The conversation touched on many things. When she happened to say that this was her 22first visit to the Boyds’ Canadian house, he replied:
“And mine too.”
“Have you never seen it?” she asked in surprise.
“Never. My father bought this place about ten years ago, and I have been away over thirteen years.”
“I had forgotten you had been away so long.”
With a smile and a slight inclination of his head, he replied:
“That you should know of my existence is a flattering surprise. Any mention of my name, I understand, was a state’s prison offence until my father died.”
“Not quite so bad as that.”
“A man’s fame is not apt to flourish when corked up in a bottle and laid away in a closet, with ‘Poison’ on the label.”
Here was a chance to gratify a natural curiosity, and he seemed willing to throw light on the mystery. She was about to offer the necessary encouragement, when Father Burke took the conversation into less personal fields. It may have been the contagion of this young man’s cheerfulness, or the reaction on the lady’s 23part from an acute religious tension, but the priest had noticed Miss Marshall was awakening to a livelier enjoyment of her surroundings. The spontaneity and freedom of her laughter, on one or two occasions, had caused him a certain uneasiness. Not that Father Burke was averse to merriment. Too much of it, however, for this particular maiden and at this critical period, might cause a divergence from the Holy Roman path along which he now was escorting her. So he gave some interesting facts concerning this summer residence of the Boyds, winding up with the information that the hunting and fishing, all about there, were unusual.