"Of course," said his companion coolly. "What else could it be? At present you men are the gaolers, and we the prisoners in revolt. This girl talked revolution—they all do. 'We women intend to have equal rights with you!—whatever it cost. And when we have got them we shall begin to fashion the world as we want it—and not as you men have kept it till now. Gare à vous! You have enslaved us for ages—you may enslave us a good while yet—but the end is certain. There is a new age coming, and it will be the age of the free woman!'—That was the kind of thing. I daresay it sounds absurd to you—but as she put it—as she looked it—I can tell you, it was fine!"
The small, work-worn hands of the Swedish lady shook on her knee. Her eyes seemed to hold the Englishman at bay. Then she added, in another tone.
"Some people of course walked out, and afterwards there were many complaints from fathers of families that their daughters should have been exposed to such a thing. But it all passed over."
"And the young lady went back to the forest?"
"Yes,—for a time."
"And what became of the black mare?"
"Its mistress gave her to an inn-keeper here when she left. But the first time he went to see the horse in the stable, she trampled on him and he was laid up for weeks."
"Like mistress, like mare?—Excuse the jest! But now, may I know the name of the prophetess?"
"She was a Miss Blanchflower," said the Swedish lady, boggling a little over the name. "Her father had been a governor of one of your colonies."
Winnington started forward in his chair.