"Well," said the Bishop, as I paused—"except what? Except in tempting poor Mr. Penrose away from his vocation, as they say abroad among the Papists. Truly that was no great sin. They talk about arguments for and against the celibacy of the clergy," he added, more to himself than to me. "Truly, I have ever found the meeting and acquaintance of a comely maiden, better than any logic in that matter." "How did you know?" I asked, in utter amazement, forgetting, I am afraid, the respect due to his Lordship. "Oh, a little bird told me. But now I must tell you all, or you will be fancying more than there is. Sit you down, if you have a little time. I should like to talk with you about that and other matters." We sat down together on a rude seat which stood well sheltered by a thicket of holly, and he went on talking as he might have done to his own daughter. "My Lord told me last night that Mr. Penrose was looking for a wife, and Lady Jemima said he had not looked very far, or very high, or some such phrase. Then Mr. Tailor asked my opinion about priests marrying." He paused, and I suppose I looked curious. "And 'what then,' you are looking," he said, with a laugh which it did me good to hear, it was so clear and genial, yet with nothing coarse or rude about it. "Marry then, I told my young friend that if what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander, as our old saw hath it, I thought the dressing that did for the bishop might suit the curate well enough, and that I hoped to see each of them fitted with as good a wife as I had myself. Then—I am betraying no confidence in this matter, sweetheart, for I told Mr. Penrose that I should speak to you about the matter—Mr. Penrose came to me in private, and told me that he had asked you to be his wife, but you had put him off for a year, on account of a promise you had made my Lady. But my Lady was willing to let you off your promise in such a case, and my Lord was also favorable, and he begged my good offices with you. There, you have the whole story." "My Lord," said I, "Mr. Penrose is under some strange mistake. I never said or hinted that I would marry him at the end of the year, or at any other time." "Understand me! He did not say positively that you did so promise," said his Lordship. "He only told me that you had put him off till that time before he should speak again. He told me that you had behaved most honorably with him, with a great deal to your praise, which I need not repeat, and then, with a great deal of humility, he did ask me, if I thought right, to speak with you on the matter. So now I have fulfilled my word in so speaking; and what do you say thereto?" "Only what I have said before, my Lord," I answered, trying to speak calmly. "Mr. Penrose is a good young gentleman, and I know the match to be far above my deserts, but I can never marry him, if he waited ten years instead of one." "But your mind may change in a year," said my Lord.