her.

"She is very young, Herbert," said Frank in a low voice.

"She is eighteen," I answered.

"She is exquisitely beautiful. I cannot wonder at you even if I could
have the heart to condemn you. But, is not that a wedding-ring on her
finger?"

"It is," I answered, looking at him.

He looked hard at me in return and exclaimed, "A mere provision against
public curiosity, I presume? For surely you are not married?"

"I am not so sure of that," I answered; "but my story is not yet
ended," and I then told him of the marriage service which had been
performed by Captain Parsons on board the ship, _Carthusian_.

"Tut!" cried he, with a decided churchman-like shake of the head when I
had made an end, "that's no marriage, man."

"I believe it is then," said I, "though, of course, until _you_ unite
us we do not consider ourselves man and wife."

"I should think not," he exclaimed with vehemence. "What! a plain
master of a ship empowered to solemnise holy matrimony? Certainly not.
No churchman would hear of such a thing."

"Ay, but it's not for the Church, it's the affair of the law. If the
law says it's all right the Church is bound to regard it as right."

"Certainly _not_," he cried, and was proceeding, but I interrupted him
by repeating that we had consented to be married by Captain Parsons in
the forlorn hope that the contract might be binding.

"But without banns?--without licence?--without the consent of the young
lady's guardians? No! no!" he cried, "you are not married. But it is
highly desirable," he added, with a look at Grace, "that you should get
married without delay. And so what do you propose to do?

"Well, time may be saved by your publishing the banns at once, Frank."

"Yes, but you must first obtain the guardian's consent."

"Oh, confound it!" I cried, "I did not know that. I believed the banns
could be published whilst the consent was being worked for."

He mused awhile, eyeing his wife and Grace, who continued deep in
conversation, and then, after a considerable pause, exclaimed:

"There is nothing to be done but this; we must revert to your original
scheme; Miss Bellassys--"

"Call her Grace," said I.

"Well, Grace must come and stay with us."

I nodded, for _that_ I had intended all along.

"I will find a lodging for you in the village." I nodded again.
"Meanwhile--this very day, indeed--you must sit down and write to Lady
Amelia Roscoe, saying all that your good sense c