"And if you don't marry Maud Maxwell?"
"There's the rub!" exclaimed the Doctor, shrugging his shoulders. "I shall probably stay where I am, for as I said, religion is not so much to a man—I am broad enough to believe that if a man lives up to the best that is in him—an upright and honorable life, and acknowledges the eternal Fatherhood of God with Christ as his Saviour—whether he believes in the Blessed Virgin or not—he is all right. He can follow any creed he likes, from the simple Quaker faith of New England, right up to that of the great Roman Church—the mother of them all."
"I congratulate you on the breadth of your creed, Doctor."
"A man's life is his creed."
"That will be in the doctrines of the future, but it is not now, unfortunately," said Helen.
"Ah, hear the rifles, the target practice has commenced."
"Yes, and it is time my fish were looked after; bon jour, Madam," and he took them off to the cookhouse at the officers' quarters.
In a few minutes Sir George and Captain Cummings came up from the target field, leaving the other officers in charge; and as Helen had not yet returned to her cottage, they joined her.
"And how goes the shooting, gentlemen?" she asked, looking at the Colonel.
"Oh, bravely!" returned Sir George. "Your husband is one of the best shots among the officers. They all take a round at it, you know."