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."

"Doctor! Doctor! you don't know my uncle," cried Desire. "He would
sooner have Aunt Lucy die, and die himself, and have us all killed,
than stoop to ask a favor of the rabble."

"I suppose it would be hard for him," said the doctor, "and yet to
save your aunt's life maybe--"

"Oh I couldn't bear to have him do it," interrupted Desire. "Poor
Uncle! I'd rather go out to the mob myself than have Uncle Jahleel. It
would kill him. He is so proud."

The doctor walked across the room two or three times with knitted brow
and then paused and looked with a certain critical admiration at the
face of the girl to which excitement had lent an unusual brilliance.

"I will tell you," he said, "the only way I see of securing a quiet
night to your aunt. Just go yourself and see this Hamlin who is the
captain of the mob, and make your petition to him. I had words with
him this morning. He is a well seeming fellow enough, and has a bold
way of speech that liked me well i' faith, though no doubt he's a
great rascal and well deserves a hanging."