"Well, then, those whom God and the whole Church have in holy sacrament united, what right hath a single priest to disunite in heart, and make the wife false to any part whatever of that most holy vow? I hear, and not from you, that Leonard did set you against your husband's friends, withdrew you from society, and sent him abroad alone. In one word, he robbed your husband of his companion and his friend. The sin was Leonard's; but the fault was yours. You were five years older than Leonard, and a woman of sense and experience; he but a boy by comparison. What right had you to surrender your understanding, in a matter of this kind, to a poor silly priest, fresh from his seminary, and as manifestly without a grain of common sense as he was full of piety?" This remonstrance produced rather a striking effect on both those who heard it. Mrs. Gaunt seemed much struck with it. She leaned back in her chair, and put her hand to her brow with a sort of despairing gesture that Griffith could not very well understand, it seemed to him so disproportionate. It softened him, however, and he faltered out, "Ay, father, that is how it all began. Would to heaven it had stopped there." Francis resumed. "This false step led to consequences you never dreamed of; for one of your romantic notions is, that a priest is an angel. I have known you, in former times, try to take me for an angel: then would I throw cold water on your folly by calling lustily for chines of beef and mugs of ale. But I suppose Leonard thought himself an angel too; and the upshot was, he fell in love with his neighbor's wife." "And she with him," groaned Griffith. "Not so," said Francis; "but perhaps she was nearer it than she thinks." "Prove that," said Mrs. Gaunt, "and I'll fall on my knees to him before you." Francis smiled, and proceeded. "To be sure, from the moment you discovered Leonard was in love with you, you drew back, and conducted yourself with prudence and propriety. Read these letters, sir, and tell me what you think of them." He handed them to Griffith. Griffith's hand trembled visibly as he took them. "Stay," said Father Francis; "your better way will be to read the whole correspondence according to the dates. Begin with this of Mrs. Gaunt's." Griffith read the letter in an audible whisper. Mrs. Gaunt listened with all her ears. "DEAR FATHER AND FRIEND,--The words you spoke to me to-day admit but one meaning; you are jealous of my husband. "Then you must be--how can I write it?--almost in love with me. "So then my poor husband was wiser than I. He saw a rival in you: and he has one.