“You!—and what are you, pray?—a turncoat—a deserter—a trimmer!”—and at that word a yell went up transcending anything that had gone before.
“Trimmer!—trimmer!—traitor!” was bawled and yelled on all sides, and then there arose such a hubbub as cannot be described, a hubbub in which no articulate words could be detected, save oaths of blasphemous import, which made Bride whiten and shiver as no sense of personal peril could do. Eustace better analysed the meaning of those shouts and yells and cries, and turning to the Duke, he said, “I think we must leave the carriage. If we were alone we might sit it out and brave them; but we have a lady with us, and it will not do to provoke them too far. They will stop short, I fully believe, at personal violence, and there is a house just opposite where they are making friendly signals to us, and will give us shelter if we can reach the door. Bride, will you be afraid to face the mob for one minute? They will howl and yell; but they will not molest you—they shall not! Come!—there is no time to lose.”
Indeed there was not. A new sound arose, a sound of more hooting and yelling, as though a new crowd was upon them; and as this fresh noise smote upon the ears of the mob round the carriage, it became mingled with a new war-cry, and Eustace distinguished the shout of “Saul Tresithny!—Saul Tresithny!” mingling with other sounds.
If indeed it were Saul coming upon them, he would be most likely heading the wildest crew in the town. Eustace looked suddenly pale but intensely resolute as he flung open the door of the carriage and sprang out, before the people were prepared for the action.
“You shall have the carriage, men,” he said, “but make way for this lady to pass;” and he gave his hand to Bride, who came out with her simple air of quiet fearless dignity, and stood for a second regarding the surging crowd with such a great compassion in her eyes, that those nearest involuntarily fell back, and not a sound arose from any but the hinder ranks, as the Duke and his daughter passed through the mob and gained the friendly shelter of the humble house which Eustace had recognised as a place where they would find shelter.
Was it the fearless dignified bearing of the old nobleman, or the gentle self-possession of the girl? Eustace wondered, and could not say. All he knew was that for the brief moment of the transit there was comparative silence and tranquillity; and the Duke showed no sign of nervous haste as he paused to direct the coachman and footman to cease ineffectual resistance and to come also within doors.
Then he followed Eustace and Bride with firm and quiet bearing, whilst just as the door closed behind the whole party, the hootings and yells redoubled in fury, mingling freely with the name which seemed to infuse fresh life into the howling mob—the name of Saul Tresithny.
