To right and left stretched the houses, overhead the darkening sky was flushed with rose; but it seemed as if the public lights had been forgotten.

There was not a living being to be seen.
She had put her hand on the latch of the gate, to open it and go out, when a sudden patter of footsteps made her hesitate; and the next instant a child appeared panting, breathless and terrified, running with her hands before her.
"They're coming, they're coming," sobbed the child, seeing the face looking at her.

Then she clung to the bars, staring over her shoulder.
Mabel lifted the latch in an instant; the child sprang in, ran to the door and beat against it, then turning, seized her dress and cowered against her.

Mabel shut the gate.
"There, there," she said.

"Who is it?
Who are coming ?" But the child hid her face, drawing at the kindly skirts; and the next moment came the roar of voices and the trampling of footsteps.
* * * * * It was not more than a few seconds before the heralds of that grim procession came past.