release something in me."

While he was speaking her eyes never left his face. "Go on!" she said,
in a voice of suppressed emotion, "go on. I love to hear you."

Her wonted poise was gone; she was obviously stirred with deep emotion.

"Go on!" she commanded, laying her hand upon his arm. "Don't stop. Tell
me more about--about Canada, about anything," she added impatiently.

A warm, eager light filled her eyes. She was biting her lips to still
their tremor.

"There's plenty to tell about Canada," he said, "but not now. What
started me? Oh, democracy. Yes, it was you that began it. Democracy?
After all, it is worth while that the people who are one day to fill
this wide land should be truly democratic, truly free, and truly great."

Once more the light began to burn in his eyes and in his face.

"Ah, to have a hand in that!"

"And you," she said in a low voice, "you with all that in you, are only
a preacher."

"A missionary," he corrected.

"Well, a missionary. Only a missionary."

Disappointment and scorn were all too evident in her voice.