we would have richly deserved any
reverse that might have befallen us. What is it, Hankes?" cried he, as
that gentleman endeavored to get near him.

"You'll have to show yourself, sir; you must positively address them in
a few words from the balcony."

"I do not think so, Hankes. This is a mere momentary burst of popular
feeling."

"Not at all, sir. Listen to them now; they are shouting madly for you.
To decline the call will be taken as pride. I implore you to come out,
if only for a few minutes."

"I suppose he is right, Dunn," said Lord Glengariff, half doggedly.
"For my own part, I have not the slightest pretension to say how popular
demonstrations--I believe that is the word for them--are to be treated.
Street gatherings, in my day, were called mobs, and dispersed by horse
police; our newer civilization parleys to them and flatters them. I
suppose you understand the requirements of the times we live in."

The clamor outside was now deafening, and by its tone seemed, in some
sort, to justify what Hankes had said, that Dunn's indifference to their
demands would be construed into direct insult.

"Do it at once!" cried Hankes, eagerly, "or it will be too late. A few
words spoken now will save us thirty thousand pounds to-morrow."

This whisper in Dunn's ear decided the question, and, turning to the
Earl, he said, "I believe, my Lord, Mr. Hankes is right; I ought to show
myself."

"Come along, then," said the old Lord, heartily; and he took his arm
with an air that said, "I 'll stand by you throughout."

Scarcely had Dunn entered the drawing-room, than Lady Augusta met him,
her cheek flushed and her eyes flashing. "I am so glad," cried she,
"that you are going to address them. It is a proud moment for you."

When the window opened, and Davenport Dunn appeared on the balcony, the
wild roar of the multitude made the air tremble; for the cry was taken
up by others in remote streets, and came echoing back, again and again.
I have heard that consummate orators--men practised in all the arts of
public speaking--have acknowledged that there is no such severe test,
in the way of audience, as that mixed assemblage called a mob, wherein
every class has its representative, and every gradation its type. Now,
Dunn was not a great public speaker. The few sentences he was obliged
to utter on the occasions of his health being drunk cost him no uncommon
uneasiness; he spoke them, usually, with faltering accents and much
dif