A few of the stoutest-hearted were armed and gathered in a
body on the green. To these, who knew him well, Mr Haredale addressed
himself, briefly narrating what had happened, and beseeching them to aid
in conveying the criminal to London before the dawn of day.
But not a man among them dared to help him by so much as the motion of
a finger. The rioters, in their passage through the village, had
menaced with their fiercest vengeance, any person who should aid in
extinguishing the fire, or render the least assistance to him, or any
Catholic whomsoever. Their threats extended to their lives and all they
possessed. They were assembled for their own protection, and could not
endanger themselves by lending any aid to him. This they told him, not
without hesitation and regret, as they kept aloof in the moonlight and
glanced fearfully at the ghostly rider, who, with his head drooping on
his breast and his hat slouched down upon his brow, neither moved nor
spoke.
Finding it impossible to persuade them, and indeed hardly knowing how
to do so after what they had seen of the fury of the crowd, Mr Haredale
besought them that at least they would leave him free to act for
himself, and would suffer him to take the only chaise and pair of
horses that the place afforded.
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