I have studied for the stage, in fact, and now I
suppose I shall frighten you altogether and make you upset the canoe
when I tell you that I am _on_ the stage."

It only needed some such declaration to convince Ringfield that, still
floating on this silent, desolate lake he was indeed removed from all
his usual convictions, prejudices and preferences. What had he to do
with the stage! To the Methodist of his day the Stage was deliberately
ignored in the study of social conditions. It was too evil to be
redeemed. Its case was hopeless. Then let it alone and let us pretend
it does not exist. This in effect was his actual state of mind.

"I have never been to the theatre," he said simply. "They say that at
some future day we, as Methodists, may have to take up the question of
amusements and consider the theatre seriously. It may be that we shall
have to face other facts--the craving in this age of people, especially
our young people, for greater liberty of thought, and I suppose,
corresponding liberty of action. But so far these questions have not
come very much before me, and I must plead entire ignorance of all
matters connected with the profession to which you belong."

Mademoiselle Clairville's brow was now completely serene; a laugh was
on her lips and a smile in her eyes as she listened to the staid
phrases of her new friend.

"You and your young people!" she cried. "How old are you yourself,
pray? Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty--no, hardly twenty-seven. You
may tell me your age quite frankly, for I will tell you mine. I am
twenty-nine. Do you not think that I look much younger?"

He was in truth a good deal surprised, for to his age--twenty-six, as
she had correctly guessed--twenty-nine seems old for a woman.

Before he could frame a clumsy allusion to her youthful appearance she
had continued with a change of manner:--

"But sometimes I look older, yes, old enough. Tell me, you who preach
your English sermons, so long, so much longer than our Catholic ones,
about trees and rivers and _fish_--do you never preach too about men
and women and their faults and vices and tempers? Ah! there, _Monsieur
le p'tit cure_, you should know that I am a good subject for a sermon,
I and my temper! For I have a temper. Oh, yes, indeed I have."

There being no instinct--at least not as yet developed--of gallantry in
Ringfield's composition, he did not seek to weakly deny her
self-imputed charge. Had he not