"Now, Mrs. Berry, what about you?" she said. "Captain Nicholson has wasted enough time with you women. You must make up your mind—if you've got one," she concluded, in a smothered undertone.
Mrs. Berry drew herself up from her cowering position. Her teeth were still chattering with terror, but Nicholson saw that the crisis of panic was over. There was a curious look of obstinate resolve on the usually weak and silly face.
"If all the men are remaining, I suppose my husband remains, too?" she asked.
"Yes; he is helping Colonel Carmichael with the defenses."
Wonderful indeed are the volte-faces of which a character is capable! Nicholson, to whom human nature was a book of revelations, watched with a sense almost of awe this mean, petty and brainless woman, who a moment before had been whimpering with fear, smooth out her skirts and arrange her hair as though death were not sitting at her elbow.
"I am sure," she said, in a sharp voice which still trembled, "I can do what Mrs. Cary can do. I shall stay—please tell Percy so, with my love. And I should like to see him if possible before the end."
Nicholson bowed to her, and for the first time in their acquaintance the salute had a genuine significance.
"I am proud to have such countrywomen!" he said, and then added in a low tone as he passed Lois: "The cathedral is nearly finished."
She nodded.
"It could not have been better finished," she said bravely. "And you see I was right—when there is a noble building in the midst of them, people grow ashamed of their mud-huts. They pull them down and begin their own cathedrals—even when it is too late."