been involved, of the fate of the Church of Free Souls, of the melancholy cloud that seemed gathering over her coming life. She could only think of the friendship she had felt for Clement Hope, and of the cruel way in which he had misunderstood her. It was like receiving a blow from the hand of some loved friend to whom one looked only for tenderness and protection.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE END OF THE CHURCH OF FREE SOULS.

Ir was a strange scene that now presented by the crowd on Tower Hill. The rescued congregation would of themselves have formed a sufficiently motley mass. There were artisans and their wives and daughters, earnest young clerks of Dissenting views and principles, from Peckham and Camberwell, and there were fashionable people from the West-end. Some of the ladies belonging to this latter class sat in their carriages, wrapped in cloaks and shawls, and waited to see the last of the fire as if it were an exhibition. Men of the class and of the views of old Matthew Starr made their way

through the carriages and audibly grumbled or cursed at the inmates, denouncing them as aristocrats, and wanting to know whether they thought they were seeing a show. The idea had got possession of the minds of many of the regular attendants in the Church of Free Souls that the fire was done by design, and according as their sympathies led them, some held it to be the malice of an aristocrat; some believed it to be the act of an unthinking and brutal mob. The freer souls were convinced that an ignorant and bigoted population of the lowest class around the hall had set the building on fire, out of pure detestation for all free thought. The men of the class of Matthew Starr were convinced that some devotee of the bloated aristocracy had done the deed. Not a few believed it to be an act of just vengeance against Montana for his deceit, and others were equally convinced that it was the work of some malevolent creature, some sycophant of the

higher class, who hated Montana because of the great things he had done for the poor.

All these conflicting emotions made the crowd who watched the fire from Tower Hill one in which an unusual element of bitterness and of passion prevailed. It was not in the least like the crowd which ordinarily rushes together to see a London fire, and which, save for those who are immediately concerned in the wreck, has no thought but one of idle curiosity, the sort of crowd that cheers for mere lightness of heart, and a sense of amusement and excitement, when another rafter falls in or another great burst of flame streams to the sky. There were compressed lips, and white faces, and passionate looks among the spectators who were massed together on Tower Hill, and hardly any group could become pressed against another without showing some feeling of antagonism, just as certain substances brought together start flame or explosion. It was believed now that

almost everyone, if not actually everyone, had been saved from the burning building.

At

least it was certain that all who were assembled in the great hall when the flames broke out might have been easily able to make their way into the safety of the open street. But there were some among the crowd who wondered what had become of old Matthew Starr. There were some of his fellows to whom he had more than once dropped his grim hints of revenge, and who could not help thinking that his hand must have been in this deed. They looked about for him everywhere, but could not see him.

Lady Vanessa Barnes, seated composedly in her carriage, attracted a considerable share of attention. Many of the younger men, as they were forced against the carriage by the swaying of the crowd, looked up in undisguised and simple admiration at her stately presence, her beauty, and her rich dress. But some others of