Winterfield?"

"Yes. His first marriage took place before the registrar."

"In plain English, Romayne, Mr. Winterfield and the woman-rider in the
circus pronounced a formula of words before a layman in an office. That
is not only no marriage, it is a blasphemous profanation of a holy
rite. Acts of Parliament which sanction such proceedings are acts of
infidelity. The Church declares it, in defense of religion."

"I understand you," said Romayne. "Mr. Winterfield's marriage at
Brussels--"

"Which the English law," Father Benwell interposed, "declares to
be annulled by the marriage before the registrar, stands good,
nevertheless, by the higher law of the Church. Mr. Winterfield is Miss
Eyrecourt's husband, as long as they both live. An ordained priest
performed the ceremony in a consecrated building--and Protestant
marriages, so celebrated, are marriages acknowledged by the Catholic
Church. Under those circumstances, the ceremony which afterward united
you to Miss Eyrecourt--though neither you nor the clergyman were to
blame--was a mere mockery. Need I to say any more? Shall I leave you for
a while by yourself?"

"No! I don't know what I may think, I don't know what I may do, if you
leave me by myself."

Father Benwell took a chair by Romayne's side. "It has been my hard duty
to grieve and humiliate you," he said. "Do you bear me no ill will?" He
held out his hand.

Romayne took it--as an act of justice, if not as an act of gratitude.

"Can I be of any use in advising you?" Father Benwell asked.

"Who can advise a man in my position?" Romayne bitterly rejoined.

"I can at least suggest that you should take time to think over your
position."

"Time? take time? You talk as if my situation was endurable."

"Everything is endurable, Romayne!"

"It may be so to you, Father Benwell. Did you part with your humanity
when you put on the black robe of the priest?"

"I parted, my son, with those weaknesses of _our_ humanity on which
women practice. You talk of your position. I will put it before you at
its worst."

"For what purpose?"

"To show you exactly what you have now to decide. Judged by the law of
England, Mrs. Romayne is your wife. Judged by the principles held sacred
among the religious community to which you belong, she is not Mrs.
Romayne--she is Mrs. Winterfield, living with you in adultery. If you
regret your conversion--"

"I don't regret it, Father Benwell."

"If you renounce the holy aspirati