cay. To raise this tribe again was his
one idea, his fervent ambition. He had himself been educated by the
French Jesuits, but, when fully informed, had seen the errors of their
faith, and now earnestly desired to found among his people, English
civilization and the Protestant religion. Money was needed; for this he
had consented to come to England, accompanied by about a dozen men and
women of his tribe, hoping that the sight of these poor creatures in all
their native savagery would prevail upon the rich and generous to help
him in his work of education.

What could be more interesting? As a matter of fact, considerable
assemblies did gather, daily, to see the Indians perform their dances,
or sing their songs, or to hear one of them relate their legends, which
Christian translated into musical and fluent English. Bailey explained
his own connection with the party by saying that they required some one
to look after the more practical matters of lodging, food, etc., which
Christian, a stranger in Europe, could not well do, and professed
himself to be a mere hired accessory. It was Christian who was the soul
of all, the hero, who, for a noble purpose, endured a daily
mortification of his legitimate pride. And with Christian, Mary Wynter
fell deeply in love. Everything helped her--nothing hindered. Did no
other girl ever fall in love with a creature as purely of her
imagination? A good many wives, perhaps, know something about it, and a
good many old maids also--who are the better off.

When the visit to London ended, and she went back to the old solitary
life, everything had changed to her. Her days, which had been empty,
were full of dreams, her heart grew tender, glad, hopeful, with a sweet
unreasonable content. Even George seemed less disagreeable to her; she
began to think she had been often ill-tempered, and must try to make
amends. Christian had found means--or Bailey had found them for him--to
make her believe herself as much to him as he was to her. She knew that
the whole party had left London, and were moving from place to place.
By-and-by they would come to Cheshire, and then she would see or hear of
them. Christian had not proposed to her to marry him, nor had she
deliberately considered such a possibility--she loved him, and he would
soon be near her again, that was enough for the present.

In this mood she passed the rest of summer, and the early autumn. Mr.
Wynter and George spent most of the day togethe