rian
drives, so I suppose you agreed to the bribe.'

The bishop's grey head drooped on his breast, his eyes sought the
carpet, and he looked like a man overwhelmed with shame. 'Yes,' he
replied, in low tones of pain, 'I had not the courage to face the
consequences. Indeed, what else could I do? I could not have the man
denounce my marriage as a false one, force himself into the presence of
my delicate wife, and tell my children that they are nameless. The shock
would have killed Amy; it would have broken my children's hearts; it
would have shamed me in my high position before the eyes of all England.
I was innocent; I am innocent. Yes, but the fact remained, as it remains
now, that I am not married to Amy, that my children are not entitled to
bear my name. I ask you, Graham--I ask you, what else could I do than
pay the money in the face of such shame and disgrace?'

'There is no need to excuse yourself to me, Pendle. I do not blame you
in the least.'

'But I blame myself--in part,' replied the bishop, sadly. 'As an honest
man I knew that my marriage was illegal; as a priest I was bound to put
away the woman who was not--who is not my wife. But think of the shame
to her, of the disgrace to my innocent children. I could not do it,
Graham, I could not do it. Satan came to me in such a guise that I
yielded to his tempting without a struggle. I agreed to buy Jentham's
silence at his own price; and as I did not wish him to come here again,
lest Amy should see him, I made an appointment to meet him on
Southberry Heath on Sunday night, and there pay him his two hundred
pounds blackmail.'

'Did you speak with him on the spot where his corpse was afterwards
found?' asked Graham, in a low voice, not daring to look at his friend.

'No,' answered the bishop, simply, not suspecting that the doctor hinted
at the murder; 'I met him at the Cross-Roads.'

'You had the money with you, I suppose?'

'I had the money in notes of tens. As I was unwilling to draw so large a
sum from the Beorminster Bank, lest my doing so should provoke comment,
I made a special journey to London and obtained the money there.'

'I think you were over-careful, bishop.'

'Graham, I tell you I was overcome with fear, not so much for myself as
for those dear to me. You know how the most secret things become known
in this city; and I dreaded lest my action should become public
property, and should be connected in some way with Jentham. Why, I even
tore th