My father bids us all do our duty, and sets us the example, madam," said Dorcas, as she prepared to take her departure.
It was a dark evening for the time of year; heavy thunderclouds were hanging low in the sky and obscuring the light.

The air was oppressive, and seemed charged with noxious vapours.

Part of this was due to the cloud of smoke wafted along from one of the great fires kept burning with the object of dispelling infection.

But Dorcas shivered as she stepped out into the empty street, and looked this way and that, hoping to see one of her brothers.

But nobody was in sight and she had just descended the steps and was turning towards her home when out from a neighbouring porch there swaggered a very fine young gallant, who made an instant rush towards her, with words of welcome and endearment on his lips.
In a moment Dorcas recognized him not only as the gallant who had addressed her once before, but also as Frederick Mason, her brothers' old playfellow, of whom such evil things were spoken now by all their neighbours on the bridge.
Uttering a little cry of terror, the girl darted back, turned, and commenced running like a hunted hare in the opposite direction, careless where she went or what she did provided she only escaped from the address and advances of her pursuer.