Such was the mind Lady Arpington brought the world’s wisdom to bear upon; deeming it in the end female only in its wildness and obstinacy.  Carinthia’s answers were few, barely varied.  Her repetition of ’my brother’ irritated the great lady, whose argument was directed to make her see that these duties toward her brother were primarily owing to her husband, the man she would reclaim and could guide.  And the Countess of Fleetwood’s position, her duty to society, her dispensing of splendid hospitality, the strengthening of her husband to do his duty to the nation, the saving of him from a fatal step-from Rome; these were considerations for a reasonable woman to weigh before she threw up all to be off on the maddest of adventures.  ‘Inconceivable, my dear child!’ Lady Arpington proceeded until she heard herself as droning.

Carinthia’s unmoved aspect of courteous attention appeared to invoke the prolongation of the sermon it criticized.  It had an air of reversing their positions while she listened to the charge of folly, and incidentally replied.

Her reason for not fearing Roman Catholic encroachments was, she said, her having known good Catholics in the country she came from.  For herself, she should die professing the faith of her father and mother.  Behind her correct demeanour a rustic intelligence was exhibited.  She appreciated her duty to her marriage oath:  ’My husband’s honour is quite safe with me.’  Neither England nor religion, nor woman’s proper devotion to a husband’s temporal and spiritual welfare, had claims rivalling her devotion to her brother.  She could not explain a devotion that instigated her to an insensate course.  It seemed a kind of enthusiasm; and it was coldly spoken; in the tone referring to ‘her husband’s honour.’  Her brother’s enterprise had her approval because ’her mother’s prayer was for him to serve in the English army.’  By running over to take a side in a Spanish squabble? she was asked and answered:  ’He will learn war; my Chillon will show his value; he will come back a tried soldier.’

She counted on his coming back?  She did.

’I cannot take a step forward without counting on success.  We know the chances we are to meet.  My father has written of death.  We do not fear it, so it is nothing to us.  We shall go together; we shall not have to weep for one another.’

The strange young woman’s avoidance of any popular sniffle of the pathetic had a recognized merit.

‘Tell me,’ Lady Arpington said abruptly; ’this maid of yours, who is to marry the secretary, or whatever he was—­you are satisfied with her?’

‘She is my dear servant Madge.’  A cloud opened as Carinthia spoke the name.  ‘She will be a true wife to him.  They will always be my friends!’

Nothing against the earl in that direction, apparently; unless his countess was blest with the density of frigidity.

Society’s emissary sketched its perils for unprotected beautiful woman; an outline of the London quadrille Henrietta danced in; and she glanced at Carinthia and asked:  ‘Have you thought of it?’