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Bellamy, Edward, 1850-1898

"The Duke of Stockbridge"


"Another such night will kill her, won't it, doctor?"
"I could not answer for the consequences," replied the doctor,
gravely. "I could scarcely hazard giving her laudanum enough to carry
her through such a racket, and without sleep she cannot live another
day."
"What shall we do? What shall we do? Oh, poor Aunty! The brutes! The
brutes! Look at them over there laughing their great horse laughs. I
never liked to see them whipped before, when the constable whipped
them, but oh I shall like to after this. I should like to see them
whipped till the blood ran down," cried the girl, tears of mingled
grief and anger filling her flashing eyes.
"I don't know when you are likely to have the opportunity," said the
doctor, dryly. "At present they have the upper hand in town, and seem
very likely to keep it. We may thank our stars if the idea of whipping
some of us does not occur to them."
"My father fears that they will plunder the store and perhaps murder
us, unless help comes soon."
"There is no help to come," said the doctor. "The militia are all in
the mob."
"But is there nothing we can do? Must we let them murder Aunty before
our eyes?"
"Perhaps," said the doctor, "if your Uncle Jahleel were to go out to
the mob this evening, and entreat them civilly, and beg them to desist
by reason of your aunt's sickness, they would hear to him.


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