“It was but the work of an instant for me to don the robe and surplice which he had dropped in his fright, and I was at the altar in time to receive the strange couple, one of whom I was now convinced was a designing villain, the other his victim.
“The maiden was apparently very young, and my heart was pained for her; her voice was sweet and childish as she made the responses, and I felt in my soul that she must be motherless, or she would not be there in any such way as that.
“The propriety of my adopting the course I did might be questioned by some, and the thought arise why I did not instead denounce the villain and save the child. I had reasoned all that within myself, and was convinced that if she was so infatuated with her lover that he had won her consent to a secret marriage, it would not be difficult for him to win her again to his will, and, even in the face of my revelation, to do her the foul wrong he had planned. I judged that the greatest kindness I could do her would be to make her really a wife.
“In less than ten minutes the vows which made them one were pronounced, and they were as truly man and wife as any who ever took upon themselves the vows of matrimony; and, putting the certificate of the transaction in the young bride’s hand, I saw them go forth into their new life, feeling that whatever happened, I had done what I could.
“I did not believe that with that certificate in her possession, whereon my name was written in my boldest hand, to prove the transaction, that any very great harm could come to that child-wife. I returned to the robing-room, removed my vestures, picked up the wig and beard which still lay there, and brought them home with me as trophies of a strange adventure. They are locked within the third drawer of the old Grafton bureau. God bless and spare that innocent maiden; my heart yearneth over her.”
Thus ended the bishop’s first entry regarding that strange adventure, and a long, deep sigh, as if some heavy burden had rolled from his heart, burst from Marion Vance’s son as he finished reading it and laid down the book.
“Thank God!” he said, devoutly.
“Amen!” murmured the sweet-faced Miss Isabel, who had sat silently watching him as he read, and who seemed to comprehend and sympathize with all that that burst of thanks meant.
“There is something more, I believe, a little farther on,” she said, after a moment of silence, and reaching for the book. “Here it is,” she added, after turning several pages. “I have read it a great many times, and hoped that that young girl might have been happy; and yet I feared for her—there is so much that is sad in the world,” she concluded, with a sigh.
The excited youth again seized the book eagerly, and read: