"I suppose I may thank Heaven, sir, that they at least succeeded so far."
Her tone completely puzzled Mr. Sam, who detected the displeasure beneath it, but in all honesty could not decide whether she blamed him or the children.
"A painful business, my lady. The poor man was past his work—a nuisance to himself and to others. These last scenes of our poor mortality— often, as it seems to us (could we be the judges), so unduly protracted—But some steps had to be taken. The ferry was becoming a scandal. I felt called upon to act, and to act firmly. If I may use the expression, your ladyship's feelings in the matter would naturally be those which do honour to your ladyship's sex; they would be, shall I say—er—"
"Why not say 'womanly,' Mr. Rosewarne?"
"Ha, precisely—womanly. I did my best to spare them."
"We will talk of that later. Just now, you will please instruct us how best to release the poor man, and at once. May I remind you that the horses are taking cold?"
"The horses?" Mr. Sam stared from Lady Killiow to Sir George. "Her ladyship doesn't tell me that she was actually proposing to drive to Bodmin?"
"I start within five minutes."
"But it is useless!"
"Useless?"