He occupied rooms in the Bank, in his fidelity to the House of

which he had grown to be a part, like strong root-ivy. It chanced

that they derived a kind of security from the patriotic occupation

of the main building, but the true-hearted old gentleman never

calculated about that. All such circumstances were indifferent to

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him, so that he did his duty. On the opposite side of the courtyard,

under a colonnade, was extensive standing for carriageswhere,

indeed, some carriages of Monseigneur yet stood. Against two of

the pillars were fastened two great flaring flambeaux, and in the

light of these, standing to in the open air, was a large grindstone: a

roughly mounted thing which appeared to have hurriedly been

brought there from some neighbouring smithy, or other workshop.

Rising and looking out of the window at these harmless objects,

Mr. Lorry shivered, and retired to his seat by the fire. He had

opened, not only the glass window, but the lattice blind outside it,

and he had closed both again, and he shivered through his frame.

From the streets beyond the high wall and the strong gate,

there came the usual night hum of the city, with now and then an

indescribable ring in it, weird and unearthly, as if some unwonted

sounds of a terrible nature were going up to Heaven.

“Thank God,” said Mr. Lorry,