Sybil, Benjamin Disraeli [books to read for self improvement .txt] 📗

present who had distinguished them in the extreme distance, or rather the cloud of dust which they created; there were dreadful stories of their violence and devastation. It was understood that a body meant to attack Trafford’s works, but, as the narrator added, it was very probable that the greater part would cross the bridge and so on to the moor, where they would hold a meeting.

Sybil would fain have crossed in the boat, but there was no one to assist her. They had escaped, and meant to lose no time in finding a place 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 infinite distress, when a lady driving herself in a pony carriage, with a couple of 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 and Sybil much agitated, pulled up and enquired the cause. One of the men, frequently interrupted by all the women, immediately entered into a narrative of the state of affairs for which the lady was evidently quite unprepared, for her alarm was considerable.

“And this young person will persist in crossing over,” continued the man. “It’s nothing less than madness. I tell her she will meet instant death or worse.”

“It seems to me very rash,” said the lady in a kind tone, and who seemed to recognise her.

“Alas! what am I to do!” exclaimed Sybil. “I left my father at Mr. Trafford’s!”

“Well, we have no time to lose,” said the man, whose companion had now fastened the boat to the bank, and so wishing them good morning, and followed by the whole of his cargo, they went on their way.

But just at this moment a gentleman, mounted on a very knowing little cob, came cantering up, exclaiming, as he reached the pony carriage, “My dear Joan, I am looking after you. I have been in the greatest alarm for you. There are riots on the other side of the river, and I was afraid you might have crossed the bridge.”

Upon this, Lady Joan related to Mr. Mountchesney how she had just become acquainted with the intelligence, and then they conversed together for a moment or so in a whisper: when turning round to Sybil, she said, “I think you had really better come home with us till affairs are a little more quiet.”

“You are most kind,” said Sybil, “but if I could get back to the town through Mowbray Park, I think I might do something for my father!”

“We are going to the castle through the park at this moment,” said the gentleman. “You had better come with us. There you will at least be safe, and perhaps we shall be able to do something for the good people in trouble over the water,” and so saying, nodding to a groom who, advancing, held his cob, the gentleman dismounted, and approaching Sybil with great courtesy, said, “I think we ought all of us to know each other. Lady Joan and myself had once the pleasure of meeting you, I think, at Mr. Trafford’s. It is a long time ago, but,” he added in a subdued tone, “you are not a person to forget.”

Sybil was insensible to Mr. Mountchesney’s gallantry, but alarmed and perplexed, she yielded to the representations of himself and Lady Joan, and got into the phaeton. Turning from the river, they pursued a road which entered after a short progress into the park, Mr. Mountchesney cantering on before them, Harold following. They took their way for about a mile through a richly-wooded demesne, Lady Joan addressing many observations with great kindness to Sybil, and frequently endeavouring, though in vain, to distract her agitated thoughts, till they at length emerged from the more covered parts into extensive lawns, while on a rising ground which they rapidly approached rose Mowbray Castle, a modern castellated building, raised in a style not remarkable for its taste 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 the meantime let us believe the best!” Sybil thanked him with cordiality, and then she entered⁠—Mowbray Castle.

XII

Less than an hour after the arrival of Sybil at Mowbray Castle the scout that Mr. Mountchesney had sent off to gather news returned, and with intelligence of the triumph of Gerard’s eloquence, that all had ended happily, and that the people were dispersing and returning to the town.

Kind as was the reception accorded to Sybil by Lady de Mowbray and her daughter on her arrival, the remembrance of the perilous position of her father had totally disqualified her from responding to their advances. Acquainted with the cause of her anxiety and depression and sympathising with womanly softness with her distress, nothing could be more considerate than their behaviour. It touched Sybil much, and she regretted the harsh thoughts that irresistible circumstances had forced her to cherish respecting persons, who, now that she saw them in their domestic and unaffected hour, had apparently many qualities to conciliate and to charm. When the good news arrived of her father’s safety, and safety achieved in a manner so flattering to a daughter’s pride, it came upon a heart predisposed to warmth and kindness and all her feelings opened. The tears stood in her beautiful eyes, and they were tears not only of tenderness but gratitude. Fortunately Lord de Mowbray was at the moment absent, and as the question of the controverted inheritance was a secret to every member of the family except himself, the name of Gerard excited no invidious sensation in the circle. Sybil was willing to please and to be pleased: every one was captivated by her beauty, her grace, her picturesque expression and sweet simplicity. Lady de Mowbray serenely smiled and frequently when unobserved viewed her through her eyeglass. Lady Joan, much