s solemn
mourning if she were innocent. Had she been esteemed as innocent, Sir
Peregrine was not the man to believe that any jury of his countrymen
could find her guilty. Had this been the reason for that sudden
change,--for that breaking off of the intended marriage? Even
Peregrine, as he went down the steps after his mother, had begun to
suspect the truth; and we may say that he was the last within all
that household who did so. During the last week every servant at The
Cleeve had whispered to her fellow-servant that Lady Mason had forged
the will.

"I shall be near you, mother," said Peregrine as he put his hand into
the carriage; "remember that. The judge and the other fellows will
go out in the middle of the day to get a glass of wine. I'll have
something for both of you near the court."

Poor Mrs. Orme as she pressed her son's hand felt much relieved by
the assurance. It was not that she feared anything, but she was going
to a place that was absolutely new to her,--to a place in which the
eyes of many would be fixed on her,--to a place in which the eyes of
all would be fixed on the companion with whom she would be joined.
Her heart almost sank within her as the carriage drove away. She
would be alone till she reached Orley Farm, and there she would take
up not only Lady Mason, but Mr. Aram also. How would it be with them
in that small carriage while Mr. Aram was sitting opposite to them?
Mrs. Orme by no means regretted this act of kindness which she was
doing, but she began to feel that the task was not a light one. As
to Mr. Aram's presence in the carriage, she need have been under no
uneasiness. He understood very well when his presence was desirable,
and also when it was not desirable.

When she arrived at the door of Orley Farm house she found Mr. Aram
waiting there to receive her. "I am sorry to say," said he, raising
his hat, "that Lady Mason's son is to accompany us."

"She did not tell me," said Mrs. Orme, not understanding why this
should make him sorry.

"It was arranged between them last night, and it is very unfortunate.
I cannot explain this to her; but perhaps--"

"Why is it unfortunate, sir?"

"Things will be said which--which--which would drive me mad if they
were said about my mother." And immediately there was a touch of
sympathy between the high-bred lady and the Old Bailey Jew lawyer.

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Orme. "It will be dreadful."

"And then if they find her guilty! It may be s