It is your duty,— especially your duty,— to separate them.’ This was said by Mr. Smirkie, the vicar of Plum-cum-Pippin, to Mr. Bromley, the rector of Utterden, and the words were spoken in the park at Babington where the two clergymen were taking a walk together. Mr. Smirkie’s first wife had been a Miss Bromley, a sister of the clergyman at Utterden and as Julia Babington was anxious to take to her bosom all her future husband’s past belongings, Mr. Bromley had been invited to Babington. It might be that Aunt Polly was at this time well inclined to exercise her hospitality in this direction by a feeling that Mr. Bromley would be able to talk to them about this terrible affair. Mr. Bromley was intimate with John Caldigate, and of course would know all about it. There was naturally in Aunt Polly’s heart a certain amount of self-congratulation at the way in which things were going. Mr. Smirkie, no doubt, had had a former wife, but no one would call him a bigamist. In what a condition might her poor Julia have been but for that interposition of Providence! For Aunt Polly regarded poor Hester Bolton as having been quite a providential incident, furnished expressly for the salvation of Julia. Hitherto Mr. Bromley had been very short in his expressions respecting the Folking tragedy, having simply declared that, judging by character, he could not conceive that a man such as Caldigate would have been guilty of such a crime. But now he was being put through his facings more closely by his brother-in-law.

‘Why should I want to separate them?’

‘Because the evidence of his guilt is so strong.’

‘That is for a jury to judge.’

‘Yes; and if a jury should decide that there had been no Australian marriage,— which I fear we can hardly hope;— but if a jury were to decide that, then of course she could go back to him. But while there is a doubt, I should have thought, Tom, you certainly would have seen it, even though you never have had a wife of your own.’

‘I think I see all that there is to see,’ said the other. ‘If the poor lady has been deceived and betrayed no punishment can be too heavy for the man who has so injured her. But the very enormity of the iniquity makes me doubt it. As far as I can judge, Caldigate is a high-spirited, honest gentleman, to whom the perpetration of so great a sin would hardly suggest itself.’

‘But if,— but if —! Think of her condition, Tom!’

‘You would have to think of your own, if you were to attempt to tell her to leave him.’

‘That means that you are afraid of her.’

‘It certainly means that I should be very much afraid if I thought of taking such a liberty. If I believed it to be my duty, I hope that I would do it.’

‘You are her clergyman.’

‘Certainly. I christened her child. I preach to her twice every Sunday. And if she were to die I should bury her.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Pretty nearly;— except that I generally dine at the house once a week.’

‘Is there nothing further confided to you than that?’

‘If she were to come to me for advice, then it would be my duty to give her what advice I thought to be best; and then —’

‘Well, then?’

‘Then I should have to make up my mind,— which I have not done at present,— I should have to make up my mind, not as to his guilt, for I believe him to be innocent, but as to the expediency of a separation till a jury should have acquitted him. But I am well aware that she won’t come to me; and from little words which constantly drop from her, I am quite sure that nothing would induce her to leave her husband but a direct command from himself.’

‘You might do it through him.’

‘I am equally sure that nothing would induce him to send her away.’

But such a conviction as this was not sufficient for Mr. Smirkie. He was alive to the fact,— uncomfortably alive to the fact,— that the ordinary life of gentle-folk in England does not admit of direct clerical interference. As a country clergyman, he could bestow his admonitions upon his poorer neighbours; but upon those who were well-to-do he could not intrude himself unasked, unless, as he thought, in cases of great emergency. Here was a case of very great emergency. He was sure that he would have courage for the occasion if Folking were within the bounds of Plum-cum-Pippin. It was just the case in which counsel should be volunteered;— in which so much could be said which would be gross impertinence from others though it might be so manifest a duty to a clergyman! But Mr. Bromley could not be aroused to a sense either of his duty or of his privileges. All this was sad to Mr. Smirkie, who regretted those past days in which, as he believed, the delinquent soul had been as manifestly subject to ecclesiastical interference as the delinquent body has always been to the civil law.

But with Julia, who was to be his wife, he could be more imperative. She was taught to give thanks before the throne of grace because she had been spared the ignominy of being married to a man who could not have made her his wife, and had had an unstained clergyman of the Church of England given to her for her protection. For with that candour which is so delightful, and so common in these days, everything had been told to Mr. Smirkie,— how her young heart had for a time turned itself towards her cousin, how she had been deceived, and then how rejoiced she was that by such deceit she had been reserved for her present more glorious fate. ‘And won’t Mr. Bromley speak to her?’ Julia asked.

‘It is a very difficult question,— a very difficult question, indeed,’ said Mr. Smirkie, shaking his head. He was quite sure that were Folking in his parish he would perform the duty, though Mr. Caldigate and the unfortunate lady might be as a lion and a lioness in opposition to him; but he was also of opinion that sacerdotal differences of opinion should not be discussed among laymen,— should not be discussed by a clergyman even with the wife of his bosom.

At Babington opinion was somewhat divided. Aunt Polly and Julia were of course certain that John Caldigate had married the woman in Australia. But the two other girls and their father were not at all so sure. Indeed, there had been a little misunderstanding among the Babingtons on the subject, which was perhaps strengthened by the fact that Mr. Smirkie had more endeared himself to Julia’s mother than to Julia’s father or sisters, and that Mr. Smirkie himself was very clear as to the criminality of the bigamist ‘I suppose you are often there,’ Mr. Babington said to his guest, the parson of Utterden.

‘Yes; I have seen a good deal of them.’

‘Do you think it possible?’

‘Not probable,’ said the clergyman.

‘I don’t,’ said the Squire. ‘I suppose he was a little wild out there, but that is a very different thing from bigamy. Young men, when they get out to those places, are not quite so particular as they ought to be I daresay. When I was young, perhaps I was not as steady as I ought to have been. But, by George! here is a man comes over and asks for a lot of money; and then the woman asks for money; and then they say that if they don’t get it, they’ll swear the fellow was married in Australia. I can’t fancy that any jury will believe that.’

‘I hope not.’

‘And yet, Madame,’— the Squire was in the habit of calling his wife Madame when he intended to insinuate anything against her,—‘has got it settled in her head that this young woman isn’t his wife at all. I think it’s uncommon hard. A man ought to be considered innocent till he has been found guilty. I shall go over and see him one of these days, and say a kind word to her.’

There was at that moment some little difference of opinion, which was coming to a head in reference to a very delicate matter. When the conversations above related took place, the Babington wedding had been fixed to take place in a week’s time. Should cousin John be invited, or should he not? Julia was decidedly against it. ‘She did not think,’ she said, ‘that she could stand up at the altar and conduct herself on an occasion so trying if she were aware that he were standing by her.’ Mr. Smirkie, of course, was not asked,— was not directly asked. But equally, of course, he was able to convey his own opinion through his future bride. Aunt Polly thought that the county would be shocked if a man charged with bigamy was allowed to be present at the marriage. But the Squire was a man who could have an opinion of his own; and after having elicited that of Mr. Bromley, insisted that the invitation should be sent.

‘It will be a pollution,’ said Julia, sternly, to her younger sisters.

‘You will be a married woman almost before you have seen him,’ said Georgiana, the second, ‘and so it won’t matter so much to you. We must get over it as we can.’

Julia had been thought by her sisters not to bear the Smirkie triumph with sufficie............