r a
single word in her favour?

In these days Mrs. Orme went daily to the Farm. Indeed, she never
missed a day from that on which Lady Mason left The Cleeve up to the
time of the trial. It seemed to Sir Peregrine that his daughter's
affection for this woman had grown with the knowledge of her guilt;
but, as I have said before, no discussion on the matter now took
place between them. Mrs. Orme would generally take some opportunity
of saying that she had been at Orley Farm; but that was all.

Sir Peregrine during this time never left the house once, except for
morning service on Sundays. He hung his hat up on its accustomed peg
when he returned from that ill-omened visit to Mr. Round, and did not
move it for days, ay, for weeks,--except on Sunday mornings. At first
his groom would come to him, suggesting to him that he should ride,
and the woodman would speak to him about the young coppices; but
after a few days they gave up their efforts. His grandson also strove
to take him out, speaking to him more earnestly than the servants
would do, but it was of no avail. Peregrine, indeed, gave up the
attempt sooner, for to him his grandfather did in some sort confess
his own weakness. "I have had a blow," said he; "Peregrine, I have
had a blow. I am too old to bear up against it;--too old and too
weak." Peregrine knew that he alluded in some way to that proposed
marriage, but he was quite in the dark as to the manner in which his
grandfather had been affected by it.

"People think nothing of that now, sir," said he, groping in the dark
as he strove to administer consolation.

"People will think of it;--and I think of it. But never mind, my boy.
I have lived my life, and am contented with it. I have lived my life,
and have great joy that such as you are left behind to take my place.
If I had really injured you I should have broken my heart--have
broken my heart."

Peregrine of course assured him that let what would come to him the
pride which he had in his grandfather would always support him. "I
don't know anybody else that I could be so proud of," said Peregrine;
"for nobody else that I see thinks so much about other people. And I
always was, even when I didn't seem to think much about it;--always."

Poor Peregrine! Circumstances had somewhat altered him since that
day, now not more than six months ago, in which he had pledged
himself to abandon the delights of Cowcross Street. As long as there
was a hope for him with Ma