before, and he began to feel that he was not approaching the object
which he had in view. "Edith," at last he said abruptly, "I love her
with my whole heart. I would fain make her--my wife." Sir Peregrine
Orme had never in his course through life failed in anything for lack
of courage; and when the idea came home to him that he was trembling
at the task which he had imposed on himself, he dashed at it at once.
It is so that forlorn hopes are led, and become not forlorn; it is so
that breaches are taken.

"Your wife!" said Mrs. Orme. She would not have breathed a syllable
to pain him if she could have helped it, but the suddenness of the
announcement overcame her for a moment.

"Yes, Edith, my wife. Let us discuss the matter before you condemn
it. But in the first place I would have you to understand this--I
will not marry her if you say that it will make you unhappy. I have
not spoken to her as yet, and she knows nothing of this project." Sir
Peregrine, it may be presumed, had not himself thought much of that
kiss which he had given her. "You," he continued to say, "have given
up your whole life to me. You are my angel. If this thing will make
you unhappy it shall not be done."

Sir Peregrine had not so considered it, but with such a woman as Mrs.
Orme this was, of course, the surest way to overcome opposition. On
her own behalf, thinking only of herself, she would stand in the
way of nothing that could add to Sir Peregrine's happiness. But
nevertheless the idea was strong in her mind that such a marriage
would be imprudent. Sir Peregrine at present stood high before the
world. Would he stand so high if he did this thing? His gray hair
and old manly bearing were honoured and revered by all who knew him.
Would this still be so if he made himself the husband of Lady Mason?
She loved so dearly, she valued so highly the honour that was paid
to him! She was so proud of her own boy in that he was the grandson
of so perfect a gentleman! Would not this be a sad ending to such
a career? Such were the thoughts which ran through her mind at the
moment.

"Make me unhappy!" she said getting up and going over to him. "It is
your happiness of which I would think. Will it make you more happy?"

"It will enable me to befriend her more effectually."

"But, dearest father, you must be the first consideration to us,--to
me and Peregrine. Will it make you more happy?"

"I think it will," he answered slowly.

"Then I, for one, wil