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"I am," returned Enderby, hastily looking at his watch; "but I shall come over again, sir, and see what can be done. In the meantime, will you not assist me in some way by speaking to Antoine, who has picked up a little English, or by conferring with the priest?" Ringfield hesitated.
At the same moment he old woman with the dish reappeared and commenced driving the bird before her. "O don't do that!" exclaimed Ringfield, forgetting that probably she knew no English. "The rain is over for a while. Let it have its walk. I've never seen one like it before." The old woman was smiling as if to encourage him, but he saw directly that she did not understand him.
Some new awkwardness led Ringfield over the threshold; the old Archambault woman who had attended the front door threw open another on her left hand, and the next moment he found himself in what must have been once the salon of the family.
Poussette was present at the evening meal, rather pale and subdued and pointing with the pride of a true chef to the omelettes which were his alone to make by special dispensation, and after supper Ringfield walked out to the great Fall, remaining till it was dark and late so late that he knew no one would pass that way. Then he knelt on a slab of rock and lifted up his voice in this wise:
The pleasantry did not apparently disconcert the other, but he looked carefully around as if searching for something before he answered. "To be candid, I followed you here to have a talk with you." "The deuce you did white choker and all! You have a cheek, haven't you? Then you must be pretty flush, after all, even if you have not any expectations, like me, Ringfield.
Where is the fun, or glory, or enjoyment of this muddling and tippling I am ashamed of you! Come on, I say!" But Poussette was hard to move; Crabbe, on the other hand, rose and shuffled out of doors in the direction of the forest; Ringfield thought he saw Madame Poussette's skimp skirts behind a tree; presently she emerged and stood talking to the guide. "Come now, Poussette! There's your wife.
This thought immediately attracted him, and with a sense of its literary value he sought to question Ringfield as to the effect of the Communion wine upon a teetotal community. By this time there was no doubt the minister had suffered a severe chill and the temptation became very strong to try the hot glass that stood in front of him. Crabbe jeered.
The storm now rolled onward, having spent itself in that locality; but knowing from the sound that some place or object had been struck, Ringfield stopped, stepped behind a mass of boulders and juniper bushes and looked back down into the little hollow. The barn was apparently uninjured but the noble pine had suffered.
The priest looked at Lalonde's card and then at Ringfield. "Sinner, or worse," he cried, "I cannot, cannot stay. I must go where my duty calls me and see if I can be of use, see whether a man lives or has been shot down to death. Do nothing till I return; at least do nothing desperate. I will seek you as soon as I may. There will be a way out for you yet; I know a haven, a refuge.
Ringfield closed the gate behind him, lifted his hat and turned back along the road without having ascertained the name of the lady or her condition in life. The service hour arrived, so did the small but enthusiastic congregation. The rain had entirely ceased and the air was perceptibly cooler.
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