One moment of horror, and it had vanished!
The next, Genevieve's voice was heard crying, 'Bring me something
more to press on it.' She had contrived to cross its path with her
large carriage rug, and was kneeling over it, forcing down the rug to
smother the flames. Mr. Hope brought her a shawl, and they all stood
round in silent awe.
'The poor child will be stifled,' said Albinia, kneeling down to help
to unfold its face.
Poor little face, distorted with terror and agony! One of the
policemen recognised it as the child of the public-house in Tibb's
Alley. There were moans, but no one dared to uncover the limbs; and
the policeman and Mr. Hope proposed carrying it at once to Mr.
Bowles, and then home. Mr. Kendal desired that it should be laid on
the seat of the carriage, which he would drive gently to the
doctor's. Genevieve got in to watch over the poor little boy, and
the others walked on by the side, passed the battle-field, now
entirely deserted, too much shocked for aught but conjectures on his
injuries, and the cause of the misfortune. Either he must have been
pushed in on the fire by the runaway rabble, or have trod upon some
of the scattered combustibles.
Mr. Bowles desired that the child should be taken home at once,
promising to follow instantly; so at the entrance of Tibb's Alley,
the carriage stopped, and Mr. Hope lifted out the poor little wailing
bundle. Albinia was following, but a decided prohibition from her
husband checked her.
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