'After spending all her money, the wretch!' put in Miss Whichello,
angrily.

'Bosvile!' continued the bishop, 'had previously made the acquaintance
of my wife, then Amy Lancaster, under the false name of Stephen Krant;
and so far won her love that, thinking him a single man, she consented
to marry him.'

'No, bishop,' contradicted Mrs Pendle, very positively, 'he did not win
my love; he fascinated me with his good looks and charming manners, for
in spite of the scar on his cheek Stephen was very handsome. Some friend
introduced him to my father as a Hungarian exile hiding under the name
of Krant from Austrian vengeance; and my father, enthusiastic on the
subject of patriotism, admitted him to our house. I was then a weak,
foolish girl, and his wicked brilliancy drew me towards him. When he
learned that I had money of my own he proposed to marry me. My father
objected, but I was infatuated by Stephen's arts, and became his wife in
October 1870.'

'Quite so, my love,' assented her husband, mildly; 'as an inexperienced
girl you were at the mercy of that Belial. You were married as you say
in October 1870; here, to prove that statement, is the certificate,' and
the bishop passed it to Baltic. 'But at the time of such marriage Mrs
Bosvile was still alive. Miss Whichello can vouch for this important
fact!'

'Ah! that I can,' sighed the little old lady, shaking her head. 'My poor
darling sister did not die until January 1871, and I was present to
close her weary--weary eyes. Is not that the certificate of her death
you are holding?'

'Yes,' answered the bishop, simply, and gave the paper into her
outstretched hand. 'You can now understand, my friends,' he continued,
addressing the company generally, 'that as Mrs Bosvile was alive in
October 1870, the marriage which her husband then contracted with Miss
Lancaster was a false one.'

'That is clear enough,' murmured the attentive Baltic, nodding.

'It thus appears,' resumed the bishop, concisely, 'that when I
married--as I thought--Amy Krant, a widow, in September 1871, I really
and truly wedded Amy Lancaster, a spinster. Therefore this lady'--and
here the bishop clasped tenderly the hand of Mrs Pendle--'is my true,
dear wife, and has been legally so these many years, notwithstanding
Bosvile's infamous assertion to the contrary.'

'Thank God! thank God!' cried Mrs Pendle, with joyful tears. 'Gabriel,
my darling boy!' and she stretched out her disengaged hand to cares