deserted homes, and wondering what had befallen them. The men had, for
the most part, been out in the streets gathering news. The tanner's wife,
assisted by two or three of the women, was busy at the great fire on the
hearth, over which hung some huge pots in which broth and porridge were
being prepared.

One by one, the men dropped in. No news had yet been heard as to the
decision of the council. It was dark when the tanner himself entered. His
face was stern and pale.

"It is settled," he said shortly. "The council have broken up. I have
just spoken to one of the members. They and the officers are unanimously
in favour of accepting the terms of James."

Exclamations of anger broke from some of the men.

"I cannot say aught against it," the tanner said, "though my heart feels
well-nigh broken. Had we only men here, I should say let us fight to the
last, but look at all these women and children! Think what thousands and
thousands of them are in the town. Truly, I cannot blame the council that
they have decided not to bring this terrible suffering upon the city."

"The Lord will provide for his own," a minister, who had come in with his
flock, said. "Friend, I had looked for better things from you. I thought
that you were steadfast in the cause of the Lord, and now that the time
of trouble comes, you fall away at once. Remember how Sennacherib and his
host died before Jerusalem. Cannot the Lord protect Londonderry
likewise?"

"The age of miracles is past," the tanner said. "Did we not see, in