e. Even the maid-servants had ceased to
sigh and sob. A feeling something like desperation was stealing over
them.

The dreadful sounds continued increased. They seemed to approach nearer.
It was impossible to distinguish a word, and yet their import was
frightful and ferocious.

"Lord have mercy on us all!" exclaimed the housekeeper unable to
restrain herself. The maids began to cry.

After an absence of about five minutes Mr Mountchesney again hurried
in and leading away Lady de Mowbray, he said, "You haven't a moment to
lose. Follow us!"

There was a general rush, and following Mr Mountchesney they passed
rapidly through several apartments, the fearful noises every moment
increasing, until they reached the library which opened on the terrace.
The windows were broken, the terrace crowded with people, several of the
mob were in the room, even Lady de Mowbray cried out and fell back.

"Come on," said Mr Mountchesney. "The mob have possession of the castle.
It is our only chance."

"But the mob are here," said Lady de Mowbray much terrified.

"I see some Mowbray faces," cried Sybil springing forward, with a
flashing eye and glowing cheek. "Bamford and Samuel Carr: Bamford, if
you be my father's friend, aid us now; and Samuel Carr, I was with your
mother this morning: did she think I should meet her son thus? No,
you shall not enter," said Sybil advancing. They recognised her, they
paused. "I know you, Couchman; you told us once at the Convent that
we might summon you in our need. I summon you now. O, men, men!" she
exclaimed, clasping her hands. "What is this? Are you led away by
strangers to such deeds? Why, I know you all! You came here to aid, I
am sure, and not to harm. Guard these ladies; save them from these
foreigners! There's Butler, he'll go with us, and Godfrey Wells.
Shall it be said you let your neighbours be plundered and assailed
by strangers and never tried to shield them? Now, my good friends, I
entreat, I adjure you, Butler, Wells, Couchman, what would Walter Gerard
say, your friend that you have so often followed, if he saw this?"

"Gerard forever!" shouted Couchman.

"Gerard forever!" exclaimed a hundred voices.

"'Tis his blessed daughter," said others; "'tis Sybil, our angel Sybil."

"Stand by Sybil Gerard."

Sybil had made her way upon the terrace, and had collected around her
a knot of stout followers, who, whatever may have been their original
motive, were now resolved to do her bid