Nicholson could not repress a smile at this description of her husband, but there was something more than amusement in his brightening eyes.
"Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael, I knew that would be your answer. But it is my duty to ask the others—to give them their choice. There is little hope for those who remain." He could not bring himself to turn to the cowering figure upon the sofa. There is a shame which is not personal, and he was passionately ashamed for that quivering bulk of fear, for that greedy hope which he felt rather than saw creep up into the livid face. He looked at Lois. Her head was lifted and the fiery enthusiasm which spoke out of every line of the small dark face transformed her from a saddened woman back to the girl who never played a losing game but she won it, point by point, by pluck and daring.
"If I shan't be a bother, I wish to stay with you all," she said with studied simplicity. But her tone was eloquent.
"A brave comrade is always welcome," he answered. "Your husband—" He hesitated, and then concluded in a low voice: "Your husband offered to go with you. He is waiting outside with the horses." He avoided her eyes, but her tone betrayed to him the pain that he had unwillingly caused her.
"Please tell Archie that I will not let him sacrifice himself for me. I know that he will wish to remain, and I, too, wish to remain. We are all English, and who knows how little or how much we are all to blame for this disaster? We must share it together."
Something like a sigh of relief passed Nicholson's compressed lips, but he said nothing. In duty bound, he dared not offer encouragement nor plead for the fulfillment of his hopes. With mixed feelings he turned to Beatrice. Possessed as he now was of all the details of her conduct, he could not but lay at her door the consequences of a frivolous and heartless action. But her pitiless self-denunciation at the meeting, her present quiet and dignity, subdued in him all scorn and anger. Courage saluted courage as their eyes met.
"And you, Miss Cary?"
"Lois has already answered for me," she said. "If there was any justice in this world, I alone should suffer; but one can never suffer alone, it seems. The least I can do is to stand by you all." Her tone revealed all the remorse and suffering of which human nature is capable. It stirred in him a sudden impulsive pity. He crossed the room with outstretched hand.
"You are a brave woman."
She smiled bitterly, but the color rushed to her cheeks.