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Rh “Mr. Gay, I cannot but feel that I owe you some apology for having gained the affections of a young lady to whom you were attached—Jessie, my love, compose yourself.”

And the Bishop gently removed Jessie's arms from Zorah's neck, and placed them about his own.

“My Lord,” said Mr. Gay, “I am lost in amazement. When I have more fully realized the unparalleled misfortune that has overtaken me I shall perhaps be able to speak and act with calmness. At the present moment I am unable to trust myself to do either. I am stunned—quite, quite stunned.”

“Do not suppose, my dear Mr. Gay,” said the Bishop, “that I came here this morning to add to your reasonable misery by presenting myself before you in the capacity of a successful rival. No. I came to tell you that poor old Mr. Chudd, the vicar of Crawleigh has been mercifully removed. He is no more, and as the living is in my gift, I have come to tell you that, if it can compensate in any way for the terrible loss I have been the unintentional means of inflicting upon you, it is entirely at your disposal. It is worth £1,800 per annum—the duty is extremely light, and the local society is unexceptional.”

Stanley Gay pressed the kind old Bishop's hand.

“Eighteen hundred a year will not entirely compensate me for Jessie.”

“For Miss Lightly,” murmured the Bishop, gently.

“For Miss Lightly—but it will go some way towards doing so. I accept your lordship's offer with gratitude.”

“We shall always take an interest in you,” said the Bishop.