What a contrast was Dunn's expression,--that look so full of gentle pity and forgiveness! Nothing of anger, no resentfulness, disfigured the calm serenity of his pale features. He had a word of recognition--even a smile and a kind inquiry--for some of those who now bashfully tried to screen themselves from notice. The great rush was already over; a visible change had come over that vast multitude who so lately clamored aloud for gold. The very aspect of that calm, unmoved face was a terrible rebuke to their unworthy terror. “It's nigh over, sir,” whispered Hankes to his chief, as he stood with his massive gold watch in the hollow of his hand. “Seven hundred only have been paid out in the last twelve minutes. The battle is finished!” The vociferous cheering without continued unceasingly, and yells for Dunn to come forth and show himself filled the air. “Do you hear them?” asked Lord Glengariff, looking eagerly at Dunn. “Yes, my Lord. It is a very quick reaction. Popular opinion is generally correct in the main; but it is rare to find it reversing its own judgments so suddenly.” “Very dispassionately spoken, sir,” said the old Lord, haughtily; “but what if you had been unprepared for this onslaught to-day,--what if they had succeeded in compelling you to suspend payments?” “Had such been possible, my Lord, 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.”