Yram turned
pale. Hanky roared out, "Tear him in pieces--leave not a single limb on
his body. Take him out and burn him alive." The vergers made a dash for
him--but George's brothers seized them. The crowd seemed for a moment
inclined to do as Hanky bade them, but Yram rose from her place, and held
up her hand as one who claimed attention. She advanced towards George
and my father as unconcernedly as though she were merely walking out of
church, but she still held her hand uplifted. All eyes were turned on
her, as well as on George and my father, and the icy calm of her self-
possession chilled those who were inclined for the moment to take Hanky's
words literally. There was not a trace of fluster in her gait, action,
or words, as she said--
"My friends, this temple, and this day, must not be profaned with blood.
My son will take this poor madman to the prison. Let him be judged and
punished according to law. Make room, that he and my son may pass."
Then, turning to my father, she said, "Go quietly with the Ranger."
Having so spoken, she returned to her seat as unconcernedly as she had
left it.
Hanky for a time continued to foam at the mouth and roar out, "Tear him
to pieces! burn him alive!" but when he saw that there was no further
hope of getting the people to obey him, he collapsed on to a seat in his
pulpit, mopped his bald head, and consoled himself with a great pinch of
a powder which corresponds very closely to our own snuff.
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