“Never mind!” said he, thinking to encourage her. “I am very sorry you should have been entrapped into all this alarm; but it cannot last long now; a few minutes more, and the soldiers will be here.”
“Oh, God!” cried Margaret suddenly; “there is Boucher. I know his face, though he is livid with rage—he is fighting to get to the front—look! look!”
“Who is Boucher?” asked Mr. Thornton coolly, and coming close to the window to discover the man in whom Margaret took such an interest. As soon as they saw Mr. Thornton, they set up a yell—to call it not human is nothing—it was as the demoniac desire of some terrible wild beast for the food that is withheld from his ravening. Even he drew back for a moment, dismayed at the intensity of hatred he had provoked.
“Let them yell!” said he. “In five minutes more——. I only hope my poor Irishmen are not terrified out of their wits by such a fiend-like noise. Keep up your courage for five minutes, Miss Hale.”
“Don’t be afraid for me,” she said hastily. “But what in five minutes? Can you do nothing to soothe these poor creatures? It is awful to see them.”
“The soldiers will be here directly, and that will bring them to reason.”
“To reason!” said Margaret quickly. “What kind of reason?”
“The only reason that does with men that make themselves into wild beasts. By Heaven! they’ve turned to the mill-door!”
“Mr. Thornton,” said Margaret, shaking all over with her passion, “go down this instant, if you are not a coward. Go down and face them like a man. Save these poor strangers, whom you have decoyed here. Speak to your workmen as if they were human beings. Speak to them kindly. Don’t let the soldiers come in and cut down poor creatures who are driven mad. I see one there who is. If you have any courage or noble quality in you, go out and speak to them, man to man.”
He turned and looked at her while she spoke. A dark cloud came over his face while he listened. He set his teeth as he heard her words.