To this hot-bed of traditional conservatism came Patricia as a guest--handsome, disdainful, capricious, city-bred Patricia--armed with all her little wiles and graces, a creature of wonderful resource, to be looked upon from afar, and to be judged and condemned by the narrow code and petty by-laws of the unwritten Blackstone of Hurontown. To the married women she was a dangerous siren; to the girls a triumphant, unapproachable Thetis; to the men a delusion and a snare, so soon as ever she burned them with the blue fire of her eyes, or flashed her smile upon them from the freshest of red lips, revealing the whitest of pearly teeth. In virtue of Philip Tremain's long acknowledged precedence where anything feminine was concerned, all the other young eligibles of Hurontown stood aloof and watched the coming flirtation, half in envy, half in pride; for was not the conquering hero one of their own belongings, and one also who had never known the arts and cajoleries of women, save as portrayed by the demure maidens of their own little town; whose manners and conversation betook largely of the Puritan training bestowed upon them by their mothers? And was not this mocking, fearless young amazon a maiden fresh from that modern Babylon, New York, where, if all the girls were fair, all, too, were more or less false, and like the Lorelei, only ensnared to destroy? Would it not be a proud boast for all future Huronites if this beautiful young witch should be captured by their village Perseus, and so changing the classic rôle be made subservient to his will and pleasure all the days of her life? But Patricia was petulant and capricious, and Patricia was not to be easily won; both of which reasons made Philip pursue her the more eagerly; to him, as to all men, that which is easy of attainment is not to be desired. Whether he was successful or not remained for a long time unknown to the outside world, but before many weeks had gone by Patricia had given over her superior little airs, ceased pursing up her pretty mouth, and become indeed wondrously meek and gentle, as she cast down her proud eyes and hung out the red flag of danger, followed by the white flag of truce; all of which signals signified a total surrender to the enemy. Thus one evening as they drifted idly about in a cockle-shell of a boat on the blue waters of the great lake, she holding the oars, he sitting at her feet, the softly fading pink and amber light in the west casting a rosy hue over her sweet face and fleecy white draperies, he put his hand on hers, and drawing down her not unwilling head, told his love--the old, old story--and gained the assurance of hers.