f along that awful road?
Certainly not. Perhaps Father Rielle is going that way sooner than
you, Dr. Renaud. Are you not, sir, anxious to--what do you call
it--_chercher_ mademoiselle?" Despite her knowledge of French it was
the way of this lady to address the inhabitants of the countryside in
English, it "accustomed them to it" and, she fervently hoped, tended to
bring about the ultimate "Anglifying of the Province," to borrow a term
much used by that distinguished patriot, Louis Honore Papineau,
previous to 1857.

The priest, who had as yet no intention of returning to the barn,
preferring that others should encounter the uncertain temper of one so
recently tried in uncommon and painful ways, professed much interest in
her plight, remarking, however, that he feared he did not drive well
enough to find his way over the plateau of rock which lay between the
road and the shelter.

"Then there is only Mr. Ringfield left!" exclaimed Mrs. Abercorn, much
as if she were marshalling people in to dinner. "Yes, yes--_you_ shall
go for her, poor thing, but probably she deserves it; living on your
charity, I hear, Mr. Poussette, and the other woman too; shocking, I
call it! And belonging to quite an old family, _quite_ old, I believe."

The idea of Pauline not paying anything towards her board while staying
at Poussette's was painfully new to Ringfield; he had never thought of
the matter, but now recalled her chronic condition of impecuniosity,
and he saw directly how humiliating this must be for her and why it was
necessary that she should find something to do. Henry Clairville, her
natural and proper protector, could not apparently help her, the
Englishman was fully as impotent, and Ringfield at once decided, while
listening to the conversation, to seek her again and offer her a part
of his stipend, the first instalment of which had been paid over by
Poussette that morning. Everything favoured his quiet withdrawal, for
the heat of the fire, the stacks of celery, and the splendid cognac,
smuggled from the islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon, and purchased by
Poussette for twenty cents a bottle, were beginning to tell on both Mr.
Abercorn and the doctor.

"Twenty cents, did you say?" hastily inquired the former, "I never
heard anything like that! I think I must, I really must have a taste,
just a drop, just a sip--thank you, Dr., thank you. My dear--a little
for you too? No? Well, well, after all that exposure I do n