeks and tottering step, and to present to Lady Conway her new defender.

The sight of a bold, lively English soldier was a grand consolation, even though he entirely destroyed all plans of escape by assuring her that there was a tremendous disturbance in the direction of the Northern Railway, and that the only safe place for ladies was just where she was.  He made various expeditions to procure intelligence, and his tidings were cheerful enough to counteract the horrible stories that Delaford was constantly bringing in, throughout that Saturday, the dreadful 24th of June, 1848.

It was late before any one ventured to go to bed; and Louis, weak and weary, had wakened many times from dreamy perceptions that some wonderful discovery had been made, always fixing it upon Mary, and then finding himself infinitely relieved by recollecting that it did not regard her.  He was in the full discomfort of the earlier stage of this oft-repeated vision, when his door was pushed open, and Delaford’s trembling voice exclaimed, ’My Lord, I beg your pardon, the massacre is beginning.’

‘Let me know when it is over,’ said Louis, nearly in his sleep.