"How so?"

"Why, there are two versions of the story of that marriage. The version Mr. Stanley had been told runs to this effect:--that Lieutenant Kingsland married Lady Isabelle McLane."

"But the register----"

"Says she didn't. I know, I've seen it; but our young friend has not, or had not when he last saw you."

"Then he thought I was referring to Lady Isabelle?"

"Exactly. No names were mentioned, he told me."

"True--but this is most unfortunate! Do you see my position?"

"Believe me, I'm fully informed on the matter, so that I'll not put you to the pain of relating it."

She bowed her silent thanks, and then continued:--

"The fact of this lady's marriage ties my hands. Deeply as she has wronged me, have I any right to ruin her husband's life by her exposure?

If she has reformed----"

"My dear Madame Darcy, pray disabuse your mind of two misconceptions: the lady in question, Miss Fitzgerald, has not reformed, and I doubt if the marriage is legal. There's some trick about it."

"What you've told me leaves me free to act where my own honour is concerned; but I naturally feel a delicacy about interfering in Mr.

Stanley's private affairs."

"Believe me, I fully appreciate your hesitation; but that there may be no misunderstanding between us regarding this important matter, let me tell you something of my friend's present position. I ask you to accept my word for it, that he's not as yet bound himself to Miss Fitzgerald; but his high sense of honour may lead him to do so, if he knows nothing definite against her."

"I see, and you want me to show him these letters?" and she took a little packet from her bosom.

"No, I wouldn't subject you to such a trying ordeal. I ask you to let me show the letters to him. Remember that you've told him that you have them."

"Yes," she said, after a moment's hesitation. "I think you're right. You a.s.sure me that he does not love her, and that there's positive danger that he may marry her from a sense of duty."

"I a.s.sure you that such is the case."

"Then take them," she said, giving him the letters; "but promise me that no one besides yourselves shall see them, and that they shall be safely returned to me by to-morrow."

"I promise," he replied, "and take my a.s.surance that in doing this you've more than repaid him for any services he may have done you."

"You cannot persuade me to believe that; but I'm thankful to help where I'm able, though it be only a little, and I am even more thankful that he has such a strong champion in you."

Kent-Lauriston took her extended hand.

"Thank you," he said heartily. "Stanley's a good fellow; too good and too unsophisticated for the people he's thrown with, and I'm going to save him from himself if I can, both now and in the future."

She looked up at him with a wistful light in her eyes, saying:

"Perhaps you'll be wishing to save him from me--who've already one husband too many."

"I don't know," replied Kent-Lauriston, with an English bluntness, of which he was not often culpable.

She laughed merrily, answering:

"I hope you'll do so, if ever I give you cause."

"Madame," he returned, "what can I do? You've disarmed me, even before the first skirmish."

The feelings of Stanley on looking at the marriage register were difficult to describe. In the first shock of the discovery his brain whirled. The mystery had become a maze, and he felt the imperative need of a solution of the subject to steady his mind. Accordingly, he had that evening a fixed purpose in view, which dominated all matters of the moment; and though at dinner he talked about something, he knew not what, during the greater part of the meal his eyes and thoughts were almost continually on the amiable blundering, little old pastor, whom he had marked out as his prey. When the ladies left the table, and the men adjourned to the smoking-room, he never lost sight of him; but the dominie, as if warned by some instinct, contrived to slip out of the Secretary's grasp, to elude him in corners, and, smiling, vanquish him in every attempt at an interview. At last, however, the opportunity came--a move was made to the drawing-room. In a fatal moment, the parson lingered for one last whiff of his half-smoked and regretfully relinquished cigar, and the Secretary saw, with a sigh of relief, the last coat-tail vanish through the door, which he softly closed.

The click of the latch brought the Reverend Reginald back to the present with an uncomfortable start.

"Oh," he cried, tumbling out of his chair, "I didn't see the others had got away so quickly. Very kind of you to wait for me, I'm sure--very--we must lose no time in joining the ladies, must we, eh?"

"Only a little, a very little time, Mr. Lambert," replied the Secretary, leaning squarely against the closed door, which formed the sole exit from the room. "Just long enough to ask you one question."

"Really, I'm sure," said the little man, becoming fl.u.s.tered. "Another time perhaps-- I should have the greatest pleasure----"

"You have, I know, performed the marriage ceremony in the last few days," began Stanley calmly.

"To be sure--yes, certainly--but this--permit me to suggest, is hardly the place to discuss my parochial duties."

"Of course anyone married from this house would have to be married by you."

"I'm in charge of this living, Mr. Stanley, there is no one else."

"I know that, and also that your nearest colleague--excuse me if I use a professional term--is some distance off."

"Fifteen miles. And now that I've answered all of your questions, let us waste no more time before joining the ladies."

"Excuse me, Mr. Lambert, but I've not as yet asked you a question. I've made a number of statements, and you've furnished me with a good deal of gratuitous information, for which I'm deeply obliged. We now come to the pith of the whole matter, which is simply this. Did you, or did you not, marry Lady Isabelle McLane to Lieutenant Kingsland?"

"What! The lady to whom you're engaged?"

"Could I be engaged to a married woman, Mr. Lambert?"

"My dear sir, you may take my word for it, I did not. I shouldn't think of such a thing. Let me a.s.sure you on the honour of my sacred office, that Lady Isabelle is not, and cannot be married to Lieutenant Kingsland."

"Ah, then Kingsland _is_ married."

The parson caught his breath in his relief at the escape from the dreaded question, which he had supposed was inevitable. He had been too confidential.

"I did not say so, sir," he replied with dignity.

"Quite true, Mr. Lambert, you did not say so," persisted his tormentor, opening the door, "and so I suppose you'd prefer not to have me ask if you married Miss Fitzgerald to Lieutenant Kingsland?"

"I would certainly prefer not to answer that question, and now I must really go upstairs;" and without waiting for further parley, the little man scuttled out of the room.