“No.”

“I’m sorry for that.  I don’t either.  I’m told it’s a fine language.”

“So I believe; but how very awkward it will be not to be able to speak to any person!”

“Well, the Italian is a kind of offshoot of the Latin, and I can scrape together a few Latin words—­enough to make myself understood, I do believe.”

“Can you, really?  How very fortunate!”

“It is somewhat providential, miss, and I hope I may succeed.”

They walked on in silence now for some time.  Ethel was too sad to talk, and Tozer was busily engaged in recalling all the Latin at his command.  After a while he began to grow sociable.

“Might I ask, miss, what persuasion you are?”

“Persuasion?” said Ethel, in surprise.

“Yes, ’m; de-nomination—­religious body, you know.”

“Oh! why, I belong to the Church.”

“Oh! and what church did you say, ’m?”

“The Church of England.”

“H’m.  The ’Piscopalian body.  Well, it’s a high-toned body.”

Ethel gave a faint smile at this whimsical application of a name to her church, and then Tozer returned to the charge.

“Are you a professor?”

“A what?”

“A professor.”

“A professor?” repeated Ethel.  “I don’t think I quite understand you.”

“Well, do you belong to the church?  Are you a member?”

“Oh yes.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  It’s a high and a holy and a happy perrivelege to belong to the church and enjoy the means of grace.  I trust you live up to your perriveleges?”

“Live what?” asked Ethel.

“Live up to your perriveleges,” repeated Tozer—­“attend on all the means of grace—­be often at the assembling of yourself together.”

“The assembling of myself together?  I don’t think I quite get your meaning,” said Ethel.

“Meeting, you know—­church-meeting.”

“Oh yes; I didn’t understand.  Oh yes, I always go to church.”

“That’s right,” said Tozer, with a sigh of relief; “and I suppose, now, you feel an interest in the cause of missions?”

“Missions?  Oh, I don’t know.  The Roman Catholics practice that to some extent, and several of my friends say they feel benefit from a mission once a year; but for my part I have not yet any very decided leanings to Roman Catholicism.”

“Oh, dear me, dear me!” cried Tozer, “that’s not what I mean at all; I mean Protestant missions to the heathen, you know.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Ethel.  “I thought you were referring to something else.”

Tozer was silent now for a few minutes, and then asked her, abruptly,

“What’s your opinion about the Jews?”

“The Jews?” exclaimed Ethel, looking at him in some surprise, and thinking that her companion must be a little insane to carry on such an extraordinary conversation with such very abrupt changes—­“the Jews?”