“Did they burn any thing except the turf, Mr O’Joscelyn?”

“Wait till I tell you, Mr Armstrong.  I shall never forget that night; we neither of us once lay down; no, not for a moment.  About eight, the children were put to bed; but with their clothes and shoes on, for there was no knowing at what moment and in how sudden a way the poor innocents might be called up.  My daughters behaved admirably; they remained quite quiet in the drawing-room till about eleven, when we had evening worship, and then they retired to rest.  Their mother, however, insisted that they should not take off their petticoats or stockings.  At about one, we went to the hall-door:  it was then bright moonlight—­but the flames of the surrounding turf overpowered the moon.  The whole horizon was one glare of light.”

“But were not the police about, Mr O’Joscelyn?”

“Oh, they were about, to be sure, poor men; but what could they do?  The government now licenses every outrage.”

“But what did the people do?” said Mr Armstrong.

“Wait till I tell you.  They remained up all night; and so did we, you may be sure.  Mary did not rise from her chair once that night without a pistol in her hand.  We heard the sounds of their voices continually, close to the parsonage gate; we could see them in the road, from the windows—­crowds of them—­men, women and children; and still they continued shouting.  The next morning they were a little more quiet, but still the parish was disturbed:  nobody was at work, and men and women stood collected together in the roads.  But as soon as it was dusk, the shoutings and the bonfires began again; and again did I and Mrs O’Joscelyn prepare for a night of anxious watching.  We sat up all Friday night, Mr Armstrong.”

“With the pistols again?”

“Indeed we did; and lucky for us that we did so.  Had they not known that we were prepared, I am convinced the house would have been attacked.  Our daughters sat with us this night, and we were so far used to the state of disturbance, that we were able to have a little supper.”

“You must have wanted that, I think.”

“Indeed we did.  About four in the morning, I dropped asleep on the sofa; but Mary never closed her eyes.”

“Did they come into the garden at all, or near the house?”

“No, they did not.  And I am very thankful they refrained from doing so, for I determined to act promptly, Mr Armstrong, and so was Mary—­that is, Mrs O’Joscelyn.  We were both determined to fire, if we found our premises invaded.  Thank God the miscreants did not come within the gate.”

“You did not suffer much, then, except the anxiety, Mr O’Joscelyn?”

“God was very merciful, and protected us; but who can feel safe, living in such times, and among such a people?  And it all springs from Rome; the scarlet woman is now in her full power, and in her full deformity.  She was smitten down for a while, but has now risen again.  For a while the right foot of truth was on her neck; for a while she lay prostrated before the strength of those, who by God’s grace, had prevailed against her.  But the latter prophecies which had been revealed to us, are now about to be accomplished.  It is well for those who comprehend the signs of the coming time.”