ribution could be done! "Ah, me! ah, me!" he said, as
he thought of all this,--speaking to himself, as though he were
unconscious of his grandson's presence. "Poor woman! poor woman!"
Then Peregrine felt sure that she had been guilty, and was sure also
that his grandfather was aware of it.

"Will you come into the other room, sir?" he said.

"Yes, yes; if you like it." And then the one leg fell from the other,
and he rose to do his grandson's bidding. To him now and henceforward
one room was much the same as another.

In the mean time the party bound for Orley Farm had reached that
place, and to them also came the necessity of wearing through that
tedious evening. On the mind of Lucius Mason not even yet had a
shadow of suspicion fallen. To him, in spite of it all, his mother
was still pure. But yet he was stern to her, and his manner was very
harsh. It may be that had such suspicion crossed his mind he would
have been less stern, and his manner more tender. As it was he could
understand nothing that was going on, and almost felt that he was
kept in the dark at his mother's instance. Why was it that a man
respected by all the world, such as Sir Richard Leatherham, should
rise in court and tell such a tale as that against his mother; and
that the power of answering that tale on his mother's behalf should
be left to such another man as Mr. Chaffanbrass? Sir Richard had told
his story plainly, but with terrible force; whereas Chaffanbrass had
contented himself with brow-beating another lawyer with the lowest
quirks of his cunning. Why had not some one been in court able to use
the language of passionate truth and ready to thrust the lie down the
throats of those who told it?

Tea and supper had been prepared for them, and they sat down
together; but the nature of the meal may be imagined. Lady Mason had
striven with terrible effort to support herself during the day, and
even yet she did not give way. It was quite as necessary that she
should restrain herself before her son as before all those others
who had gazed at her in court. And she did sustain herself. She took
a knife and fork in her hand and ate a few morsels. She drank her
cup of tea, and remembering that there in that house she was still
hostess, she made some slight effort to welcome her guest. "Surely
after such a day of trouble you will eat something," she said to her
friend. To Mrs. Orme it was marvellous that the woman should even
be alive,--let alone t