o London, and she I suppose will never
see Orley Farm again." And then Mrs. Orme gave Sir Peregrine that
last message.--"I tell you everything as she told me," Mrs. Orme
said, seeing how deeply he was affected. "Perhaps I am wrong."

"No, no, no," he said.

"Coming at such a moment, her words seemed to be almost sacred."

"They are sacred. They shall be sacred. Poor soul, poor soul!"

"She did a great crime."

"Yes, yes."

"But if a crime can be forgiven,--can be excused on account of its
motives--"

"It cannot, my dear. Nothing can be forgiven on that ground."

"No; we know that; we all feel sure of that. But yet how can one help
loving her? For myself, I shall love her always."

"And I also love her." And then the old man made his confession.
"I loved her well;--better than I had ever thought to love any one
again, but you and Perry. I loved her very dearly, and felt that I
should have been proud to have called her my wife. How beautiful she
was in her sorrow, when we thought that her life had been pure and
good!"

"And it had been good,--for many years past."

"No; for the stolen property was still there. But yet how graceful
she was, and how well her sorrows sat upon her! What might she not
have done had the world used her more kindly, and not sent in her
way that sore temptation! She was a woman for a man to have loved to
madness."

"And yet how little can she have known of love!"

"I loved her." And as the old man said so he rose to his feet with
some show of his old energy. "I loved her,--with all my heart! It is
foolish for an old man so to say; but I did love her; nay, I love her
still. But that I knew that it would be wrong,--for your sake, and
for Perry's--" And then he stopped himself, as though he would fain
hear what she might say to him.

"Yes; it is all over now," she said in the softest, sweetest, lowest
voice. She knew that she was breaking down a last hope, but she knew
also that that hope was vain. And then there was silence in the room
for some ten minutes' space.

"It is all over," he then said, repeating her last words.

"But you have us still,--Perry and me. Can any one love you better
than we do?" And she got up and went over to him and stood by him,
and leaned upon him.

"Edith, my love, since you came to my house there has been an angel
in it watching over me. I shall know that always; and when I turn
my face to the wall, as I soon shall, that shall be my last earthly
t