But I should be false to my duty, and unworthy of my position as a solicitor, if I did not warn you of the probable consequences of acting rashly in this matter."

He paused as if to invite some comment from me on what he had said. I must have looked perplexed, for I had, indeed, a question to ask him, a question that was suggested in some way, I do not know why, by his remarks; but how to put it into words I did not know. Seeing that I was confused, and thinking, probably, that I was weighing the issue he had put to me, he continued:

"Perhaps you would like to consider the matter. I shall be here every day between ten and six, and shall be very happy to see you at any time you like to look in. Do not stand on any ceremony about coming to see me. It will give me the greatest pleasure to discuss the matter with you, and, as far as I can, advise you. Do you know the motto that Von Moltke, the great Prussian general, took for his crest after the Franco-German war?"

"No, sir."

"Well, it is four German words, 'Erst wagen, denn tragen.' Literally it means, 'First think, then act,' or, to use our own slang phrase, 'Look before you leap.' Take my advice and follow the motto of the Prussian general."

"Mr. Chambers," I said, "there is a question I should like to ask you, and yet I do not know how to express it."

"When the Roman Catholics go to confession," said Mr. Chambers, "they say what they please to their confessor, because they know that they are protected by what is termed the seal of confession, that is, by the obligation of the priest never, under any circumstances, to divulge what has passed during confession. The obligation of a solicitor to his client is exactly similar. So far I have been acting in this matter as solicitor to both sides. You may regard yourself as a client of mine at present; and you may speak to me with the perfect assurance that anything you may say is as secret as if it were whispered into the tomb."

"It is difficult," I replied, "to ask the question so as not to be misunderstood, or, at least, so as not to run the risk of giving offense. Yet, acting as I am in the dark, I think I am entitled to ask it. You and I, sir, are, as you have said, strangers. Miss Grey is so much a stranger to me that I have never clearly seen her face. For Miss Grey I have the most profound respect. That I have the most implicit confidence in you, the fact of my putting the question to you will show. Speaking, then, as one who knows nothing, to you who know all, or at the least much more than I do, I ask you, as man to man, this question:

"Do I in any way compromise my honor if I marry Miss Grey in the way that is proposed?"

We had been looking each other straight in the face while I spoke. When I had finished, he said, without the slightest change on his countenance, which I had been trying without success to read:

"Why do you ask?"

"Because," I replied firmly, "if that is so I renounce the whole matter."

"But if it is not so?"

"Then I shall marry Miss Grey." I stopped there; I did not think it prudent to say what I felt tempted to say, and what would have been the truth, that I wanted no reward for doing as she wished. For a moment he gave me a look that was searching without being obtrusive. Then he said:

"I believe that if any words of mine could balk you in your purpose it would be the greatest kindness that was ever done you; but I have to speak the truth. As man to man, Miss Grey is a pure-minded and virtuous woman, and your honor is not in any way compromised by marrying her."

"Then, sir, you have my final decision."

"I hope not," said Mr. Chambers, very gravely. "A wise man is always prepared to change his mind if fresh knowledge or reflection should make it expedient to do so. Will you look in on me to-morrow afternoon at about this hour? In the meantime, think well of what I have said; remember that liberty, like health, is a thing the value of which we only realize when we have lost it, and that you are sacrificing one of the most precious attributes of liberty if you doom yourself to a life of enforced celibacy."

He saw me to the door, where he shook hands warmly with me, and I left promising to see him the following afternoon.

It is not necessary to do more than describe very briefly what took place during the next ten or eleven days. On Saturday the marriage was fixed for the following Monday week. In the meantime I removed to a set of chambers in Adelphi Terrace, from which there was a fine view of the river. Mr. Chambers tried several times very hard to alter my resolution, and materially increased the offer of £2,000, if I would give up the marriage; but as his arguments did not apply to the motives which really influenced me, they were rather irrelevant.

One thing that he was surprised at, I could see, was my indifference as to how the money was to be secured to me. The way in which it was done eventually was by a letter to me from Mr. Duke and himself, making themselves and their executors jointly and severally liable to pay me £500 every quarter so long as I abstained from claiming the lady to whom I was about to be married, as my wife. This letter, I may mention, was given to me without any solicitation on my part; for the monetary portion of the transaction was most repulsive to my feelings. I signed without reading the marriage settlement. When Mr. Chambers began, in an apologetic manner, to intimate the reasons why this should be done, I saved him the trouble of entering upon any explanation by saying that the reasons were too obvious to need being repeated, and that I had no wish to pry into Miss Grey's affairs.

On the following Thursday week £1,000 was placed to my credit at Messrs. Duke, Furnival & Company's bank, and on the Monday after, at seven o'clock in the evening, the marriage took place, by special license, at 41 York Place, in the parlor where I had had the interview with Miss Grey.

I walked up to the house at a few minutes to seven o'clock, and was shown into the same parlor by the same servant. I had not been in the room for more than a minute when Mr. Chambers came in looking very fresh and smiling. After a few casual remarks he gave me the wedding-ring, which I was to put on the bride's finger. He had hardly done so when a young clergyman came in in full canonicals, and after him Mr. Duke with a lady who wore a white veil of such a thick texture that it would have been impossible, had I tried, to distinguish her features. The service began at once. I had been previously "coached" by Mr. Chambers, and got through my part of the ceremony pretty well; but her responses were given in a much more steady tone than mine were. The only bit of information that I gained from the marriage service was that her name was Catherine. Otherwise I might as well have been married to a being in another world as to the cold statuesque form which was standing by my side, and which was presently to vanish from my sight forever. The service over, she sat down while I replied to the questions of the clergyman and signed the marriage register. Then, in accordance with our previous arrangements, Mr. Chambers and I quietly left the room and went up-stairs to a richly furnished drawing-room. Here he left me for a few minutes, and then returned, saying:

"I think we may leave now. You will do me the pleasure, I hope, to dine with me this evening."

We descended the stairs, and had just got to the hall-door, which Mr. Chambers was in the act of opening, when the parlor door opened, the veiled figure of the lady I had married came out, bowed slightly to both of us—more to me, I thought, than to Mr. Chambers—said in a voice in which I could detect no expression or emotion, "Farewell," glided lightly up the stairs, and disappeared. We both bowed; I could find no word in