'But you said you would advise me!' he answered in surprise.
'I! Oh, no! no!' she cried.
'But you must!' he persisted, more deeply moved than he would show. 'I
want your advice. I want to know how the case looks to another. It is a
simple question. Shall I fight, Julia, or shall I yield to the claim?' 'Fight or yield?' she said, her voice broken by agitation. 'Shall you
fight or yield? You ask me?' 'Yes.' 'Then fight! Fight!' she answered, with surprising emotion: and she rose
again to her feet. And again sat down. 'Fight them to the last, Sir
George!' she cried breathlessly. 'Let the creatures have nothing! Not a
penny! Not an acre!' 'But--if it is a righteous claim?' he said, amazed at her excitement.
'Righteous?' she answered passionately. 'How can a claim be righteous
that takes all that a man has?' He nodded, and studied the road awhile, thinking less of her advice than
of the strange fervour with which she had given it. At the end of a
minute he was surprised to hear her laugh. He felt hurt, and looked up
to learn the reason; and was astounded to find her smiling at him as
lightly and gaily as if nothing had occurred to interrupt her most
whimsical mood; as if the question he had put to her had not been put,
or were a farce, a jest, a mere pastime!
'Sho, Sir George,' she said, 'how silly you must think me to proffer you
advice; and with an air as if the sky were falling? Do you forgive me?' 'I forgive you that,' Sir George answered. But, poor fellow, he winced
under her sudden change of tone.
'That is well,' she said confidently. 'And there again, do you know you
are changed; you would not have said that a week ago. I have most
certainly improved your manners.' Sir George made an effort to answer her in the same strain. 'Well, I
should improve,' he said. 'I come very regularly to school. Do you know
how many days we have sat here, ma belle?' A faint colour tinged her cheek. 'If I do not, that dreadful Mr.
Thomasson does,' she answered. 'I believe he never lets me go out of his
sight. And for what you say about days--what are days, or even weeks,
when it is a question of reforming a rake, Sir George? Who was it you
named to me yesterday,' she continued archly, but with her eyes on the
toe of her shoe which projected from her dress, 'who carried the
gentleman into the country when he had lost I don't know how many
thousand pounds? And kept him there out of harm's way?' 'It was Lady Carlisle,' Sir George answered drily; 'and the gentleman
was her husband.' It was Julia's turn to draw figures in the dust of the roadway, which
she did very industriously; and the two were silent for quite a long
time, while some one's heart bumped as if it would choke her. At
length--'He was not quite ruined, was he?' she said, with elaborate
carelessness; her voice was a little thick--perhaps by reason of
the bumping.