‘No, not proud, but very anxious for its success. The perils of this country are too great for mere sensibilities. He who would extirpate a terrible disease must not fear the knife.’
‘Not if he even kill the patient?’ asked she.
‘That might happen, and would be to be deplored,’ said he, in the same unmoved tone. ‘But might I ask, whence has come all this interest for this cause, and how have you learned so much sympathy with these people?’
‘I read the newspapers,’ said she dryly.
‘You must read those of only one colour, then,’ said he slyly; ‘or perhaps it is the tone of comment you hear about you. Are your sentiments such as you daily listen to from Lord Kilgobbin and his family?’
‘I don’t know that they are. I suspect I’m more of a rebel than he is; but I’ll ask him if you wish it.’
‘On no account, I entreat you. It would compromise me seriously to hear such a discussion even in jest. Remember who I am, mademoiselle, and the office I hold.’
‘Your great frankness, Mr. Walpole, makes me sometimes forget both,’ said she, with well-acted humility.
‘I wish it would do something more,’ said he eagerly. ‘I wish it would inspire a little emulation, and make you deal as openly with me as I long to do with you.’
‘It might embarrass you very much, perhaps.’