’There ‘s no consultation; she determines to go.’

‘We can advise her of all the risks.’

‘She has weighed them, every one.’

’In the event of accidents, the responsibility for having persuaded her would rest on you.’

‘My brother has not persuaded me,’ Carinthia’s belltones intervened.  ’I proposed it.  The persuasion was mine.  It is my happiness to be near him, helping, if I can.’

’Lady Fleetwood, I am entitled to think that your brother yielded to a request urged in ignorance of the nature of the risks a woman runs.’

’My brother does not yield to a request without examining it all round, my lord, and I do not.  I know the risks.  An evil that we should not endure,—­life may go.  There can be no fear for me.’

She spoke plain truth.  The soul of this woman came out in its radiance to subdue him, as her visage sometimes did; and her voice enlarged her words.  She was a warrior woman, Life her sword, Death her target, never to be put to shame, unconquerable.  No such symbolical image smote him, but he had an impression, the prose of it.  As in the scene of the miners’ cottares, her lord could have knelt to her:  and for an unprotesting longer space now.  He choked a sigh, shrugged, and said, in the world’s patient manner with mad people:  ’You have set your mind on it; you see it rose-coloured.  You would not fear, no, but your friends would have good reason to fear.  It’s a menagerie in revolt over there.  It is not really the place for you.  Abandon the thought, I beg.’

‘I shall, if my brother does not go,’ said Carinthia.

Laughter of spite at a remark either silly or slyly defiant was checked in Fleetwood by the horror of the feeling that she had gone, was ankle-deep in bloody mire, captive, prey of a rabble soldiery, meditating the shot or stab of the blessed end out of woman’s half of our human muddle.

He said to Chillon:  ’Pardon me, war is a detestable game.  Women in the thick of it add a touch to the brutal hideousness of the whole thing.’

Chillon said:  ’We are all of that opinion.  Men have to play the game; women serving in hospital make it humaner.’

‘Their hospitals are not safe.’

‘Well!  Safety!’

For safety is nowhere to be had.  But the earl pleaded:  ’At least in our country.’

‘In our country women are safe?’

‘They are, we may say, protected.’

‘Laws and constables are poor protection for them.’

‘The women we name ladies are pretty safe, as a rule.’

‘My sister, then, was the exception.’

After a burning half minute the earl said:  ’I have to hear it from you, Mr. Levellier.  You see me here.’

That was handsomely spoken.  But Lord Fleetwood had been judged and put aside.  His opening of an old case to hint at repentance for brutality annoyed the man who had let him go scathless for a sister’s sake.