"Oh, do not use violence! He is one man, and you are many; but herwords died away, for there was no tone in her voice; it was but a hoarsewhisper. Mr. Thornton stood a little on one side; he had moved awayfrom behind her, as if jealous of anything that should come betweenhim and danger.
"Go!" said she, once more (and now her voice was like a cry). "Thesoldiers are sent for--are coming. Go peaceably. Go away. You shallhave relief from your complaints, whatever they are."
"Shall them Irish blackguards be packed back again?" asked one fromout the crowd, with fierce threatening in his voice.
"Never, for your bidding!" exclaimed Mr. Thornton. And instantly thestorm broke. The hootings rose and filled the air,--but Margaret did nothear them. Her eye was on the group of lads who had armed themselveswith their clogs some time before. She saw their gesture--she knew itsmeaning,--she read their aim. Another moment, and Mr. Thorntonmight be smitten down,--he whom she had urged and goaded to come tothis perilous place. She only thought how she could save him. Shethrew her arms around him; she made her body into a shield from thefierce people beyond. Still, with his arms folded, he shook her off.
"Go away," said he, in his deep voice. "This is no place for you."
"It is!" said she. "You did not see what I saw." If she thought her sexwould be a protection,--if, with shrinking eyes she had turned awayfrom the terrible anger of these men, in any hope that ere she lookedagain they would have paused and reflected, and slunk away, andvanished,--she was wrong. Their reckless passion had carried them toofar to stop--at least had carried some of them too far; for it is always thesavage lads, with their love of cruel excitement, who head the riot-recklessto what bloodshed it may lead. A clog whizzed through the air.
Margaret"s fascinated eyes watched its progress; it missed its aim, andshe turned sick with affright, but changed not her position, only hid herface on Mr. Thornton s arm. Then she turned and spoke again:"
"For God"s sake! do not damage your cause by this violence. You do notknow what you are doing." She strove to make her words distinct.
A sharp pebble flew by her, grazing forehead and cheek, and drawing ablinding sheet of light before her eyes. She lay like one dead on Mr.
Thornton"s shoulder. Then he unfolded his arms, and held her encircledin one for an instant:
"You do well!" said he. "You come to oust the innocent stranger You fall-you hundreds--on one man; and when a woman comes before you, toask you for your own sakes to be reasonable creatures, your cowardlywrath falls upon her! You do well!" They were silent while he spoke.
They were watching, open-eyed and open-mouthed, the thread of dark-red blood which wakened them up from their trance of passion. Thosenearest the gate stole out ashamed; there was a movement through allthe crowd--a retreating movement. Only one voice cried out:
"Th" stone were meant for thee; but thou wert sheltered behind awoman!"
Mr. Thornton quivered with rage. The blood-flowing had madeMargaret conscious--dimly, vaguely conscious. He placed her gently onthe door-step, her head leaning against the frame.
"Can you rest there?" he asked. But without waiting for her answer, hewent slowly down the steps right into the middle of the crowd. "Nowkill me, if it is your brutal will. There is no woman to shield me here.
You may beat me to death--you will never move me from what I havedetermined upon--not you!" He stood amongst them, with his armsfolded, in precisely the same attitude as he had been in on the steps.
But the retrograde movement towards the gate had begun--asunreasoningly, perhaps as blindly, as the simultaneous anger. Or,perhaps, the idea of the approach of the soldiers, and the sight of thatpale, upturned face, with closed eyes, still and sad as marble, though thetears welled out of the long entanglement of eyelashes and droppeddown; and, heavier, slower plash than even tears, came the drip ofblood from her wound. Even the most desperate--Boucher himself-drewback, faltered away, scowled, and finally went off, mutteringcurses on the master, who stood in his unchanging attitude, lookingafter their retreat with defiant eyes. The moment that retreat hadchanged into a flight (as it was sure from its very character to do), hedarted up the steps to Margaret.
She tried to rise without his help.
"It is nothing," she said, with a sickly smile. "The skin is grazed, and Iwas stunned at the moment. Oh, I am so thankful they are gone!" Andshe cried without restraint.
He could not sympathise with her. His anger had not abated; it wasrather rising the more as his sense of immediate danger was passingaway. The distant clank of the soldiers was heard just five minutes toolate to make this vanished mob feel the power of authority and order.
He hoped they would see the troops, and be quelled by the thought oftheir narrow escape. While these thoughts crossed his mind, Margaretclung to the doorpost to steady herself:but a film came over her eyes-hewas only just in time to catch her. "Mother--mother!" cried he; "Comedown--they are gone, and Miss Hale is hurt!" He bore her into the dining-room, and laid her on the sofa there; laid her down softly, and lookingon her pure white face, the sense of what she was to him came uponhim so keenly that he spoke it out in his pain:
"Oh, my Margaret--my Margaret! no one can tell what you are to me!
Dead--cold as you lie there, you are the only woman I ever loved! Oh,Margaret--Margaret!"
Inarticulately as he spoke, kneeling by her, and rather moaning thansaying the words, he started up, ashamed of himself, as his mother camein. She saw nothing, but her son a little paler, a little sterner than usual.
"Miss Hale is hurt, mother. A stone has grazed her temple. She has lost agood deal of blood, I"m afraid."
"She looks very seriously hurt,--I could almost fancy her dead," saidMrs. Thornton, a good deal alarmed.
"It is only a fainting-fit. She has spoken to me since." But all the blood inhis body seemed to rush inwards to his heart as he spoke, and heabsolutely trembled.
"Go and call Jane,--she can find me the things I want; and do you go toyour Irish people, who are crying and shouting as if they were mad withfright."
