rt; suppose that he was wronged, not wronging:
then how much more should the Church strive to win him to the light!
Why, man, have you no pride in Holy Church? I am ashamed of you,
Dauphin, with your great intelligence, your wide reading. With our
knowledge of the world we should be broader."

The Seigneur's eyes were turned away, for there was in them at once
humour and a suspicious moisture. Of all men in the world he most
admired the Cure, for his utter truth and nobility; but he could not
help smiling at his enthusiasm--his dear Cure turned evangelist like any
"Methody"!--and at the appeal of the Notary on the ground of knowledge
of the world. He was wise enough to count himself an old fogy, a
provincial, and "a simon-pure habitant," but of the three he only had
any knowledge of life. As men of the world the Cure and the Notary
were sad failures, though they stood for much in Chaudiere. Yet this
detracted nothing from the fine gentlemanliness of the Cure or the
melodramatic courtesy of the Notary.

Amused and touched as the Seigneur had been at the Cure's words, he
turned now and said: "Always on the weaker side, Cure; always hoping the
best from the worst of us."

"I am only following an example at my door--you taught us all charity
and justice," answered M. Loisel, looking meaningly at the Seigneur.
There was silence a little while, for all three were thinking of the
woman of the hut, at the gate of the Seigneur's manor.

On this topic M. Dauphin was not voluble. His original kindness to the
woman had given him many troubled hours at home, for Madame Dauphin had
construed his human sympathy into the dark and carnal desires of
the heart, and his truthful eloquence had made his case the worse. A
miserable sentimentalist, the Notary was likely to be misunderstood
for ever, and one or two indiscretions of his extreme youth had been a
weapon against him through the long years of a blameless married life.

He heaved a sigh of sympathy with the Cure now. "She has not come
back yet?" he said to the Seigneur. "No sign of her. She locked up and
stepped out, so my housekeeper says, about the time--"

"The day of old Margot's funeral," interposed the Notary. "She'd had
a letter that day, a letter she'd been waiting for, and abroad she
went--alas! the flyaway--from bad to worse, I fear--ah me!"

The Seigneur turned sharply on him. "Who told you she had a letter that
day, for which she had been waiting?" he said.

"Mon