Mr. Thornton came frankly forwards: 'I'm sorry, Miss Hale, you have visited us at this unfortunate
moment, when, I fear, you may be involved in whatever risk we
have to bear. Mother! hadn't you better go into the back rooms?
I'm not sure whether they may not have made their way from
Pinner's Lane into the stable-yard; but if not, you will be safer
there than here. Go Jane!' continued he, addressing the
upper-servant. And she went, followed by the others.
'I stop here!' said his mother. 'Where you are, there I stay.'
And indeed, retreat into the back rooms was of no avail; the
crowd had surrounded the outbuildings at the rear, and were
sending forth their awful threatening roar behind. The servants
retreated into the garrets, with many a cry and shriek. Mr.
Thornton smiled scornfully as he heard them. He glanced at
Margaret, standing all by herself at the window nearest the
factory. Her eyes glittered, her colour was deepened on cheek and
lip. As if she felt his look, she turned to him and asked a
question that had been for some time in her mind: 'Where are the poor imported work-people? In the factory there?' 'Yes! I left them cowered up in a small room, at the head of a
back flight of stairs; bidding them run all risks, and escape
down there, if they heard any attack made on the mill-doors. But
it is not them--it is me they want.' 'When can the soldiers be here?' asked his mother, in a low but
not unsteady voice.
He took out his watch with the same measured composure with which
he did everything. He made some little calculation: 'Supposing Williams got straight off when I told him, and hadn't
to dodge about amongst them--it must be twenty minutes yet.' 'Twenty minutes!' said his mother, for the first time showing her
terror in the tones of her voice.
'Shut down the windows instantly, mother,' exclaimed he: 'the
gates won't bear such another shock. Shut down that window, Miss
Hale.' Margaret shut down her window, and then went to assist Mrs.
Thornton's trembling fingers.
From some cause or other, there was a pause of several minutes in
the unseen street. Mrs. Thornton looked with wild anxiety at her
son's countenance, as if to gain the interpretation of the sudden
stillness from him. His face was set into rigid lines of
contemptuous defiance; neither hope nor fear could be read there.
Fanny raised herself up: 'Are they gone?' asked she, in a whisper.
'Gone!' replied he. 'Listen!' She did listen; they all could hear the one great straining
breath; the creak of wood slowly yielding; the wrench of iron;
the mighty fall of the ponderous gates. Fanny stood up
tottering--made a step or two towards her mother, and fell
forwards into her arms in a fainting fit. Mrs. Thornton lifted
her up with a strength that was as much that of the will as of
the body, and carried her away.