“The mob are in the house, sir,” called out Mr Bentley rushing up to them. “They say they will see everything.”
“Let them see everything,” said Lady de Mowbray, “but make a condition that they first let us go. Try Alfred, try to manage them before they are utterly ungovernable.”
Mr Mountchesney again left them on this desperate mission. Lady de Mowbray and all the women remained in the chamber. Not a word was spoken: the silence was complete. Even the maid-servants had ceased to sigh and sob. A feeling something like desperation was stealing over them.
The dreadful sounds continued increased. They seemed to approach nearer. It was impossible to distinguish a word, and yet their import was frightful and ferocious.
“Lord have mercy on us all!” exclaimed the housekeeper unable to restrain herself. The maids began to cry.
After an absence of about five minutes Mr Mountchesney again hurried in and leading away Lady de Mowbray, he said, “You haven’t a moment to lose. Follow us!”
There was a general rush, and following Mr Mountchesney they passed rapidly through several apartments, the fearful noises every moment increasing, until they reached the library which opened on the terrace. The windows were broken, the terrace crowded with people, several of the mob were in the room, even Lady de Mowbray cried out and fell back.
“Come on,” said Mr Mountchesney. “The mob have possession of the castle. It is our only chance.”
“But the mob are here,” said Lady de Mowbray much terrified.
“I see some Mowbray faces,” cried Sybil springing forward, with a flashing eye and glowing cheek. “Bamford and Samuel Carr: Bamford, if you be my father’s friend, aid us now; and Samuel Carr, I was with your mother this morning: did she think I should meet her son thus? No, you shall not enter,” said Sybil advancing. They recognised her, they paused. “I know you, Couchman; you told us once at the Convent that we might summon you in our need. I summon you now. O, men, men!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands. “What is this? Are you led away by strangers to such deeds? Why, I know you all! You came here to aid, I am sure, and not to harm. Guard these ladies; save them from these foreigners! There’s Butler, he’ll go with us, and Godfrey Wells. Shall it be said you let your neighbours be plundered and assailed by strangers and never tried to shield them? Now, my good friends, I entreat, I adjure you, Butler, Wells, Couchman, what would Walter Gerard say, your friend that you have so often followed, if he saw this?”