Under the Mendips: A Tale

by Emma Marshall

These questions were generally shouted at him and followed by cries and cheers, so that the reply could not be heard.

Erect and fearless, Gilbert rode on, clearing the way for the carriage, which contained all that was most precious to him in the world. Had he turned a hair, or shown the slightest sign of fear, it is probable he would have had stones hurled at him, or insulting missives, such as rotten eggs or dead rats, thrown into the carriage. But there was something in the way Gilbert guided his horse through the throng, and in the steadfast outlook of his eyes, that won the mob, and not a finger was raised against him. He even heard cries of "pretty dears!" from behind.

"It's their father, I daresay. Pretty dears! And that's their mother, with the youngest. She is as white as a ghostie."

So on they passed safely over Bristol Bridge, through Wine Street, and Corn Street, narrow thoroughfares, which necessitated at the best of times, but slow progress.

As they passed along Saint Augustine's Back they left the great proportion of the crowd on the other side of the river. It was making, by way of King Street, for Queen's Square, where the great meeting was to assemble before the Mansion House, and the two whig candidates were to harangue the people.

The heat of controversy was fanned continually into a fiercer flame; and moderate men, like Gilbert Arundel, were rare. While desiring any change which might give the people their just rights, and conscious of many abuses which needed reform, Gilbert took up no party cry, nor did he try to exalt his own side by heaping abuse on the other. When the need came, he would be ready to act for the defence of right and order, but he stood aloof, with singular discretion, from the hot-headed politicians of the Union, and thus he was, with many others, innocent of the great outbreak of lawlessness and riot, which, in a few short months, was to disgrace the annals of the city of Bristol.

The great thoroughfare of Park Street was comparatively empty, and Gilbert reined in his horse and rode by the side of the carriage.

"We are nearly home now," he said; "and there you will be safe. Is anything the matter?" he asked, leaning forward to Joyce.

"I will tell you," she said, in a low voice, "but not now." And then the carriage turned into Great George Street, and the children and Joyce and the luggage were deposited there, while Mrs. Falconer and Piers were taken on to Clifton. Mrs. Arundel shared the large town house with her son, but she was away on a visit, and only two servants were in the wide old-fashioned hall to receive the travellers.

The children's spacious nursery was bright and cheerful, commanding a view of the cathedral just below, the tower of St. Mary Redclyffe Church, of the tall masts of the ships, and of the hills beyond. A blazing fire in the old grate, and the rocking chair by the high guard, looked inviting, and Joyce sat down there with little Joy in her arms, while Susan put Lota and Lettice to rest in their cots in the next room, to sleep after the excitement of the morning; and Falcon rushed to the garden to inquire into the condition of the white rabbit, which he had left in its hutch when they went to Fair Acres some three weeks before.