“I perceive, sir,” replied Rody, a little nettled at the running commentary on his speech, “I perceive that there are still one or two dissatisfied people amongst us. Let them step forward, and declare themselves. We want neither renegades or traitors in our midst.”
“That’s so,” the voice replied.
“Again I say, let those displeased with my views step boldly out, and allow me to answer any objections they may raise. I’ve done nothing I am ashamed of. I blush for nothing that I do.”
“No, you’re past blushing!” was the ironical rejoinder.
A suppressed titter ran round the assemblage at these pertinent remarks of the unknown; and the governor’s temper was not improved by observing the effect the words had produced on his hearers.
“I scorn to answer the fellow who is afraid to show himself; but I warn you all to be prepared for a desperate contest. We have only ourselves to look to for our defence. We are in the hands of Providence.”
“We are!”
This sudden change from jeering comment to deep solemnity of utterance on the part of the unknown speaker struck awe into the crowd, and caused Rody to turn pale.
In the hands of Providence!
Yes, for good or evil. For punishment or reward.