'No, I won't, George; I am as calm as you are; I can't help feeling excited. I wished to forget that man and the unhappy life he led me. I did forget him in your love and in the happiness of our children. It was the sight of that student with the scarred face that made me think of him. Why, oh, why did I speak about him to Lucy and Gabriel? Why? Why?' 'You were thoughtless, my dear.' 'I was mad, George, mad; I should have held my tongue, but I didn't. And my poor boy knows the truth. You should have denied it.' 'I could not deny it.' 'Ah! you have not a mother's heart. I would have denied, and lied, and swore its falsity on the Bible sooner than that one of my darlings should have known of it.' 'Amy! Amy! you are out of your mind to speak like this. I deny what is true? I, a priest?--a--' 'You are a man before everything--a man and a father.' 'And a servant of the Most High,' rebuked the bishop, sternly. 'Well, you look on it in a different light to what I do. You suffered; I should not have suffered. I don't suffer now; I am not going back thirty years to make my heart ache.' She paused and clenched her hands. 'Are you sure that he is dead?' she asked harshly. 'Quite sure; dead and buried. There can be no doubt about it this time!' 'Is it necessary that we should marry again?' 'Absolutely necessary,' said the bishop, decisively. 'Then the sooner we get it over the better,' replied Mrs Pendle, petulantly. 'Here'--she wrenched the wedding ring off her finger--'take this! I have no right to wear it. Neither maid, wife, nor widow, what should I do with a ring?' and she began to laugh. 'Stop that, Amy!' cried the bishop, sharply, for he saw that, after all, she was becoming hysterical. 'Put the ring again on your finger, until such time as I can replace it by another. You are Krant's widow, and as his widow I shall marry you next week.' As a drop of cold water let fall into boiling coffee causes the bubbling to subside, so did these few stern words cool down Mrs Pendle's excitement. She overcame her emotion; she replaced the ring on her finger, and again resumed her seat by the bishop. 'My poor dear George,' said she, smoothing his white hair, 'you are not angry with me?' 'Not angry, Amy; but I am rather vexed that you should speak so bitterly.' 'Well, darling, I won't speak bitterly again. Stephen is dead, so do not let us think about him any more. Next week we shall marry again, and all our troubles will be at an end.' 'They will, please God,' said the bishop, solemnly; 'and oh, Amy, dearest, let us thank Him for His great mercy.' 'Do you think He has been merciful?' asked Mrs Pendle, doubtfully, for her religious emotion was not strong enough to blind her to the stubborn fact that their troubles had been undeserved, that they were innocent sinners. 'Most merciful,' murmured the bishop, bowing his head. 'Has He not shown us how to expiate our sin?'