"His age does not prevent him being her lawful husband. Now as you are at it, you may as well confess whether Mrs. Murray reciprocates this much-to-be-regretted passion."
"Well, you won't get absolution from me. You are a bad as well as an unfortunate man, Mr. Augustus Graham."
"If you only knew everything you would, I am sure, think differently of both of us."
"Doubtful, very; the lady is married. What license have you to interfere with her husband's happiness? No sophistry will make me think that marital bonds should not be respected. I have seen too many lives and promising careers blasted by such impudent intrigues."
"Don't judge us so harshly without a hearing."
"Do you recollect your putting a peculiar question to me one day some months ago, and asking what I would do under the embarrassing circumstances? I see now you were the _A_ of this skeleton case, and Mrs. Murray the _B_. What was my answer? Did I not tell you it was the duty of any man, calling himself a gentleman, to hold his friend's wife sacred?"
"You used to be clever in getting out of as well as into scrapes, but you seem to be caught fast this time. I am really sorry, for the sake of old school days, that you must go to the wall. Is there nothing I can do for you?"
"Yes, you can lend me--your opera glasses."
"Is that all? Keeping it up to the end--going to the theatre?"
"Yes, will you come? I have a box; I am taking Mr. and Mrs. Murray."
"I am engaged this evening, and after what you have disclosed to me I would not feel comfortable. Take the glasses, and go your wicked way."
Before I saw those glasses again a dreadful calamity occurred. The Theatre Royal to which my friend and Mrs. Murray went was burned down, and many lives were lost. It was impossible to recognize the charred bodies, but as they were never seen again the presumption was that the two lovers perished in the flames. A pair of opera glasses much damaged by fire were shown to me by the Procurator Fiscal, and I proved by the initial that they were my property. I need not say that I carefully preserved them. Poor Murray, who did not accompany his wife, became distracted over his loss, and only lived two or three years after her unfortunate death. She was an exceedingly pretty and amiable lady, and however much her affection for my friend was to be deplored, no one could help feeling sorry for her frightful end.