It was an exciting scene.

Susanna stood at the window, and gazed eagerly along the street, striving hard to obtain a sight of the seething crowd in the open square.
She could see the tall, haggard form of her Uncle Charles, as she called him.

He was standing upon a little platform that his friends had erected for him in front of the Assembly Rooms, and he was speaking aloud to the surging crowd in accents that rang far through the still air, and even reached the ears of the listeners at the open window.
For once Hannah made no protest when the girl thrust out her head.
She herself seemed to be striving to catch the echoes of the clear, trumpet-like voice.

Her colour came and went in her cheeks; her breast heaved with the emotion which often found vent in those days in a fit of silent weeping.
"Mother dear, do not weep; they shall be avenged! Nobody can listen to Uncle Charles and not be moved.

Hark how they are shouting now--hark! I can see them raising their arms to heaven.