While he spoke, I could hardly hear him for the bellowings outside. More savage still grew the cry—
"Burn 'em out! burn 'em out! They be only Quakers!"
"There's not a minute to lose—stop—let me think—Jael, is that a pistol?"
"Loaded," she said, handing it over to him with a kind of stern delight. Certainly, Jael was not meant to be a Friend.
John ran down-stairs, and before I guessed his purpose, had unbolted the hall-door, and stood on the flight of steps, in full view of the mob.
There was no bringing him back, so of course I followed. A pillar sheltered me—I do not think he saw me, though I stood close behind him.
So sudden had been his act, that even the rioters did not seem to have noticed, or clearly understood it, till the next lighted torch showed them the young man standing there, with his back to the door—OUTSIDE the door.
The sight fairly confounded them. Even I felt that for the moment he was safe. They were awed—nay, paralyzed, by his daring.
But the storm raged too fiercely to be lulled, except for one brief minute. A confusion of voices burst out afresh—
"Who be thee?"—"It's one o' the Quakers."—"No, he bean't."—"Burn 'un, anyhow."—"Touch 'un, if ye dare."