MICH. Well?
SIR LYOLF. You know that everybody is asking where all the money came from for these magnificent restorations?
MICH. It was sent to me anonymously. The giver wishes to remain unknown.
SIR LYOLF. Yes! Yes! That’s what you’ve told us. But of course you know who it is?
MICH. I mustn’t speak of it.
SIR LYOLF. Forgive me.
MICH. Let’s say no more. I’m glad you came here to-night. I’ve been very much perplexed by a confession that has been made to me recently. A priest—you know him, Mark—he is to be present to-morrow—a priest some time ago discovered one of his people in a course of lying and deception, and insisted upon a very severe penalty from the man. And now the priest tells me, that in order to save one very dear to him, he himself has lately been practising exactly the same course of lying and deception. He came to me for advice. I said, “You must pay exactly the same penalty that you demanded from your parishioner.” But he objects—he says it will bring disgrace on his family, and disgrace on our cloth. He urged all manner of excuses, but I wouldn’t listen to him. He wishes to be present at the dedication service to-morrow. I’ve refused him. Have I done right?
SIR LYOLF. Yes, I should say so.
MARK. Was it a just penalty?
MICH. Yes, I believe so—the just, the only penalty, in my opinion. Have I done right?