not the time,--not now, during the trial. Had he known
it before--"

"It would keep him away from the court."

"Yes, and I should never see him again! What will he do when he hears
it? Perhaps it would be better that he should go without seeing me."

"He would not do that."

"It would be better. If they take me to the prison, I will never see
him again. His eyes would kill me. Do you ever watch him and see the
pride that there is in his eye? He has never yet known what disgrace
means; and now I, his mother, have brought him to this!"

It was all in vain as far as that night was concerned. Lady Mason
would give no such permission. But Mrs. Orme did exact from her a
kind of promise that Lucius should be told on the next evening, if it
then appeared, from what Mr. Aram should say, that the result of the
trial was likely to be against them.

Lucius Mason spent his evening alone; and though he had as yet heard
none of the truth, his mind was not at ease, nor was he happy at
heart. Though he had no idea of his mother's guilt, he did conceive
that after this trial it would be impossible that they should remain
at Orley Farm. His mother's intended marriage with Sir Peregrine, and
then the manner in which that engagement had been broken off; the
course of the trial, and its celebrity; the enmity of Dockwrath; and
lastly, his own inability to place himself on terms of friendship
with those people who were still his mother's nearest friends, made
him feel that in any event it would be well for them to change their
residence. What could life do for him there at Orley Farm, after all
that had passed? He had gone to Liverpool and bought guano, and now
the sacks were lying in his barn unopened. He had begun to drain, and
the ugly unfinished lines of earth were lying across his fields. He
had no further interest in it, and felt that he could no longer go to
work on that ground as though he were in truth its master.

But then, as he thought of his future hopes, his place of residence
and coming life, there was one other beyond himself and his mother
to whom his mind reverted. What would Sophia wish that he should
do?--his own Sophia,--she who had promised him that her heart should
be with his through all the troubles of this trial? Before he went
to bed that night he wrote to Sophia, and told her what were his
troubles and what his hopes. "This will be over in two days more,"
he said, "and then I will come to you. You will see m