Martyn, however, who had been standing in open-mouthed wonder at
such feeling for a doll, exclaimed, 'Don't cry, don't cry. I'll go
and get it for you;' and rushed off to the stable-yard.
This episode had restored Mrs. Fordyce, and while providing some of
our guests with wine, and others with tea, we heard the story, only
interrupted by Martyn's return from a vain search, and Anne's
consequent tears, which, however, were somehow hushed and smothered
by fears of being sent to bed, coupled with his promises to search
every step of the way to-morrow.
It appeared that while the Fordyce family were at dinner, shouts,
howls and yells had startled them. The rabble had surrounded the
Rectory, bawling out abuse of the parsons and their machines, and
occasionally throwing stones. There was no help to be expected; the
only hope was in the strength of the doors and windows, and the
knowledge that personal violence was very uncommon; but those were
terrible moments, and poor Mrs. Fordyce was nearly dead with
suppressed terror when her husband tried haranguing from an upper
window, and was received with execrations and a volley of stones,
while the glass crashed round him.
At that instant the shouts turned to yells of dismay, 'The so'diers!
the so'diers!'
Our party had found everything still and dark in the village, for in
truth the men had hidden themselves.
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