His instructor demurred. "She's formidable, if you mean that, and it's right she should be; because somehow in her very person, good maiden lady as she is, she represents the might, she represents the traditions and the exploits of the British army. She represents the expansive property of the English name. I think his family can be trusted to come down on him, but every influence should be set in motion. I want to know what yours is. Can _you_ do anything in the matter?" "I can try a couple of rounds with him," said young Lechmere reflectively. "But he knows a fearful lot. He has the most extraordinary ideas." "Then he has told you some of them--he has taken you into his confidence?" "I've heard him jaw by the yard," smiled the honest youth. "He has told me he despises it." "What _is_ it he despises? I can't make out." The most consecutive of Mr. Coyle's nurslings considered a moment, as if he were conscious of a responsibility. "Why, I think, military glory. He says we take the wrong view of it." "He oughtn't to talk to _you_ that way. It's corrupting the youth of Athens. It's sowing sedition." "Oh, I'm all right!" said young Lechmere. "And he never told me he meant to chuck it. I always thought he meant to see it through, simply because he had to. He'll argue on any side you like. It's a tremendous pity--I'm sure he'd have a big career." "Tell him so, then; plead with him; struggle with him--for God's sake." "I'll do what I can--I'll tell him it's a regular shame." "Yes, strike _that_ note--insist on the disgrace of it." The young man gave Mr. Coyle a more perceptive glance. "I'm sure he wouldn't do anything dishonourable." "Well--it won't look right. He must be made to feel _that_--work it up. Give him a comrade's point of view--that of a brother-in-arms." "That's what I thought we were going to be!" young Lechmere mused romantically, much uplifted by the nature of the mission imposed on him. "He's an awfully good sort." "No one will think so if he backs out!" said Spencer Coyle. "They mustn't say it to _me_!" his pupil rejoined with a flush. Mr. Coyle hesitated a moment, noting his tone and aware that in the perversity of things, though this young man was a born soldier, no excitement would ever attach to _his_ alternatives save perhaps on the part of the nice girl to whom at an early day he was sure to be placidly united. "Do you like him very much--do you believe in him?" Young Lechmere's life in these days was spent in answering terrible questions; but he had never been subjected to so queer an interrogation as this. "Believe in him? Rather!" "Then _save_ him!" The poor boy was puzzled, as if it were forced upon him by this intensity that there was more in such an appeal than could appear on the surface; and he doubtless felt that he was only entering into a complex situation when after another moment, with his hands in his pockets, he replied hopefully but not pompously: "I daresay I can bring him round!" II