made man and wife, as fast as marriage vows could
make them. Nothing was omitted that would make the ceremony binding and
legal, not even its performance by a clergyman of the Church of
England."

A cry of rage and despair interrupted the reader. But he went on
directly.

"No one in America knew that I had been educated for the Church and had
taken orders, though I have never preached except one month; the work
was distasteful to me, and when my brother died and I inherited my
grandfather's property, I resigned my pastorate at once. This act shows
how unfit for it I was. But whatever my grief may be, my conscience
commands me to forbid this present marriage, and to declare with all
solemnity, that Stephen Archdale already has a wife, and that she is
that lady, who, until she opened my letter, believed herself still
Mistres Royal."

A burst of amazement and indignation, that could no longer be repressed,
interrupted the reading. Faces and voices expressed consternation. To
this confession had been added names and dates, the year of the writer's
entrance into the ministry, the time and place of his brief pastorate,
everything that was necessary to give his statement a reliable air, and
to verify it if one chose to do so. It was evident that there could be
no wedding that morning, and as the truth of the story impressed itself,
more and more upon the minds of the audience, a fear spread lest there
could be no wedding at all, such as they had been called together to
witness. For, if this amusement should turn out to have been a real
marriage, what help was there? It was in the days when amusements were
viewed seriously and were readily imagined to lead to fatal
consequences. Had Stephen Archdale really married? The people in the
drawing-room that December morning were able men and women, they were
among the best representatives of their time, an age that America will
always be proud of, but they held marriage vows so sacred, that even
made in jest there seemed to be a weight in them. Proofs must be found,
law must speak, yet these people in waiting feared, for their part in
life was to be so great in uprightness and self-restraint, that these
qualities flowing through mighty channels should conquer physical
strength and found a nation. To do a thing because it was pleasant was
no part of their creed,--although, even then, there were occasional
examples of it in practice.

That winter morning, therefore, the guests wer