estroyed, but Clairville and Clairville
Manor went untouched. For this, the peculiar situation of the house,
so far back from the Fall, its existence almost undreamt of by English
soldiery, ignorant of the country, was, of course, responsible. A
Clairville went to France at the close of the Revolution, made himself
useful and remained in some post under the Government. Another went up
to Quebec, became a sound lawyer, and batonnier of his district. Both
of these individuals, however, died unmarried, and the next owner of
the manor neither distinguished himself nor contributed to the glory of
his line. That glory, such as it was, for the ignoble Francois was the
founder of it, gradually departed. The Clairvilles deteriorated, sold
off large parcels of their land, married undesirable persons, till, in
the present generation, the culmination of domestic ruin seemed
probable. For the Clairville now inhabiting the manor was not only
reduced in purse and delicate in health but suspiciously weak in
intellect.

When Ringfield woke on the Monday following his inaugural service, the
sun was shining brightly into his room at Poussette's, and it is a fact
that in his mind he saw a picture of a dazzling fan of foamy white
feathers waving proudly in that sunlight. It really was the bird and
not the lady that intercepted other and more pertinent reflections
having to do with his future movements. He loitered about all morning,
fished, lunched with his guide, made a pencil sketch of the Fall, and
then about three o'clock in the afternoon walked out to Lac Calvaire.
He neared the house; at first he saw no one, it was the middle-day
siesta. No peacock was visible, no lady. Then he saw a face at a
window and it stared at him. Ringfield, taken by surprise, returned
the stare. To the stare succeeded a weak smile, then a beckoning
finger, then an insistent tapping. The window was closed, with a
roughly crocheted curtain half-drawn back on a string. The young man
had no cause to hesitate, for he knew nothing of what lay inside the
house. He was also a clergyman, which means much. It means, if you
rightly understand your office, that you must be always ready to go
anywhere, to do anything, that may be of the smallest benefit to your
fellow-man. It means, that because of that high office, there is
nothing really beneath your attention, too insignificant for your
study, and yet you are so far above the rest of mankind, the mere