<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2>
<h3>EXIT MR CARGRIM</h3>
<p>Once informed of the welcome truth, Dr Pendle lost no time in having it
verified by documents and extraneous evidence. This was not the affair
of hours, but of days, since it entailed a visit to St Chad's Church at
Hampstead, and a rigorous examination of the original marriage and death
certificates. Also, as Bosvile, <i>alias</i> Krant, <i>alias</i> Jentham was said
to be a gipsy on the authority of Miss Whichello, and as the information
that Baltic was in the confidence of Mother Jael had trickled through
Brace and Graham to the bishop, the last named considered it advisable
that the ex-sailor should be informed of the actual truth. Now that Dr
Pendle was personally satisfied of the legality of his marriage, he had
no hesitation in acquainting Baltic with his life-history, particularly
as the man could obtain from Mother Jael an assurance, in writing if
necessary, that Bosvile and Jentham were one and the same. For the
satisfaction of all parties concerned, it was indispensable that proof
positive should be procured, and the matter settled beyond all doubt.
The position, as affecting both the private feelings and social status
of Bishop and Mrs Pendle, was too serious a one to be dealt with
otherwise than in the most circumspect manner.</p>
<p>After Miss Whichello's visit and revelation, Dr Pendle immediately
sought out his wife to explain that after all doubts and difficulties,
and lies and forgeries, they were as legally bound to one another as any
couple in the three Kingdoms; that their children were legitimate and
could bear their father's name, and that the evil which had survived the
death of its author was now but shadow and wind—in a word,
non-existent. Mrs Pendle, who had borne the shock of her pseudo
husband's resurrection so bravely, was quite<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</SPAN></span> overwhelmed by the good
news of her re-established position, and fainted outright when her
husband broke it to her. But for Lucy's sake—as the bishop did not wish
Lucy to know, or even suspect anything—she afterwards controlled her
feelings better, and, relieved from the apprehension of coming danger,
speedily recovered her health and spirits. She was thus, at a week's
end, enabled to attend in the library a council of six people summoned
by her husband to adjust the situation. The good bishop was nothing if
not methodical and thorough; and he was determined that the matter of
the false and true marriages should be threshed out to the last grain.
Therefore, the council was held <i>ex aequo et bono</i>.</p>
<p>On this momentous occasion there were present the bishop himself and Mrs
Pendle, who sat close beside his chair; also Miss Whichello, fluttered
and anxious, in juxtaposition with Dr Graham; and Gabriel, who had
placed himself near Baltic the sedate and solemn-faced. When all were
assembled, the bishop lost no time in speaking of the business which had
brought them together. He related in detail the imposture of Jentham,
the murder by Mosk, who since had taken his own life, and the revelation
of Miss Whichello, ending with the production of the documents proving
the several marriages, and a short statement explaining the same.</p>
<p>'Here,' said Dr Pendle, 'is the certificate of marriage between Pharaoh
Bosvile and Ann Whichello, dated December 1869. They lived together as
man and wife for six months up to May 1870, after which Bosvile deserted
the unhappy lady.'</p>
<p>'After spending all her money, the wretch!' put in Miss Whichello,
angrily.</p>
<p>'Bosvile!' continued the bishop, 'had previously made the acquaintance
of my wife, then Amy Lancaster, under the false name of Stephen Krant;
and so far won her love that, thinking him a single man, she consented
to marry him.'</p>
<p>'No, bishop,' contradicted Mrs Pendle, very positively, 'he did not win
my love; he fascinated me with his good looks and charming manners, for
in spite of the scar on his cheek Stephen was very handsome. Some friend
introduced<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</SPAN></span> him to my father as a Hungarian exile hiding under the name
of Krant from Austrian vengeance; and my father, enthusiastic on the
subject of patriotism, admitted him to our house. I was then a weak,
foolish girl, and his wicked brilliancy drew me towards him. When he
learned that I had money of my own he proposed to marry me. My father
objected, but I was infatuated by Stephen's arts, and became his wife in
October 1870.'</p>
<p>'Quite so, my love,' assented her husband, mildly; 'as an inexperienced
girl you were at the mercy of that Belial. You were married as you say
in October 1870; here, to prove that statement, is the certificate,' and
the bishop passed it to Baltic. 'But at the time of such marriage Mrs
Bosvile was still alive. Miss Whichello can vouch for this important
fact!'</p>
<p>'Ah! that I can,' sighed the little old lady, shaking her head. 'My poor
darling sister did not die until January 1871, and I was present to
close her weary—weary eyes. Is not that the certificate of her death
you are holding?'</p>
<p>'Yes,' answered the bishop, simply, and gave the paper into her
outstretched hand. 'You can now understand, my friends,' he continued,
addressing the company generally, 'that as Mrs Bosvile was alive in
October 1870, the marriage which her husband then contracted with Miss
Lancaster was a false one.'</p>
<p>'That is clear enough,' murmured the attentive Baltic, nodding.</p>
<p>'It thus appears,' resumed the bishop, concisely, 'that when I
married—as I thought—Amy Krant, a widow, in September 1871, I really
and truly wedded Amy Lancaster, a spinster. Therefore this lady'—and
here the bishop clasped tenderly the hand of Mrs Pendle—'is my true,
dear wife, and has been legally so these many years, notwithstanding
Bosvile's infamous assertion to the contrary.'</p>
<p>'Thank God! thank God!' cried Mrs Pendle, with joyful tears. 'Gabriel,
my darling boy!' and she stretched out her disengaged hand to caress her
son. Gabriel kissed it with unconcealed emotion.</p>
<p>In the meantime, Dr Graham was examining the bishop's marriage
certificate with sharp attention, as he thought he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</SPAN></span> espied a flaw.
'Pardon me, my dear Pendle,' said he, in his crisp voice, 'but I see
that Mrs Pendle became your wife under a name which we now know was not
then her own. Does that false name vitiate the marriage?'</p>
<p>'By no means,' replied the bishop, promptly. 'I took counsel's opinion
on that point when I was in London. It is as follows'—and Dr Pendle
read an extract from a legal-looking document. '"A marriage which is
made in ignorance in a false name is perfectly good. The law on the
subject appears to be this—If a person, to conceal his or her identity,
assumes either a wrong name or description, so as to practically obtain
a secret marriage, the marriage is void; but if the wrong name or
description is adopted by accident or innocently, the marriage is good."
Therefore,' added Dr Pendle, placing the paper on one side, 'Mrs Pendle
was not Bosvile's wife on two distinct grounds. Firstly, because his
true wife was alive when he married her. Secondly, because he
fraudulently made her his wife by giving a false name and description.
Regarding my own marriage, it is a good one in law, because Mrs Pendle's
false name of Krant was adopted in all innocence. There is no court in
the realm of Great Britain,' concluded the bishop, with conviction,
'that would not uphold my marriage as true and lawful, and God be
thanked that such is the case!'</p>
<p>'God be thanked!' said Gabriel, in his turn, and said it with heartfelt
earnestness. Graham, bubbling over with pleasure, jumped up in his
restless way, and gave a friendly hand in turn to Dr Pendle and his
wife. 'I congratulate you both, my dear friends,' said he, not without
emotion. 'You have won through your troubles at last, and can now live
in much-deserved peace for the rest of your lives. <i>Deus nobis haec otia
fecit!</i> Hey, bishop, you know the Mantuan. Well, well, you have paid
forfeit to the gods, Pendle, and they will no longer envy your good
fortune, or seek to destroy it.'</p>
<p>'Graham, Graham,' said the bishop, with kindly tolerance, 'always these
Pagan sentiments.'</p>
<p>'Ay! ay! I am a Pagan suckled in a creed outworn,' quoted the doctor,
rubbing his hands. 'Well, we cannot all be bishops.'</p>
<p>'We can all be Christians,' said Baltic, gravely.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</SPAN></span> 'Ah!' retorted
Graham. 'What we should be, and what we are, Mr Baltic, are points
capable of infinite discussion. At present we should be smiling and
thankful, which,' added he, breaking off, 'Miss Whichello is not, I
regret to see.'</p>
<p>'I am thinking of my poor sister,' sobbed the old lady. 'How do I know
but that the villain did not deceive her also by making her his wife
under a false name?'</p>
<p>'No, madam!' interposed Baltic, eagerly. 'Bosvile was the man's true
name, therefore he was legally your sister's husband. I wrote down a
statement by Mother Jael that Jentham was really Pharaoh Bosvile, and,
at my request, she signed the same. Here it is, signed by her and
witnessed by me. I shall give it to you, my lord, that you may lock it
up safely with those certificates.'</p>
<p>'Thank you, Mr Baltic,' said the bishop, taking the slip of paper
tendered by the missionary, 'but I trust that—er—that this woman knows
little of the truth.'</p>
<p>'She knows nothing, my lord, save that Bosvile, for his own purposes,
took the names of Amaru and Jentham at different times. The rogue was
cunning enough to keep his own counsel of his life amongst the Gentiles;
of his marriages, false and true, Mother Jael is ignorant. Set your mind
at rest, sir, she will never trouble you in any way.'</p>
<p>'Good!' said Dr Pendle, drawing a long breath of relief. 'Then, as such
is the case, my friends, I think it advisable that we should keep our
knowledge of Bosvile's iniquities to ourselves. I do not wish my son
George or my daughter Lucy to learn the sad story of the past. Such
knowledge would only vex them unnecessarily.'</p>
<p>'And I'm sure I don't want Mab to know what a villain her father was,'
broke in Miss Whichello. 'Thank God she is unlike him in every way, save
that she takes after him in looks. When Captain Pendle talks of Mab's
rich Eastern beauty, I shiver all over; he little knows that he speaks
the truth, and that Mab has Arab blood in her veins.'</p>
<p>'Not Arab blood, my dear lady,' cried Graham, alertly; 'the gipsies do
not come from Arabia, but, as is believed, from the north of India. They
appeared in Europe about the fifteenth century, calling themselves,
falsely enough,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</SPAN></span> Egyptians. But both Borrow and Leland are agreed
that—'</p>
<p>'I don't want to hear about the gipsies,' interrupted Miss Whichello,
cutting short the doctor's disquisition; 'all I know is, that if Bosvile
or Jentham, or whatever he called himself, is a sample of them, they are
a wicked lot of Moabites. I wonder the bishop lets his son marry the
child of one, I do indeed!'</p>
<p>'Dear Miss Whichello,' said Mrs Pendle, putting her arm round the poor
lady's neck, 'both the bishop and myself are proud that Mab should
become our daughter and George's wife. And after all,' she added
naively, 'neither of them will ever know the truth!'</p>
<p>'I hope not, I'm sure,' wept Miss Whichello.' I buried that miserable
man at my own expense, as he was Mab's father. And I have had a stone
put up to him, with his last name, "Jentham," inscribed on it, so that
no one might ask questions, which would have been asked had I written
his real name.'</p>
<p>'No one will ask questions,' said the bishop, soothingly, 'and if they
do, no answers will be forthcoming; we are all agreed on that point.'</p>
<p>'Quite agreed,' answered Baltic, as spokesman for the rest; 'we shall
let the dead past bury its dead, and God bless the future.'</p>
<p>'Amen!' said Dr Pendle, and bowed his grey head in a silence more
eloquent than words.</p>
<p>So far the rough was made smooth, with as much skill as could be
exercised by mortal brains; but after Dr Pendle had dismissed his
friends there yet remained to him an unpleasant task, the performance of
which, in justice to himself, could not longer be postponed. This was
the punishment and dismissal of Michael Cargrim, who indeed merited
little leniency at the hands of the man whose confidence he had so
shamefully abused. Serpents should be crushed, traitors should be
punished, however unpleasant may be the exercise of the judicial
function; for to permit evil men to continue in their evil-doing is to
encourage vicious habits detrimental to the well-being of humanity. The
more just the judge, the more severe should he be towards such
calculating sinners, lest, infected<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</SPAN></span> by example, mankind should become
even more corrupt than it is. Bishop Pendle was a kindly man, who wished
to think the best of his fellow-creatures, and usually did so; but he
could not blind himself to the base and plotting nature of Cargrim; and,
for the sake of his family, for the well-being of the Church, for the
benefit of the schemer himself, he summoned him to receive rebuke and
punishment. He was not now the patron, the benefactor; but the judge,
the ecclesiastical superior, severe and impartial.</p>
<p>Cargrim obeyed the summons unwillingly enough, as he knew very well that
he was about to receive the righteous reward of his deeds. A day or so
before, when lamenting to Baltic that Dr Pendle had proved innocent, the
man had rebuked him for his baseness, and had given him to understand
that the bishop was fully aware of the contemptible part which he had
acted. Deserted by his former ally, ignorant of Dr Pendle's secret,
convinced of Mosk's guilt, the chaplain was in anything but a pleasant
position. He was reaping what he had so industriously sown; he was
caught in his own snare, and saw no way of defending his conduct. In a
word, he was ruined, and now stood before his injured superior with pale
face and hanging head, ready to be blamed and sentenced without uttering
one word on his own behalf. Nor, had he possessed the insolence to do
so, could he have thought of that one necessary word.</p>
<p>'Michael,' said the bishop, mildly, 'I have been informed by Mr Baltic
that you accused me of a terrible crime. May I ask on what grounds you
did so?'</p>
<p>Cargrim made no reply, but, flushing and paling alternately, looked
shamefaced at the carpet.</p>
<p>'I must answer myself, I see,' continued Dr Pendle, after a short
silence; 'you thought that because I met Jentham on the heath to pay him
some money I murdered him in the viciousness of my heart. Why should you
think so ill of me, my poor boy? Have I not stood in the place of your
father? Have I not treated you as my own son? You know that I have. And
my reward is, that these many weeks you have been secretly trying to
ruin me. Even had I been guilty,' cried the bishop, raising his voice,
'it was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</SPAN></span> not your place to proclaim the shame of one who has cherished
you. If you had such wicked thoughts in your heart, why did you not come
boldly before me and accuse me to my face? I should then have known how
to answer you. I can forgive malice—yes, even malice—but not deceit.
Did you never think of my delicate wife, of my innocent family, when
plotting and scheming my ruin with a smiling face? Alas! alas! Michael,
how could you act in a way so unworthy of a Christian, of a gentleman?'</p>
<p>'What is the use of crying over spilt milk?' said Cargrim, doggedly.
'You have the advantage now and can do what you will.'</p>
<p>'What do you mean by talking like that?' said the bishop, sternly. 'Have
the advantage now indeed; I never lost the advantage, sir, so far as you
are concerned. I did not murder that wretched man, for you know that
Mosk confessed how he shot him for the sake of the money I gave him. I
knew of Jentham in other days, under another name, and when he asked me
for money I gave it to him. My reason for doing so I do not choose to
tell you, Mr Cargrim. It is not your right to question my actions. I am
not only your elder, but your ecclesiastic superior, to whom, as a
priest, you are bound to yield obedience. That obedience I now exact.
You must suffer for your sins.'</p>
<p>'You can't hurt me,' returned Cargrim, with defiance.</p>
<p>'I have no wish to hurt you,' answered the bishop, mildly; 'but for your
own good you must be punished; and punish you I will so far as lies in
my power.'</p>
<p>'I am ready to be punished, my lord; you have the whip hand, so I must
submit.'</p>
<p>'Michael, Michael, harden not your heart! Repent of your wickedness if
it is in you to do so. I cannot spare you if I would. <i>Bonis nocet quis
quis pepercerit malis</i>; that is a true saying which, as a priest, I
should obey, and which I intend to obey if only for your own benefit.
After punishment comes repentance and amendment.'</p>
<p>Cargrim scowled. 'It is no use talking further, my lord,' he said
roughly. 'As I have acted like a fool, I must take a fool's wages.'</p>
<p>'You are indeed a fool,' rejoined the bishop, coldly, 'and an ungrateful
fool to boot, or you would not thus<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</SPAN></span> answer one who has your interest at
heart. But as you take up such a position, I shall be brief. You must
leave my house at once, and, for very shame, I should advise you to
leave the Church.'</p>
<p>'Leave the Church?' echoed Cargrim, in dismay.</p>
<p>'I have said it. As a bishop, I cannot entrust to a guilty man the care
of immortal souls.'</p>
<p>'Guilty? I am guilty of nothing.'</p>
<p>'Do you call malice, falsehood, dissimulation nothing?'</p>
<p>'You cannot unfrock me for what I have done,' said Cargrim, evading a
direct reply. 'You may have the will, but you have not the power.'</p>
<p>Dr Pendle looked at him in amazement 'Yours is indeed an evil heart,
when you can use such language to me,' he said sorrowfully. 'I see that
it is useless to argue with you in your present fallen condition.'</p>
<p>'Fallen condition, my lord?'</p>
<p>'Yes, poor lad! fallen not only as a priest, but as a man. However, I
shall plead no more. Go where you will, do what you will, although I
advise you once more not to insult an offended God by offering prayers
for others which you need for yourself. Yet, as I am unwilling that you
should starve, I shall instruct my banker in London to pay you a monthly
sum of money until you are beyond want. Now go, Michael. I am bitterly
disappointed in you; and by your own acts you have put it out of my
power to keep you by my side. Go! Repent—and pray.'</p>
<p>The chaplain, with a look of malice on his face, walked, or rather
slunk, towards the door. 'You magnify my paltry sins,' he flung back.
'What of your own great ones?'</p>
<p>'Dare you, wretched man, to speak against your spiritual head!'
thundered the bishop, starting to his feet, vested with the imperious
authority of the Church. 'Go! Quit my sight, lest I cast you out from
amongst us! Go!'</p>
<p>Before the blaze of that righteous wrath, Cargrim, livid and trembling,
crept away like a beaten hound.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</SPAN></span></p>
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