tone
after the violence of her last words, "it seems to me that I care
more for his soul than for my own. For myself I can bear even that.
But if he were a castaway--!"

I will not attempt to report the words that passed between them for
the next half-hour, for they concerned a matter which I may not dare
to handle too closely in such pages as these. But Mrs. Orme still
knelt there at her feet, pressing Lady Mason's hands, pressing
against her knees, as with all the eagerness of true affection she
endeavoured to bring her to a frame of mind that would admit of some
comfort. But it all ended in this:--Let everything be told to Lucius,
so that the first step back to honesty might be taken,--and then let
them trust to Him whose mercy can ever temper the wind to the shorn
lamb.

But, as Lady Mason had once said to herself, repentance will not come
with a word. "I cannot tell him," she said at last. "It is a thing
impossible. I should die at his feet before the words were spoken."

"I will do it for you," said Mrs. Orme, offering from pure charity
to take upon herself a task perhaps as heavy as any that a human
creature could perform. "I will tell him."

"No, no," screamed Lady Mason, taking Mrs. Orme by both her arms as
she spoke. "You will not do so: say that you will not. Remember your
promise to me. Remember why it is that you know it all yourself."

"I will not, surely, unless you bid me," said Mrs. Orme.

"No, no; I do not bid you. Mind, I do not bid you. I will not have it
done. Better anything than that, while it may yet be avoided. I have
your promise; have I not?"

"Oh, yes; of course I should not do it unless you told me." And then,
after some further short stay, during which but little was said, Mrs.
Orme got up to go.

"You will come to me to-morrow," said Lady Mason.

"Yes, certainly," said Mrs. Orme.

"Because I feared that I had offended you."

"Oh, no; I will take no offence from you."

"You should not, for you know what I have to bear. You know, and no
one else knows. Sir Peregrine does not know. He cannot understand.
But you know and understand it all. And, Mrs. Orme, what you do now
will be counted to you for great treasure,--for very great treasure.
You are better than the Samaritan, for he went on his way. But you
will stay till the last. Yes; I know you will stay." And the poor
creature kissed her only friend;--kissed her hands and her forehead
and her breast. Then Mrs. Orme went withou