"But I don't think you're a soldier." "Why?" "Where is your sword?" "I'll get that by-and-by." "If I was a soldier I'd sleep with my sword." "Well, you'd find it a mighty uncomfortable bedfellow," I answered, laughing. At which he laughed too, and we were fast becoming friends. "Will you be a soldier?" I went on. "I don't know. What's your name?" "One moment, my young diplomat. Do you never answer a question but by asking another? Surely you're not a Scotchman?" "I don't know." "Well, what do you think you are?" "I think I'm a Methodist." "So you are. But that may be much the same thing, for aught I know. My name's Captain Geraldine. Now tell me yours." "Christopher. Can you sing?" "I can sing, my boy, like a mavis, like a bird-of-paradise. Would you like to taste my quality?" and without more ado I sang to him. "The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh, Nor deep eneugh the sea, Nor braid eneugh this weary warld To part my Love frae me." "I like that," he said, gravely, when I had made an end. "You sing well." "So I have been informed, sir; and I am most sensible of your confirmation of the favourable verdict, which is flattering beyond my poor deserts." But he did not find this at all to his taste, and I was sorry to see my untimely nonsense caused him to shrink somewhat from me, which hurt me to a degree I could not have believed possible. But my embarrassment was relieved by his mother's voice calling us from the foot of the stairs, and hand in hand we went down together. I looked at my hostess with much curiosity, and found her quiet and serene, though the traces of the anxiety of overnight were visible in her pale face and tired eyes. "Good-morning, Mistress Routh." "Good-morning, Captain Geraldine. I see my boy has taken to you; it is a good sign." The words were like balm to me, and I looked at her searchingly to see expected signs of relenting, but I recognised only too clearly it was the kindly civility of an entire stranger, and I felt more strongly than at any moment before that the door of the past was irrevocably closed between us. I sate down at the table, but she remained standing, and folding her hands, repeated a long grace. It was so utterly strange, so utterly foreign to all I had ever known of her, that it deepened the impression tenfold that I belonged to a world apart from hers. In a sense it shocked my feeling of what was proper. Her Protestantism had never been any barrier in our life together, for I have known too many different ways to happiness not to believe there may be more than one to heaven. I have known too many devout Protestants to have a shadow of doubt as to their sincerity; but I have always been a believer in the established order of things, and for a woman to take any part in matters religious, beyond teaching her children their hymns and prayers, was foreign to my experience.