‘My brother would not want, if I could give. He may have to sell out of. the army, he thinks, fears; and I must look on. Our mother used to say she had done something for her country in giving a son like Chillon to the British army. Poor mother! Our bright opening days all seem to end in rain. We should turn to Mr. Wythan for a guide.’ ‘He calls you Morgan le Fay christianized.’ ‘What I am!’ Carinthia raised and let fall her head. ‘An example makes dwarfs of us. When Mr. Wythan does penance for temper by descending into his mine and working among his men for a day with the pick, seated, as he showed me down below, that is an example. If I did like that, I should have no firedamp in the breast, and not such a task to forgive, that when I succeed I kill my feelings.’ The entry of Madge and Martha, the nurse-girl, with the overflowing armful of baby, changed their converse into melodious exclamations. ‘Kit Ines has arrived, my lady,’ Madge said. ‘I saw him on the road and stopped a minute.’ Mrs. Wythan studied Carinthia. Her sharp invalid’s ears had caught the name. She beckoned. ‘The man who--the fighting man?’ ‘It will be my child this time,’ said Carinthia; ‘I have no fear for myself.’ She was trembling, though her features were hard for the war her lord had declared, as it seemed. ‘Did he tell you his business here?’ she asked of Madge. ‘He says, to protect you, my lady, since you won’t leave.’ ‘He stays at the castle?’ ‘He is to stay there, he says, as long as the Welsh are out.’ ‘The “Welsh” are misunderstood by Lord Fleetwood,’ Mrs. Wythan said to Carinthia. ‘He should live among them. They will not hurt their lady. Protecting may be his intention; but we will have our baby safe here. Not?’ she appealed. ‘And baby’s mother. How otherwise?’ ‘You read my wishes,’ Carinthia rejoined. ‘The man I do not think a bad man. He has a master. While I am bound to my child I must be restful, and with the man at the castle Martha’s goblins would jump about me day and night. My boy makes a coward of his mother.’ ‘We merely take a precaution, and I have the pleasure of it,’ said her hostess. ‘Give orders to your maid not less than a fortnight. It will rejoice my husband so much.’ As with the warmly hospitable, few were the words. Madge was promised by her mistress plenty of opportunities daily for seeing Kit Ines, and her mouth screwed to one of women’s dimples at a corner. She went off in a cart to fetch boxes, thinking: We are a hunted lot! So she was not mildly disposed for the company of Mr. Kit on her return to the castle. England’s champion light-weight thought it hard that his, coming down to protect the castle against the gibbering heathen Welsh should cause a clearing out, and solitariness for his portion.