"Bring her in here," said Savrola. “Moret, help me." He half carried, half supported her up the steps into the small waiting-room. Godoy, Renos, and half a dozen of the Democratic leaders, who had been discussing the speech, grouped themselves around her curiously. He placed her in a chair. "A glass of water," he said quickly. Somebody handed him one, and he turned to offer it to her. Lucile, incapable of speech or motion, saw no way of escape. He must recognise her. The ridicule, the taunts, the danger, all were plain to her. As she made

a feeble effort with her hand to decline the water, Savrola looked hard at her through her thick veil. Suddenly he started, spilling the water he was holding out to her. He knew her then! Now it would come-a

terrible exposure!

"Why, Mirette," he cried, "my little niece! How could you come alone to such a crowded place at night? To hear my speech? Godoy, Renos, this is indeed a tribute! This means more to me than all the cheers of the people. Here is my sister's daughter who has risked

the crowd to come and hear me speak. But your mother," he turned to Lucile, "should never have allowed you; this is no place for a girl alone. I must take you home. You are not hurt? If you had asked me, I could have ensured a seat for you out of the crowd. Is my carriage there? Good, we had better get home at once; your mother will be very anxious. Good-night, gentlemen. Come, my dear." He offered her his arm and led her down the steps. The people who filled the street, their upturned faces pale in the gaslight, cheered wildly. He put her into his carriage. "Drive on, coachman," he said, getting in himself.

"Where to, Sir?" asked the man.

Moret advanced to the carriage. "I will go on the box," he said. "I can take the carriage on after dropping you," and before Savrola could say a word he had climbed on to the seat beside the driver.

" Where to, Sir?" repeated the coachman. Home," said Savrola desperately.

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The carriage started, passed through the cheering crowds, and out into the less frequented parts of the city.

CHAPTER XI.

IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT.

LUCILE lay back in the cushions of the brougham with a feeling of intense relief. He had saved her. An emotion of gratitude filled her mind, and on the impulse of the moment she took his hand and pressed it. It was the third time in their renewed acquaintance that their hands had met, and each time the significance had been different.

Savrola smiled. "It was most imprudent of your Excellency to venture into a crowd like that. Luckily I thought of an expedient in time. I trust you were not hurt in the throng?"

་

No," said Lucile; "a man struck me with his elbow and I screamed. I should never have come."

"It was dangerous." "I wanted to

She paused.

"To hear me speak," he added, finishing her sentence for her.

"Yes; to see you use your power."

"I am flattered by the interest you take in me."

"Oh, it was on purely political grounds."

There was the suspicion of a smile on her face. He looked at her quickly. What did she mean? Why should it be necessary to say so? Her mind had contemplated another reason, then.

I hope you were not bored," he said.

"It is terrible to have power like that," she replied earnestly; and then after a pause, "Where are we going to?"

"I would have driven you to the palace," said Savrola, "but our ingenuous young friend on the box has made it necessary that we should keep up this farce for a little longer. It will be necessary to get rid of him. For the present you had best remain my niece."

She looked up at him with an amused smile, and then said seriously: "It was brilliant of you to have thought of it, and

noble of you to have carried it out. I shall never forget it; you have done me a great service."

"Here we are," said Savrola at length, as the brougham drew up at the entrance of his house. He opened the carriage door; Moret jumped off the box and rang the bell. After a pause the old housekeeper opened the door. Savrola called to her. "Ah, Bettine, I am glad you are up. Here is my niece, who has been to the meeting to hear me speak and has been jostled by the crowd. I shall not let her go home alone to-night. Have you a bedroom ready?"

"There is the spare room on the first floor," answered the old woman; "but I fear that would never do."

"Why not?" asked Savrola quickly.

Because the sheets for the big bed are not aired, and since the chimney was swept there has been no fire there."

"Oh, well, you must try and do what you can. Good-night, Moret. Will you send the carriage back as soon as you have done with it? I have some notes to send to