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"
"What does he say, Father Dan?"
"I don't really know if I ought to tell you, I really don't. Yet if it's
true . . . if there's anything in it . . ."
I was trembling, but I begged him to tell me what Martin had said. He
told me. It was about my intended husband--that he was a man of
irregular life, a notorious loose liver, who kept up a connection with
somebody in London, a kind of actress who was practically his wife
already, and therefore his marriage with me would be--so Martin had
said--nothing but "legalised and sanctified concubinage."
With many breaks and pauses my dear old priest told me this story, as if
it were something so infamous that his simple and innocent heart could
scarcely credit it.
"If I really thought it was true," he said, "that a man living such a
life could come here to marry my little . . . But no, God could not
suffer a thing like that. I must ask, though. I must make sure. We live
so far away in this little island that . . . But I must go back now. The
Bishop will be calling for me.


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