one child bitten. Mr.
Edwards, mount a man for the doctor. I will go in to the child. He was
bitten. Lose not one minute, Mr. Edwards. I see you go.'

He bowed and hastened.

The child's mother was red eyes at her door for ease of her heart to
the lady. Carinthia stepped into the room, where the little creature was
fetching sobs after the spout of screams.

'God in heaven! she can't be going to suck the bite?' Fleetwood cried to
Madge, whose answer was disquieting 'If it's to save life, my mistress
won't stop at anything.'

His heart sprang with a lighted comprehension of Gower Woodseer's
meaning. This girl's fervour opened portals to new views of her
mistress, or opened eyes.

CHAPTER XXXIII. A FRIGHTFUL DEBATE

Pushing through a swarm into the cot, Fleetwood saw Carinthia on a knee
beside a girl's lap, where the stripped child lay. Its mother held a
basin for the dabbing at raw red spots.

A sting of pain touched the memory of its fright, and brought further
screams, then the sobs. Carinthia hummed a Styrian cradle-song as the
wailing lulled.

She glanced up; she said to the earl: 'The bite was deep; it was in the
blood. We may have time. Get me an interpreter. I must ask the mother. I
know not many words.'

'What now?' said he, at the looming of new vexations.

'We have no choice. Has a man gone? Dr. Griffiths would hurry fast.
An hour may be too late. The poison travels: Father advised it:--Fifty
years for one brave minute! This child should be helped to live.'

'We 'll do our best. Why an interpreter?'

'A poker in the fire. The interpreter--whether the mother will bear to
have it done.'

'Burn, do you mean?'

'It should be burnt.'

'Not by you?'

'Quick! Quick!'

'But will you--could you? No, I say!'

'If there is no one else.'

'You forget your own child.'

'He is near the end of his mother.'

'The doctor will soon arrive.'

'The poison travels. It cannot be overtaken unless we start nearly
equal, father said.'

'Work like that wants an experienced hand.'

'A steady one. I would not quake--not tremble.'

'I cannot permit it.'

'Mr. Wythan would know!--he would know!

'Do you hear, Lady Fleetwood--the dog may not be mad!'

'Signs! He ran heavy, he foamed.'

'Foam 's no sign.'

'Go; order to me a speaker of English and Welsh.'

The earl spun round, sensible of the novelty of his being commanded, and
submitting; but no sooner had he turned than he fell into her view