felt his look, she turned to him and asked a
question that had been for some time in her
mind:

"Where are the poor imported
work-people? In the factory there?"

"Yes! I left them cowered up in a small
room, at the head of a back flight of stairs;
bidding them run all risks, and escape down
there, if they heard any attack made on the
mill-doors. But it is not them—it is me
they want."

"When can the soldiers be here" asked
his mother, in a low but not unsteady voice.

He took out his watch with the same
measured composure with which he did
everything. He made some little calculation:

"Supposing Williams got straight off when
I told him, and had not to dodge about
amongst them—it must be twenty minutes
yet,"

"Twenty minutes!" said his mother, for
the first time showing her terror in the tones
of her voice.

"Shut down the windows instantly,
mother," exclaimed he: " the gates won't bear
such another shock. Shut down that window,
Miss Hale."

Margaret shut down her window, and then
went to assist Mrs. Thornton's trembling
fingers.

From some cause or other, there was a
pause of several minutes in the unseen street.
Mrs. Thornton looked with wild anxiety at
her son's countenance, as if to gain the
interpretation of the sudden stillness from him.
His face was set into rigid lines of
contemptuous defiance; neither hope nor fear
could be read there.

Fanny raised herself up:

"Are they gone?" asked she, in a whisper.

"Gone!" replied he. "Listen!"

She did listen; they all could hear the one
great straining breath; the creak of wood
slowly yielding; the wrench of iron; the
mighty fall of the ponderous gates. Fanny
stood up tottering—made a step or two
towards her mother, and fell forwards into
her arms in a fainting fit. Mrs. Thornton
lifted her up with a strength that was as
much that of the will as of the body, and
carried her away.

"Thank God! " said Mr. Thornton, as he
watched her out. " Had you not better go
upstairs, Miss Hale?"

Margaret's lips formed a "No!"—but he
could not hear her speak, for the tramp of
innumerable steps right under the very wall
of the house, and the fierce growl of low deep
angry voices that had a ferocious murmur of
satisfaction in them, more dreadful than their
bafiled cries not many minutes before.

"Never mind!" said he, thinking to
encourage her. "I am very sorry you should
have been entrapped into all this alarm; but
it cannot last long now; a few minutes more
and the soldiers will be here."

"Oh, God!" cried Margaret, suddenly.

"There is Boucher. I know his face, though
he is livid with rage,—he is fighting to get to
the front—look! look!"

"Who is Boucher?" asked Mr. Thornton
coolly, and coming close to the window to
discover the man in whom Margaret took such
an interest. As soon as they saw Mr. Thorn ton
they set up a yell,—to call it not human is
nothing,—it was as the dæmoniac desire of
some terrible wild beast for the food that is
withheld from his ravening. Even he drew
back for a moment, dismayed at the intensity
of hatred he had provoked.

"Let them yell!" said he. "In five
minutes more—. I only hope my poor
Irishmen are not terrified out of their wits by
such a fiendlike noise. Keep up your courage
for five minutes, Miss Hale."

"Don't be afraid for me," she said hastily.
"But what in five minutes? Can you do
nothing to soothe these poor creatures? It
is awful to see them."

"The soldiers will be here directly, and
that will bring them to reason."

"To reason!" said Margaret, quickly.
"What kind of reason?"

"The only reason that does with men that
make themselves into wild beasts. By
heaven! they've turned to the mill-door!"

"Mr. Thornton,'' said Margaret, shaking
all over with her passion, " go down this
instant, if you are not a coward. Go down,
and face them like a man. Save these poor
strangers whom you have decoyed here.
Speak to your workmen as if they were
human beings. Speak to them kindly. Don't
let the soldiers come in and cut down poor
creatures who are driven mad. I see one
there who is. If you have any courage or
noble quality in you, go out and speak to
them, man to man."

He turned and looked at her while she
spoke. A dark cloud came over his face
while he listened. He set his teeth as he
heard her words.

"I will go. Perhaps I may ask you to
accompany me downstairs, and bar the door
behind me; my mother and sister will need
that protection."

"Oh! Mr. Thornton! I do not know—I
may be wrong—only—"

But he was gone; he was downstairs in
the hall; he had unbarred the front door;—
all she could do was to follow him quickly,
and fasten it behind him, and clamber up the
stairs again with a sick heart and a dizzy
head. Again she took her place by the
farthest window. He was on the steps below;
she saw that by the direction of a thousand
angry eyes; but she could neither see nor
hear anything save the savage satisfaction of
the rolling angry murmur. She threw the
window wide open. Many in the crowd were
mere boys; cruel and thoughtless,—cruel
because they were thoughtless; some were
men, gaunt as wolves, and mad for prey.
She knew how it was; they were like