'You--do--not--approve--of--Mab!' said Captain Pendle, slowly, and his face became pale with anger. 'I said nothing about the lady,' corrected the bishop, haughtily; 'you will be pleased, sir, to take my words as I speak them. I do not approve of the engagement.' 'On what grounds?' asked George, quietly enough. 'I know nothing about Miss Arden's parents.' 'She is the daughter of Miss Whichello's sister.' 'I am aware of that, but what about her father?' 'Her father!' repeated George, rather perplexed. 'I never inquired about her father; I do not know anything about him.' 'Indeed!' said the bishop, 'it is just as well that you do not.' Captain Pendle looked disturbed. 'Is there anything wrong with him?' he asked nervously. 'I thought he was dead and buried ages ago.' 'I believe he is dead; but from all accounts he was a scoundrel.' 'From whose account, bishop?' 'Mrs Pansey's for one.' 'Father!' cried Gabriel, 'surely you know that Mrs Pansey's gossip is most unreliable.' 'Not in this instance,' replied the bishop, promptly. 'Mrs Pansey told me some twenty-six years ago, when Miss Whichello brought her niece to this city, that the child's father was little better than a gaol-bird.' 'Did she know him?' asked George, sharply. 'That I cannot say, but she assured me that she spoke the truth. I paid no attention to her talk, nor did I question Miss Whichello on the subject. In those days it had no interest for me, but now that I find my son desires to marry the girl, I must refuse my consent until I learn all about her birth and parentage.' 'Miss Whichello will tell us about that!' said George, hopefully. 'Let us trust that Miss Whichello dare tell us.' 'Dare, sir!' cried Captain Pendle, gnawing his moustache. 'I used the word advisedly, George. If what Mrs Pansey asserts is true, Miss Whichello will feel a natural reluctance to confess the truth about Miss Arden's father.' 'Admitting as much,' urged Gabriel, seeing that George kept silent, 'surely you will not visit the sins of the father on the innocent child?' 'It is scriptural law, my son.' 'It is not the law of Christ,' replied the curate. 'Law or no law!' said Captain Pendle, determinedly, 'I shall not give Mab up. Her father may have been a Nero for all I care. I marry his daughter all the same; she is a good, pure, sweet woman.' 'I admit that she is all that,' said the bishop, 'and I do not want you to give her up without due inquiry into the matter of which I speak. But it is my desire that you should return to your regiment until the affair can be sifted.' 'Who should sift it but I?' inquired George, hotly. 'If you place it in my hands all will--I trust--be well, my son. I shall see Miss Whichello and Mrs Pansey and learn the truth.' 'And if the truth be as cruel as you suspect?'