CHAPTER II.
When tumult lately burst his prison door,
And set plebeian thousands in a roar,
When he usurped authority's just place,
And dared to look his master in the face,
Liberty blushed, and hung her drooping head,
Beheld his progress with the deepest dread,
Blushed that effects like these she should produce,
Worse than the deeds of galley-slaves let loose:
She loses in such scenes her very name,
And fierce licentiousness must bear the blame.
Cowper.
"What can make the dogs bark in this manner?" exclaimed Mrs. Pendarrel to her husband and daughter. "Surely not the thunder."
"I cannot tell what it is, my dear," answered her spouse, who was nearly asleep after his return from Bodmin, in spite of the external uproar. "I wish they and the thunder would both be quiet."
Mildred went behind the curtains of a window. Thick as they were, the flashes of lightning had yet gleamed through them.
"What a tremendous night!" she exclaimed.
"Come from the window, Mildred," said Mrs. Pendarrel; "it is dangerous to stand there."