When the news had arrived in the morning at Mowbray, that the messengersof the Bishop had met with a somewhat queer reception at the Mowedaleworks, Gerard prescient that some trouble might in consequence occurthere, determined to repair at once to the residence of his lateemployer. It so happened that Monday was the day on which the cottagesup the dale and on the other side of the river were visited by an envoyof Ursula Trafford, and it was the office of Sybil this morning tofulfil the duties of that mission of charity. She had mentioned this toher father on the previous day, and as in consequence of the strike, hewas no longer occupied, he had proposed to accompany his daughter onthe morrow. Together therefore they had walked until they arrived atthe bridge, it being then about two hours to noon, a little abovetheir former residence. Here they were to separate. Gerard embraced hisdaughter with even more than usual tenderness; and as Sybil crossedthe bridge, she looked round at her father, and her glance caught his,turned for the same fond purpose.
Sybil was not alone; Harold, who had ceased to gambol, but who hadgained in stature, majesty and weight what he had lost of lithe andfrolick grace, was by her side. He no longer danced before his mistress,coursed away and then returned, or vented his exuberant life in athousand feats of playful vigour; but sedate and observant, he wasalways at hand, ever sagacious, and seemed to watch her every glance.
The day was beautiful, the scene was fair, the spot indeed was one whichrendered the performance of gracious offices to Sybil doubly sweet. Sheever begged of the Lady Superior that she might be her minister to thecottages up Dale. They were full of familiar faces. It was a regionendeared to Sybil by many memories of content and tenderness. And as shemoved along to-day her heart was light, and the natural joyousnessof her disposition, which so many adverse circumstances had tended torepress, was visible in her sunny face. She was happy about her father.The invasion of the miners, instead of prompting him as she had fearedto some rash conduct, appeared to have filled him only with disgust.Even now he was occupied in a pursuit of order and peace, counsellingprudence and protecting the benevolent.
She passed through a copse which skirted those woods of Mowbray whereinshe had once so often rambled with one whose image now hovered over herspirit. Ah! what scenes and changes, dazzling and dark, had occurredsince the careless though thoughtful days of her early girlhood! Sybilmused: she recalled the moonlit hour when Mr Franklin first paid a visitto their cottage, their walks and wanderings, the expeditions which sheplanned and the explanations which she so artlessly gave him. Her memorywandered to their meeting in Westminster, and all the scenes of sorrowand of softness of which it was the herald. Her imagination raisedbefore her in colours of light and life the morning, the terriblemorning when he came to her desperate rescue; his voice sounded in herear; her cheek glowed as she recalled their tender farewell.
It was past noon: Sybil had reached the term of her expedition, hadvisited her last charge; she was emerging from the hills into the opencountry, and about to regain the river road that would in time haveconducted her to the bridge. On one side of her was the moor, on theother a wood that was the boundary of Mowbray Park. And now a numberof women met her, some of whom she recognised, and had indeed visitedearlier in the morning. Their movements were disordered, distress andpanic were expressed on their countenances. Sybil stopped, she spoketo some, the rest gathered around her. The Hell-cats were coming,they said; they were on the other side of the river, burning mills,destroying all they could put their hands on, man, woman and child.
Sybil, alarmed for her father, put to them some questions, to which theygave incoherent answers. It was however clear that they had seen no one,and knew nothing of their own experience. The rumour had reached themthat the mob was advancing up Dale, those who had apprised them had,according to their statement, absolutely witnessed the approach of themultitude, and so they had locked up their cottages, crossed the bridge,and ran away to the woods and moor. Under these circumstances, deemingthat there might be much exaggeration, Sybil at length resolved toadvance, and in a few minutes those whom she had encountered were outof sight. She patted Harold, who looked up in her face and gave abark, significant of his approbation of her proceeding, and also of hisconsciousness that something strange was going on. She had not proceededvery far before two men on horseback, at full gallop, met her. Theypulled up directly they observed her, and said, "You had better go backas fast as you can: the mob is out, and coming up Dale in great force."
Sybil enquired, with much agitation, whether they had themselves seenthe people, and they replied that they had not, but that advices hadbeen received from Mowbray of their approach, and as for themselves theywere hurrying at their utmost speed to a town ten miles off, wherethey understood some yeomanry were stationed, and to whom the Mayorof Mowbray had last night sent a despatch: Sybil would have enquiredwhether there were time for her to reach the bridge and join her fatherat the factory of Trafford, but the horsemen were impatient and rodeoff. Still she determined to proceed. All that she now aimed at was toreach Gerard and share his fate.
A boat put across the river; two men and a crowd of women. The mob hadbeen seen; at least there was positively one person present who haddistinguished them in the extreme distance, or rather the cloud of dustwhich they created; there were dreadful stories of their violence anddevastation. It was understood that a body meant to attack Trafford'sworks, but, as the narrator added, it was very probable that the greaterpart would cross the bridge and so on to the Moor, where they would holda meeting.
Sybil would fain have crossed in the boat, but there was no one toassist her. They had escaped, and meant to lose no time in finding aplace of refuge for the moment. They were sure if they recrossed now,they must meet the mob. They were about to leave her, Sybil in infinitedistress, when a lady driving herself in a pony carriage, with a coupleof grooms behind her mounted also on ponies of the same form and colour,came up from the direction of the Moor, and observing the group andSybil much agitated, pulled up and enquired the cause. One of the men,frequently interrupted by all the women, immediately entered into anarrative of the state of affairs for which the lady was evidently quiteunprepared, for her alarm was considerable.
"And this young person will persist in crossing over," continued theman. "It's nothing less than madness. I tell her she will meet instantdeath or worse."
"It seems to me very rash," said the lady in a kind tone, and who seemedto recognise her.
"Alas! what am I to do!" exclaimed Sybil. "I left my father at MrTrafford's!"
"Well, we have no time to lose," said the man, whose companion had nowfastened the boat to the bank, and so wishing them good morning, andfollowed by the whole of his cargo, they went on their way.
But just at this moment a gentleman, mounted on a very knowing littlecob, came cantering up, exclaiming, as he reached the pony carriage, "Mydear Joan, I am looking after you. I have been in the greatest alarm foryou. There are riots on the other side of the river, and I was afraidyou might have crossed the bridge."
Upon this, Lady Joan related to Mr Mountchesney how she had just becomeacquainted with the intelligence, and then they conversed together fora moment or so in a whisper: when turning round to Sybil, she said, "Ithink you had really better come home with us till affairs are a littlemore quiet."
"You are most kind," said Sybil, "but if I could get back to the townthrough Mowbray Park, I think I might do something for my father!"
"We are going to the Castle through the park at this moment," said thegentleman. "You had better come with us. There you will at least besafe, and perhaps we shall be able to do something for the good peoplein trouble over the water," and so saying, nodding to a groom who,advancing, held his cob, the gentleman dismounted, and approaching Sybilwith great courtesy, said, "I think we ought all of us to know eachother. Lady Joan and myself had once the pleasure of meeting you, Ithink, at Mr Trafford's. It is a long time ago, but," he added in asubdued tone, "you are not a person to forget."
Sybil wa
s insensible to Mr Mountchesney's gallantry, but alarmed andperplexed, she yielded to the representations of himself and Lady Joan,and got into the phaeton. Turning from the river, they pursued a roadwhich entered after a short progress into the park, Mr Mountchesneycantering on before them, Harold following. They took their way forabout a mile through a richly-wooded demesne, Lady Joan addressing manyobservations with great kindness to Sybil, and frequently endeavouring,though in vain, to distract her agitated thoughts, till they at lengthemerged from the more covered parts into extensive lawns, while ona rising ground which they rapidly approached rose Mowbray Castle, amodern castellated building, raised in a style not remarkable for itstaste or correctness, but vast, grand, and imposing.
"And now," said Mr Mountchesney, riding up to them and addressing Sybil,"I will send off a scout immediately for news of your father. In themean time let us believe the best!" Sybil thanked him with cordiality,and then she entered--Mowbray Castle.
Book 6 Chapter 12