se courts of
law if it be not to discover the truth, and make it plain to the
light of day?" Poor Sir Peregrine! His innocence in this respect was
perhaps beautiful, but it was very simple. Mr. Aram, could he have
been induced to speak out his mind plainly, would have expressed,
probably, a different opinion.

"But she escaped before," said Mrs. Orme, who was clearly at present
on the same side with Mr. Aram.

"Yes; she did;--by perjury, Edith. And now the penalty of that
further crime awaits her. There was an old poet who said that the
wicked man rarely escapes at last. I believe in my heart that he
spoke the truth."

"Father, that old poet knew nothing of our faith."

Sir Peregrine could not stop to explain, even if he knew how to do
so, that the old poet spoke of punishment in this world, whereas the
faith on which his daughter relied is efficacious for pardon beyond
the grave. It would be much, ay, in one sense everything, if Lady
Mason could be brought to repent of the sin she had committed; but
no such repentance would stay the bitterness of Joseph Mason or
of Samuel Dockwrath. If the property were at once restored, then
repentance might commence. If the property were at once restored,
then the trial might be stayed. It might be possible that Mr. Round
might so act. He felt all this, but he could not argue on it. "I
think, my dear," he said, "that I had better see Mr. Round."

"But you will not tell him?" said Mrs. Orme, sharply.

"No; I am not authorised to do that."

"But he will entice it from you! He is a lawyer, and he will wind
anything out from a plain, chivalrous man of truth and honour."

"My dear, Mr. Round I believe is a good man."

"But if he asks you the question, what will you say?"

"I will tell him to ask me no such question."

"Oh, father, be careful. For her sake be careful. How is it that you
know the truth;--or that I know it? She told it here because in that
way only could she save you from that marriage. Father, she has
sacrificed herself for--for us."

Sir Peregrine when this was said to him got up from his chair and
walked away to the window. He was not angry with her that she so
spoke to him. Nay; he acknowledged inwardly the truth of her words,
and loved her for her constancy. But nevertheless they were very
bitter. How had it come to pass that he was thus indebted to so deep
a criminal? What had he done for her but good?

"Do not go from me," she said, following him. "Do