Now Mrs. Grey had a few rather strong opinions of her own on the subject of punishment, especially corporal punishment.  She thought it degraded rather than reformed, in most cases; and wherever she herself had seen it tried, it had always signally and fatally failed.  At the utmost, the doubtfulness of the experiment was so great that she felt it ought never to be administered for any but grave moral offenses—­theft, lying, or the like.  Not certainly in such a case as the present—­a childish fault, perhaps only a childish folly, where no moral harm was either done or intended.

“I didn’t mean it!  I didn’t, mother!” cried the boy, incessantly, as he clung to her for protection.  And Christian held him fast.

“Miss Gascoigne, if you will consider a little, I think you will see that Arthur’s punishment had better be of some other sort than flogging.  We will discuss it between ourselves.  Phillis, you can go.”

But Phillis did not offer to stir.

“Nurse, obey my orders,” screamed Miss Gascoigne.  “Take that wicked boy and cane him soundly.”

“Nurse,” said Christian, turning very pale, and speaking in an unusually suppressed voice, “if you lay one finger on my son you quit my service immediately.”

The assumption of authority was so unexpected, so complete, and yet not overstepping one inch the authority which Mrs. Grey really possessed, that both sister-in-law and servant stood petrified, and offered no resistance, until Miss Gascoigne said, quivering with passion.

“This can not go on.  I will know at once my rights in this house, or quit it.  Phillis, knock at the study-door and say I wish to speak to Dr. Grey—­that is, if Mrs. Grey, your mistress, will allow you.”

“Certainly,” said Christian.

And then, drawing Arthur beside her, and sitting down, for she felt shaking in every limb, she waited the event; for it was a struggle which she had long felt must come, and the sooner it came the better.  There are crises when the “peace-at-any-price” doctrine becomes a weakness--more, an absolute wrong.  Much as she would have suffered, and had suffered, so long as all the suffering lay with herself alone, when it came to involve another, she saw her course was clear.  As Arthur stood by her, convulsed with sobs crying at one minute, “Mother, it’s not fair, I meant no harm,” and the next, clenching his little fist with, “If Phillis touches me, I’ll murder Phillis,” she felt that it was no longer a question of pleasantness or ease, or even of saving her husband from pain.  It became a matter or duty—­her duty to act to the best of her conscience and ability toward the children whom Providence had sent to her.  It was no kindness to her husband to allow these to be sacrificed, as, if she did not stand firm, Arthur might be sacrificed for life.