Under the Mendips Part 39

With a great effort she held out her hand, cold and trembling with fear.

The man took it up, as he would some curious and precious thing, and then, bowing over it, he waited no longer, and the cellar-door closed behind him.

Joyce sank upon one of the straight-backed chairs, and was just becoming unconscious of all outward things, when the latch-key was fitted into the lock, and Gilbert came in.

With a cry of dismay, he closed the door, and hastened to take her in his arms.

"My darling, what is it? What can have happened?"

He carried her, half fainting, into the dining room, and chafed her cold hands, and held some water to her lips.

A great flood of tears relieved her at last, and then clinging to her husband's neck, and still shuddering in every limb, she managed to tell him the story of Bob Priday's visit.

"It is a very grave matter," Gilbert said; "if the man who is guilty of your father's death is in Bristol, he ought to be apprehended and put on his trial."

"He seems to bear us no ill-will now, Gilbert. He is penitent, I think; and he said dear father fell from the horse, and that he did not actually throw the stone at him. Oh! Gilbert, it seems to bring it all back again."

"Dismiss it from your thoughts to-night, my darling, we shall need all our strength and courage. I am sworn in as a special constable. The people show increasingly signs of ill-will against those in authority.

If Wetherall persists in making a public entry into Bristol next week, G.o.d only knows what will be the consequences. No one seems to be able to take active measures. The mayor is kindly and well-intentioned, but he has no strength of purpose, and if once the mob gets the upper hand, and those in authority are frightened, there will be a riot such as Bristol has never known. I think, if things do not look more promising, I must send you to Abbot's Leigh with my mother and the babies, and Charlotte Benson had better go home. There is a house at Abbots Leigh, Benson, my partner, will let me have, and you would be out of harm's way there."

"Oh! Gilbert, surely you do not mean that I am to leave you? I could not--I will not leave you!"

"You will do what I think is best and right, like a brave, good wife.

You would not add to my anxiety, I am sure. I have seen enough in Bristol to-day to feel certain there will be a desperate struggle before the city quiets down. Only imagine that man, Captain Claxton, being so mad as to call a meeting of sailors on board the two s.h.i.+ps now in the harbour, the 'Charles' and the 'Earl of Liverpool,' under pretence of voting a loyal address to the king, but really to get the sailors to form a guard to protect Wetherall when he enters Bristol. Could anything be more likely to enrage the other party? The meeting was broken up and adjourned to the quay, where the anti-reformers pa.s.sed the resolution in a great uproar, protesting loyalty to the king, but declaring they will not be made a cat's paw of by the corporation and paid agents. The notion of protesting this publicly in the face of all the orders of the mayor! They are going to send a deputation to Wetherall to beg him not to persist in coming in next Sat.u.r.day; but I am afraid it will be useless. If anything could have added to my own share in the troubles of the city, it is that Maythorne has chosen this time to come to the hotel in Clifton. He is a mere wreck, and so broken down that he looks like an old man instead of in his prime, but he is as b.u.mptious as ever."

Joyce had roused herself now. The idea of Gilbert's danger was enough to drive away every other anxiety.

She made him take the refreshment which he so greatly needed, and, though pale and exhausted, she felt it almost a relief to busy herself in any way which diverted her mind from the terrible half-hour she had gone through in the hall face to face with Bob Priday.

"Why is Maythorne's coming so vexatious to you?" she asked; "I mean, more vexatious than usual."

"My dear child," Gilbert said, "the very fact of his t.i.tle, and my connection with it, would be enough to ensure brickbats and stones to be hurled at my head if he is seen with me. Let us hope he will keep to the more aristocratic quarters of Clifton, and not come near us."

"I think," Joyce said, when at last they prepared to go upstairs to bed; "I think I should like to hear you give G.o.d thanks for my safety, and that strength was given me not to cry out or scream; but oh! Gilbert, Gilbert, I _was_ so frightened!"

Again he soothed her and comforted her, and then he raised his voice, the manly tones touched with pathos, and thanked G.o.d for His mercy, committing his wife and her little children to His care.

All that week pa.s.sed in dread and apprehension. The popular feeling grew stronger and stronger against the Recorder, as the head and chief, as far as Bristol was concerned, of the anti-reformers.

Efforts were made to postpone the a.s.sizes, or, in the phrase of the day, "Deliver the gaol"; but all their efforts were vain, and the authorities actually despatched a deputation to Lord Melbourne at the Home Office, to beg he would send down a body of soldiers to keep the peace during the Recorder's visit. Lord Melbourne, doubting the expediency of such a movement, tried to get at the opinions of the two members for Bristol.

Mr. Baillie was from home, but Mr. Protheroe said he would be answerable for order, and himself accompany Sir Charles Wetherall, if the military were dispensed with.

The idea of an armed force to protect a judge he considered preposterous, and more likely to inflame the people than anything else.

It was a memorable week to all those who lived in Bristol. And when the morning of Sat.u.r.day, October the twenty-ninth dawned, and the tramp of the civic force was heard on their way to Totterdown to meet the Recorder, many hearts sank within them.

Lord Maythorne had found his way to Great George Street much oftener than his sister, Mrs. Arundel, wished, or Gilbert expected. He took a very lofty standpoint, and vowed that the Recorder was a fine fellow and did what was right, and that he should like to see sacks full of the malcontents thrown into the Float as an easy way of getting rid of them.

Gilbert found silence his safest course with his uncle, and tried to put a restraint on himself when in his presence. He came up from Bristol about four o'clock in the afternoon of this memorable Sat.u.r.day, weary and dispirited, and found, to his dismay, that his uncle was in the drawing-room.

He was lounging on a sofa, holding a skein of silk for Charlotte Benson's embroidery, affecting, at forty, the airs and manners of a young beau, and talking an immense deal of nonsense to poor Charlotte, which she was only too ready to drink in.

Charlotte had begged to remain in Bristol at the early part of the week; and, as the days pa.s.sed on, it became more and more difficult to think of leaving it. The mail coaches and pa.s.senger vans, as well as private carriages, were continually stopped, and the travellers were roughly asked whether they were for Reform, or against it; for the Lords, or ready to cry "_Down with the Lords!_"

In many instances quiet people, who cared very little about politics, and understood less, were seriously frightened, and even injured by the swift hurling of a stone or a brickbat.

As soon as Joyce heard her husband's step, she ran out to the hall.

Susan Priday was also on the look-out, with Joy in her arms.

Gilbert looked worn out, and threw himself into a chair, saying:

"I believe it is all but impossible to avoid a riot now. I wish you and the children and my mother were safe at Abbot's Leigh. Indeed, it is not too late now to get you up to Down Cottage, and----"

[Ill.u.s.tration: High Street, Bristol.]

"I cannot leave you, Gilbert; do not ask me," Joyce said.

"Tell us what has happened in Bristol. We hear the uproar from these windows," his mother said.

"Oh! let them fight it out," said Lord Maythorne, "let them fight it out. They won't touch us."

"I am not so sure of that," said Gilbert, sharply. "I have a suspicion that you, for one, would get rough handling if some of the malcontents caught you."

Lord Maythorne laughed. "I should like to see them try. But tell us the news, pray."

"The news is," said Gilbert, "that the plan of bringing in the Recorder early in the day failed. We marched out about ten o'clock to Totterdown, in the hope of cheating the mob, who did not expect the procession till four o'clock. The yells and hisses of two thousand people were a sufficient proof of this. The sheriff's carriage could scarcely make its way through the ma.s.ses of people, and several stones were hurled at it.

Sir Charles Wetherall reached the Guildhall about twelve o'clock, and the commission was read. It might have pa.s.sed off fairly, had not that stupid though well meaning fellow, Ludlow, began to allude to Reform. It was like a spark to tinder, and there was an instant uproar; amidst it the court adjourned to eight o'clock on Monday morning. Every one means well; but there is no leader for our body of special constables, and some of the paid fellows are worse than useless. The Recorder is now at the Mansion House in Queen's Square, and we were ordered to rest, but not before several of our number were a good deal hurt, and in every encounter the mob had the best of it. They have armed themselves with sticks, and one poor fellow was chased into the Float, and many more must have been hurt."

"Are you hurt, Gilbert?"

"A few bruises, nothing worse; but it is imperative that the children and Susan should go up to Clifton Down. We are too near the city; if the Mansion House is fired, as we hear is likely, the uproar and confusion will reach this house. Charlotte and you, mother, the children and Joyce, must prepare to start at once. Make haste and pack up a few things, and I will see you to a place of safety."

And now swift steps were heard on the stairs, and Falcon came in.

"Father," he said, "I've been watching from the windows, and I can see the crowd, and the shouts get louder."

"You are to go with Susan, Grannie, and cousin Charlotte, at once, to Down Cottage. You will take care of mother, won't you, Falcon?"

"Of course I will," the boy said, "and of the baby, and Susan. Susan does nothing but cry. I wish she would not."

"It is not the time to cry, Falcon. We must all be as brave as we can.

Now, Joyce," he said, "and Charlotte, make haste."

"You are in a desperate hurry," Lord Maythorne exclaimed. "I will look after the ladies with pleasure, and I confess I see no great cause of alarm. You forget, Gilbert, that people have nerves."

For Charlotte began to sob hysterically, and ask 'if they would all be burned up, and if the dreadful people would rush up the hill.'