e
man had rebuked him for his baseness, and had given him to understand
that the bishop was fully aware of the contemptible part which he had
acted. Deserted by his former ally, ignorant of Dr Pendle's secret,
convinced of Mosk's guilt, the chaplain was in anything but a pleasant
position. He was reaping what he had so industriously sown; he was
caught in his own snare, and saw no way of defending his conduct. In a
word, he was ruined, and now stood before his injured superior with pale
face and hanging head, ready to be blamed and sentenced without uttering
one word on his own behalf. Nor, had he possessed the insolence to do
so, could he have thought of that one necessary word.

'Michael,' said the bishop, mildly, 'I have been informed by Mr Baltic
that you accused me of a terrible crime. May I ask on what grounds you
did so?'

Cargrim made no reply, but, flushing and paling alternately, looked
shamefaced at the carpet.

'I must answer myself, I see,' continued Dr Pendle, after a short
silence; 'you thought that because I met Jentham on the heath to pay him
some money I murdered him in the viciousness of my heart. Why should you
think so ill of me, my poor boy? Have I not stood in the place of your
father? Have I not treated you as my own son? You know that I have. And
my reward is, that these many weeks you have been secretly trying to
ruin me. Even had I been guilty,' cried the bishop, raising his voice,
'it was not your place to proclaim the shame of one who has cherished
you. If you had such wicked thoughts in your heart, why did you not come
boldly before me and accuse me to my face? I should then have known how
to answer you. I can forgive malice--yes, even malice--but not deceit.
Did you never think of my delicate wife, of my innocent family, when
plotting and scheming my ruin with a smiling face? Alas! alas! Michael,
how could you act in a way so unworthy of a Christian, of a gentleman?'

'What is the use of crying over spilt milk?' said Cargrim, doggedly.
'You have the advantage now and can do what you will.'

'What do you mean by talking like that?' said the bishop, sternly. 'Have
the advantage now indeed; I never lost the advantage, sir, so far as you
are concerned. I did not murder that wretched man, for you know that
Mosk confessed how he shot him for the sake of the money I gave him. I
knew of Jentham in other days, under another name, and when he asked me
for money I gave it to him. My reason for d