Campbell shook his hand in silence: but turned suddenly, for another and a coarser voice caught his ear. It was Jones, the Lieutenant's.
"And now, my lads, take the Methodist Parson, neck and heels, and heave him into the quay pool, to think over his summons!"
Campbell went back instantly. "No, my dear sir, let me entreat you for my sake. What has passed has been too terrible to me already; if it has done any good, do not let us break it by spoiling the law."
"I believe you're right, sir: but my blood is up, and no wonder. Why, where is the preacher?"
He had stood quite still for several minutes after Campbell's adjuration. He had, often perhaps, himself hurled forth such words in the excitement of preaching; but never before had he heard them pronounced in spirit and in truth. And as he stood, Thurnall, who had his doctor's eye on him, saw him turn paler and more pale. Suddenly he clenched his teeth, and stooped slightly forwards for a moment, drawing his breath. Thurnall walked quickly and steadily up to him.
Gentleman Jan and two other riotous fellows had already laid hold of him, more with the intention of frightening, than of really ducking him.
"Don't! don't!" cried he, looking round with eyes wild—but not with terror.
"Hands off, my good lads," said Tom quietly. "This is my business now, not yours, I can tell you."
And passing the preacher's arm through his own, with a serious face, Tom led him off into the house at the back of the chapel.
In two hours more he was blue; in four he was a corpse. The judgment, as usual, had needed no miracle to enforce it.