“I have a position,” said the bishop. “But would you prefer that I tell you of that first, or begin at the beginning and briefly relate to you what has happened since I saw you last?”
“Oh, begin at the beginning, by all means,” said Mr. Archibald. “I was sorry to be obliged to leave you all so unceremoniously, and I greatly desire to know what happened after we left.”
“Very good, then,” said the bishop, “I will give you our history in as few words as I can. On the afternoon after your departure we all went to Sadler’s—that is, Miss Raybold and myself and the three guides; for Raybold, when he heard that Miss Dearborn and Mr. Clyde had gone, immediately left for Sadler’s, hoping, I think, to find you all there. From what I heard, I think he and Peter Sadler must have had words. At any rate, he discovered that his case was hopeless, and he had himself driven to the station in a carriage, not choosing to wait until our arrival. I have since heard that he has determined to relinquish the law and devote himself to the dramatic arts.
“For some reason or other, Peter Sadler was very glad to see me, and congratulated me heartily on the favorable change in my appearance. He called me his favorite tramp, and invited me to stop at his hotel for a time, but I consented to stay a few days only, for I felt I must go to see the gentleman to whom I wished to engage myself as librarian before my new clothes had lost their freshness. Miss Raybold arranged to stay at Sadler’s for a week. She liked the place, and as she had planned to remain away from home for a fortnight, she did not wish to return before the time fixed upon. There were a good many people at Sadler’s, but none of them seemed to interest her. She decidedly preferred to talk to Sadler or to me; but although Peter is a jolly fellow, and had some lively conversations with her, he does not seem to care for protracted mental intercourse, and it became so plain to me that she depended upon me, in so large a degree, for companionship and intellectual stimulus, that I did not leave as soon as I intended. It was on Wednesday, in fact, that I steeled my heart and told her that I must positively depart early the following morning, or I could not expect to reach my destination before the end of the week. It was that evening, however, that we became engaged to be married.”
“What?” cried Mr. Archibald. “Did you dare to propose yourself to that classic being?”
“No,” replied the other, “I cannot, with exactness, say that I did. It would be difficult, indeed, for me to describe the manner in which we arrived at this most satisfactory conclusion. Miss Raybold is a mistress of expression, and, without moving a hair’s-breadth beyond the lines of maidenly reserve which always environ her, she made me aware, not only that I desired to propose marriage to her, but that it would be well for me to do so. There were objections to this course, which, as an honest man, I could not refrain from laying before her, and with my proposition I stated these objections, but they were overruled to my entire satisfaction, and she consented to become Mrs. Bishop.”
“Mrs. Bishop?” said the other, inquiringly.
“Oh yes; Bishop is my name—Henry C. Bishop. It was this name which suggested the title which was playfully given to me. Before our compact was made I had told Miss Raybold all about my family. She did not ask me to do so, but I knew she desired the information, for I had learned to read those beautiful eyes.”
“But,” said Mr. Archibald, “how about your position? Did you get the place as librarian?”
“No,” said the other, “I did not ask for it. The question of my vocation has been settled most admirably. There never was a human being more frank, more straightforward and pertinent than Miss Raybold. She knows what she wants, and she makes her plans to get it. With regard to means she is sufficiently endowed, but the life work to which she has devoted herself is far more than she can ever accomplish alone. She needs the constant assistance of a sympathetic and appreciative nature, and that, I am happy to say, I am able to give to her; and were I to devote myself to any other calling which would interfere with that assistance, I should be doing her a positive wrong. Therefore, should I state it in definite words, I should say that I am to become my wife’s private secretary. That is my position, and it suits me admirably; and I may add that Corona assures me that she is thoroughly well pleased. We are to be married in the fall, and I hope it will not be long before we shall have the pleasure of meeting again our former companions of the hermit camp.”