Gilbert raised himself for a moment, and then fell back.
"I ought to be there," he said, "not here. Those poor people! those poor people! Is there none to help?"
"It seems as if God had forgotten to be gracious," Joyce said, faintly.
"We must not say that, darling, for we know that there is a cause. This may arouse many to think, who have never thought before, of the great needs of the ignorant and uncared-for masses in great cities like Bristol. They know not what they do. Close the curtains again, I cannot look any longer."
He lay back on his pillow, and Joyce, drawing the curtain, resumed her post by the window.
About ten o'clock, the gardener, who kept guard in the hall, came upstairs.
"Mistress," he said, "Mr. Bengough is here, and would like to know how the master is."
Joyce raised her hand to enjoin silence, hoping that Gilbert slept, and went down into the hall.
Mr. Bengough's face was blackened, and his clothes smelt of smoke and fire.
"It is an awful scene," he said, supporting himself against the wall, while Joyce went to fetch him a glass of wine; "the palace is burnt to the ground, and the lead on the cathedral is positively melting with the heat. The deanery escaped by the pluck of the old Dean. He came out and harangued the rioters, saying, 'Wait a bit, let's have three cheers first—one cheer for the king, one cheer for the people, and one for the old Dean!' The mob cheered lustily, and turned off to find other prey. They say Park Street is to follow, and those houses which are doomed are to have a white mark for a sign; but there is no order amongst them, and every one of the chief rioters is drunk with the Bishop's wine, taken from the cellars, which they have sold for a penny a bottle! Now they have set fire to Queen's Square, and the Mansion House is one blazing pile. The Mayor has come up to Berkley Square, where I must follow him. The special constables were separated from him in the crowd, and, can you believe it, Brereton's troops, after parading round Queen's Square, have retired to their quarters. Confusion everywhere, and no one knows what may come next. I must not stay; but, Mrs. Arundel, you may be thankful for the blow on your husband's head, yesterday, which has, perhaps, saved his life. Upon my honour, I don't believe any man outside his own doors to-night can depend upon living to see the morning break."