I'm afraid there's no getting round the fact that this afternoon I acted a lie. And yet, on the whole, my conscience is easy."
He sipped his wine, and went on meditatively—
"Morals have their court of equity as well as the law of the land: and with us"—the Vicar was an old-fashioned Churchman—"that court is the private conscience. In this affair you insisted on putting your conscience into my hands. Well, I took the responsibility, and charge myself with any wrong you have committed, letting your confidence stand to your credit, as well as the service you have done for me—and another. Do you know the grey marble tablet on the south wall of the church—the Nerbuddha monument?"
I nodded.
"'Sacred to the memory of Lieutenant-Colonel Victor Stanhope, C.B., and 105 Officers and Men of Her Majesty's 2-th Regiment of Foot, lost in the wreck of the Nerbuddha, East Indiaman, on Menawhidden, January 15th, 1857.…'" Then follows a list of the officers. Underneath, if you remember, is a separate slab to the officers and crew of the Nerbuddha, who behaved admirably, all the senior officers keeping order to the last and going down with the ship."
I nodded again, for I knew the inscriptions pretty well by heart.
"The wreck happened in the first winter of my incumbency here. Then, as now, I had one pupil
