in your estimation."

"There is no fear of that, father."

"Will you believe me when I assure you that my great object in doing
this is to befriend a good and worthy woman whom I regard as ill
used--beyond all ill usage of which I have hitherto known anything?"

She then assured him that she did so believe, and she assured him
truly; after that she left him and went away to send in Lady Mason
for her interview. In the mean time Sir Peregrine got up and stood
with his back to the fire. He would have been glad that the coming
scene could be over, and yet I should be wronging him to say that
he was afraid of it. There would be a pleasure to him in telling
her that he loved her so dearly and trusted her with such absolute
confidence. There would be a sort of pleasure to him in speaking even
of her sorrow, and in repeating his assurance that he would fight the
battle for her with all the means at his command. And perhaps also
there would be some pleasure in the downcast look of her eye, as she
accepted the tender of his love. Something of that pleasure he had
known already. And then he remembered the other alternative. It was
quite upon the cards that she should decline his offer. He did not by
any means shut his eyes to that. Did she do so, his friendship should
by no means be withdrawn from her. He would be very careful from the
onset that she should understand so much as that. And then he heard
the light footsteps in the hall; the gentle hand was raised to the
door, and Lady Mason was standing in the room.

"Dear Lady Mason," he said, meeting her half way across the room, "it
is very kind of you to come to me when I send for you in this way."

"It would be my duty to come to you, if it were half across the
kingdom;--and my pleasure also."

"Would it?" said he, looking into her face with all the wishfulness
of a young lover. From that moment she knew what was coming. Strange
as was the destiny which was to be offered to her at this period of
her life, yet she foresaw clearly that the offer was to be made. What
she did not foresee, what she could not foretell, was the answer
which she might make to it!

"It would certainly be my sweetest pleasure to send for you if you
were away from us,--to send for you or to follow you," said he.

"I do not know how to make return for all your kind regard to me;--to
you and to dear Mrs. Orme."

"Call her Edith, will you not? You did so call her once."

"I call her so often whe