soul, and we may soon find another."

"If it would make any difference to you,----" he began, still without
any trace of innuendo or latent gallantry, but she interrupted him with
some flashing out of former merriment:--

"How could it, when I am away nearly all the time or try to be? I am
now, like you, considering an offer, and may say adieu to St. Ignace,
the Fall, and Henry, any day. But even if I go, some fascination will
draw me back. It always does."

As he left her at her own gate the face at the window was still
blinking at them. Dimly the ardent young Methodist began to discern
some contingencies in life of which he had never dreamed. And how
admirably he had perjured himself in the interview! Had he not
forgotten the particular sect to which he belonged? Had he not
besought his hearer to forget whether she was Catholic or Protestant?
Had he not, in short, for the first time in his ministerial experience,
fulfilled the plain duty of a true Christian without stopping to think
of ways and means and artifices? Looking back, he was amazed to
remember how earnest he had been and how sudden but genuine was his
sympathy with this lonely woman. Apprehensive for her safety and
content of mind, stimulated as he had never been before by her frank,
original presence, he mentally resolved to remain at St. Ignace for her
sake, or if her protracted absence ensued, as she hoped, to manage to
return when she did.

He had arrived at this decision when, on drawing near Poussette's, he
perceived that individual himself in little straw hat and large white
apron standing at the door engaged in critically examining an enormous
catch of fish--black bass and lunge, just brought in by the guides.
Ringfield asked the time, for he began to realize how long he had been
absent. It was nearly seven o'clock and the evening meal was over.

Poussette at first tried to be angry. He declared that there was
nothing left. Ringfield smiled and strode to the fish lying in
glittering silver heaps on the grass. He lifted up the biggest bass
and carried it into the house, and the coolness of the deed appeased
Poussette.

"That is all right, Mr. Ringfield," said he, slapping him quite
affectionately on the back. "You shall have a good tea, a good tea,
after which you shall hear what we have to say. Mister Desnoyers,
Patrick, myself, all wait for you and all shall be arrange, eh? Every
one round come in, come in and drink _bon sant