uite man enough to have married
Chatty out of hand without any assistance at all. However, to assist
a bishop in the capacity of the parish clergyman of the bride was a
position not without dignity, and he felt that he had, on the whole,
little to complain of. He went into his study to speak to the young
woman when that little consultation was over. Lizzie was seated, as they
always were, upon the edge of one of the chairs. He was surprised to see
her, though he could scarcely have said why.

"Oh, Lizzie! I am sorry to have kept you waiting: but I had something to
do for Mrs. Wilberforce," the rector said.

"It doesn't matter, sir. I came to ask your advice, if I may make so
bold."

"Certainly, certainly, Lizzie--anything that I can do."

"It isn't for me, sir, it's for a friend," she said, with the same device
which Dick had employed, but in her case with more appropriateness. "I
want to ask you, sir, about marriages. Oh, it's very serious, sir, there's
nothing to smile about."

"I will not smile then, Lizzie. I shall be as serious as you please."

"It's just this, sir. When a man has been married and has had his wife
run away from him and hasn't seen her nor heard of her for years--for
six or seven years--he's free to marry again?"

"Do you think so? I should not like to affirm so much as that."

"But what I want you to tell me," said Lizzie, running on very quickly
and taking no notice of his interruption, "is whether, if it could be
proved that he _had_ heard of her though he hadn't seen her, if that
would make any difference?"

"I have no doubt it would make all the difference in the world. Even
your first statement is doubtful, I fear. I don't think seven years is a
sacred period that would justify a second marriage."

"I didn't say seven, sir, for certain. Six or seven."

"That is of little importance. The presumption is, that if he has heard
nothing of her for a long period she must be dead; but of course, if he
has heard of her existence----"

"But dead to him, oh, dead to him!" cried Lizzie, "leading a dreadful
life, not a woman he could ever touch, or so much as look at again."

"I am afraid," said the rector, shaking his head, "though it is a very
hard case for him, that there is nothing to be done. He should try and
get a divorce--but that is a serious business. I don't know what else
there is in his power."

"Would he be punished for it, sir?"

"It is not so much the punishment to him. In