"Not against any lawful authority, I hope," said Fleda.
"Then there is hope for you, Mr. Carleton, that you will be able to prevent the introduction of mischievous doctrines."
"For shame, Lord Peterborough!" said his wife,--"what atrocious suppositions you are making. I am blushing, I am sure, for your want of discernment."
"Why--yes--" said his lordship, looking at another face whose blushes were more unequivocal,--"it may seem so--there is no appearance of anything untoward, but she is a woman after all. I will try her. Mrs. Carleton, don't you think with my Lady Peterborough that in the present nineteenth century women ought to stand more on that independent footing from which lordly monopoly has excluded them?"
The first name Fleda thought belonged to another person, and her downcast eyelids prevented her seeing to whom it was addressed. It was no matter, for any answer was anticipated.
"The boast of independence is not engrossed by the boldest footing, my lord."
"She has never considered the subject," said Lady Peterborough.
"It is no matter," said his lordship. "I must respectfully beg an answer to my question."
The silence made Fleda look up.
"Don't you think that the rights of the weak ought to be on a perfect equality with those of the strong?"