TheboatwasalmostaslargeasthoseoftheHudson，butitwasnotsolavishlysplendid，thoughithadeverythingthatcouldministertothecomfortandself-respectofthepassengers。Thesewereofallnations，butchieflyAmericans，withsomeFrenchCanadians。Theformergatheredontheforwardpromenade，enjoyingwhatlittleofthelandscapethegrowingnightleftvisible，andthelattermadesocietyaftertheirmannerinthesaloon。Theywereplain-lookingmenandwomen，mostly，andprovincial，itwasevident，totheirinmosthearts；provincialinorigin，provincialbyinheritance，byalltheircircumstances，socialandpolitical。TheirrelationwithFrancewasnotaproudone，butitwasnotlikesubmersionbytheslip-slopofEnglishcolonialloyalty；yettheyseemtobetroubledbynomemoriesoftheirhundredyears’dominionofthelandthattheyrescuedfrom，thewilderness，andthatwaswrestedfromthembywar。Itisastrangefateforanypeoplethustohavebeencutofffromtheparent-country，andabandonedtowhateverdestinytheirconquerorschosetoreserveforthem；andifeachoftheraceworethesadnessandstrangenessofthatfateinhiscountenanceitwouldnotbewonderful。Perhapsitiswonderfulthatnoneofthemshowsanythingofthekind。Intheirdesertiontheyhavemultipliedandprospered；theymayhaveanationalgrief，buttheyhideitwell；andprobablytheyhavenone。
Later，oneofthemappearedtoIsabelinthepersonofthepale，slenderyoungecclesiasticwhohadshownherandBasilthepicturesinthecountrychurch。Shewasconfessingtothepriest，andshewasnotatallsurprisedtofindthathewasBasilinasuitofmedievalarmor。Hehadanimmensecrossonhisshoulder。
“Togetthiscrosstothetopofthemountain，“thoughtIsabel，“wemusthavetwohorses。Basil，“sheadded，aloud，“wemusthavetwohorses！“
“Ten，ifyoulike，mydear，“answeredhisvoice，cheerfully，“thoughI
thinkwe’dbetterrideupintheomnibus。“