"Let me save you the trouble," said the prisoner. "Your lordship's time has been wasted enough with falsehoods; I will not waste it further by denying the truth. The fact is, my lord, I was always a great churchgoer (a laugh), and I was disgusted with the way in which the clergy deliver the Liturgy, and with their hollow discourses, that don't go home to men's bosoms. Vanity whispered, 'You could do better.' I applied for the curacy of St. Peter's. I obtained it. I gave universal satisfaction; and no wonder; my heart was in the work; I trembled at the responsibility I had undertaken.
Yes, my lord, I united that young lady in holy matrimony to one Frederick Coventry. I had no sooner done it, than I began to realize that a clergyman is something more than a reader and a preacher. Remorse seized me. My penitence, once awakened, was sincere. I retired from the sacred office I had usurped--with much levity, I own, but, as heaven is my witness, with no guilty intent."
The Judge, to Grace. "Did you ever see the prisoner on any other occasion?"
Grace. "Only once. He called on me after my marriage. He left the town soon after."
The Judge then turned to Grace, and said, with considerable feeling, "It would be unkind to disguise the truth from you. You must petition Parliament to sanction this marriage by a distinct enactment; it is the invariable course, and Parliament has never refused to make these marriages binding. Until then, pray understand that you are Miss Carden, and not Mrs. Coventry."
The witness clasped her hands above her bead, uttered a loud scream of joy, and was removed all but insensible from the box.
The Judge looked amazed. The Sheriff whispered, "Her hushand is a greater scoundrel than this prisoner."
Soon after this the Judge withdrew to luncheon, and took the Sheriff along with him. "Mr. Sheriff," said he, "you said something to me in court I hardly understood."
Then Raby gave the Judge a brief outline of the whole story, and, in a voice full of emotion, asked his advice.
The Judge smiled at this bit of simplicity; but his heart had been touched, and he had taken a fancy to Raby. "Mr. Sheriff," said he, "etiquette forbids me to advise you--"
"I am sorry for that, my lord."
"But humanity suggests-- Tell me, now, does this Coventry hold to her? Will he petition Parliament?"
"It is very possible, my lord."
"Humph! Get a special license, and marry Grace Carden to Henry Little, and have the marriage consummated. Don't lose a day, nor an hour. I will not detain you, Mr. Sheriff."
Raby took the hint, and soon found Henry, and told him the advice he had got. He set him to work to get the license, and, being resolved to stand no nonsense, he drove to Grace, and invited her to Raby Hall. "I am to be married this week," said he, "and you must be at the wedding."
Grace thought he would be hurt if she refused, so she colored a little, but consented.
She packed up, with many a deep sigh, things fit for a wedding, and Raby drove her home. He saw her to her room, and then had a conversation with Mrs. Little, the result of which was that Henry's mother received her with well-feigned cordiality.
Next day Henry came to dinner, and, after dinner, the lovers were left alone. This, too, had been arranged beforehand.
Henry told her he was going to ask her a great favor; would she consider all they had suffered, and, laying aside childish delays, be married to him in the old church to-morrow, along with Mr. Raby and Jael Dence?
Oh, then she trembled, and blushed, and hesitated; and faltered out, "What! all in a moment like that? what would your mother think of me?"
Henry ran for his mother, and brought her into the room.
"Mother," said he, "Grace wants to know what you will think of her, if she should lay aside humbug and marry me to-morrow?"
Mrs. Little replied, "I shall say, here is a dear child, who has seen what misery may spring from delay, and so now she will not coquet with her own happiness, nor trifle with yours."
"No, no," said Grace; "only tell me you will forgive my folly, and love me as your child."
Mrs. Little caught her in her arms, and, in that attitude, Grace gave her hand to Henry, and whispered "Yes."
Next day, at eleven o'clock, the two couples went to the old church, and walked up the aisle to the altar. Grace looked all around.
Raby had effaced every trace of Henry's sacrilege from the building; but not from the heart of her whose life he had saved on that very spot.
She stood at the altar, weeping at the recollections the place revived, but they were tears of joy. The parson of the parish, a white-haired old man, the model of a pastor, married the two couples according to the law of England.
Raby took his wife home, more majorum.
Little whirled his prize off to Scotland, and human felicity has seldom equaled his and his bride's.
Yet in the rapture of conjugal bliss, she did not forget duty and filial affection. She wrote a long and tender letter to her father, telling him how it all happened, and hoping that she should soon be settled, and then he would come and live with her and her adored husband.
Mr. Carden was delighted with this letter, which, indeed, was one gush of love and happiness. He told Coventry what had taken place, and counseled patience.
Coventry broke out into curses. He made wonderful efforts for a man in his condition; he got lawyers to prepare a petition to Parliament; he had the register inspected, and found that the Shifty had married two poor couples; he bribed them to join in his petition, and inserted in it that, in consideration of this marriage, he had settled a certain farm and buildings on his wife for her separate use, and on her heirs forever.
The petition was read in Parliament, and no objection taken. It was considered a matter of course.
