MICH. It was sent to me anonymously. The giver wishes to remain unknown. SIR LYOLF. Yes! Yes! That's what you've told us. But of course you know who it is? MICH. I mustn't speak of it. SIR LYOLF. Forgive me. MICH. Let's say no more. I'm glad you came here to-night. I've been very much perplexed by a confession that has been made to me recently. A priest--you know him, Mark--he is to be present to-morrow--a priest some time ago discovered one of his people in a course of lying and deception, and insisted upon a very severe penalty from the man. And now the priest tells me, that in order to save one very dear to him, he himself has lately been practising exactly the same course of lying and deception. He came to me for advice. I said, "You must pay exactly the same penalty that you demanded from your parishioner." But he objects--he says it will bring disgrace on his family, and disgrace on our cloth. He urged all manner of excuses, but I wouldn't listen to him. He wishes to be present at the dedication service to-morrow. I've refused him. Have I done right? SIR LYOLF. Yes, I should say so. MARK. Was it a just penalty? MICH. Yes, I believe so--the just, the only penalty, in my opinion. Have I done right? MARK. Yes, certainly. MICH. I'm glad you both think that. To-morrow before the dedication service begins, I shall stand where I'm standing now and confess that I have been guilty of deadly sin and deceit. Then I shall go out from this place and never return. (_They come away from him, staring at him in speechless surprise for some moments._) SIR LYOLF. But--Good Heaven!--what have you done? MICH. (_after a long pause_). Guess. SIR LYOLF. But you won't proclaim yourself? MICH. Yes. SIR LYOLF. But your career--your reputation--your opportunities of doing good---- MARK. Have you thought what this will mean to you, to us, to the church? MICH. I have thought of nothing else for many months past. SIR LYOLF. Surely there must be some way to avoid a public declaration. (_MICHAEL shakes his head._) You know I don't speak for myself. My day is nearly done, but you're in the full vigour of life, with a great reputation to sustain and increase. Don't do this--for my sake, for your own sake, for the sake of Heaven, don't do it! MICH. I must. MARK. What are the circumstances? MICH. I can't tell you. I wouldn't have told you so much except that I knew I might trust both of you never to hint or whisper anything against--against any but myself. If you should guess--as most likely you will--the name of my companion in sin, it will never cross your lips? I may ask that of you? SIR LYOLF. You know you may. MARK. Of course we shall say nothing. SIR LYOLF. But--but---- (_Sits down overwhelmed._) MARK. Can't we talk this over further? Have you considered everything?