ot keep you up all night," said Lady Mason.
"Oh, I do so like you to be here," said the other. Then again she
took hold of her arm, and the two women kissed each other.
"But, Edith," said the other, "I came in here to-night with a
purpose. I have something that I wish to say to you. Can you listen
to me?"
"Oh yes," said Mrs. Orme; "surely."
"Has your son been talking to you about--about what was said between
him and me the other day? I am sure he has, for I know he tells you
everything,--as he ought to do."
"Yes, he did speak to me," said Mrs. Orme, almost trembling with
anxiety.
"I am so glad, for now it will be easier for me to tell you. And
since that I have seen Mr. Furnival, and he says the same. I tell you
because you are so good and so loving to me. I will keep nothing from
you; but you must not tell Sir Peregrine that I talked to Mr.
Furnival about this."
Mrs. Orme gave the required promise, hardly thinking at the moment
whether or no she would be guilty of any treason against Sir
Peregrine in doing so.
"I think I should have said nothing to him, though he is so very old
a friend, had not Mr. Orme--"
"You mean Peregrine?"
"Yes; had not he been so--so earnest about it. He told me that if I
married Sir Peregrine I should be doing a cruel injury to him--to his
grandfather."
"He should not have said that."
"Yes, Edith,--if he thinks it. He told me that I should be turning
all his friends against him. So I promised him that I would speak to
Sir Peregrine, and break it off if it be possible."
"He told me that."
"And then I spoke to Mr. Furnival, and he told me that I should be
blamed by all the world if I were to marry him. I cannot tell you all
he said, but he said this: that if--if--"
"If what, dear?"
"If in the court they should say--"
"Say what?"
"Say that I did this thing,--then Sir Peregrine would be crushed, and
would die with a broken heart."
"But they cannot say that;--it is impossible. You do not think it
possible that they can do so?" And then again she took hold of Lady
Mason's arm, and looked up anxiously, into her face. She looked up
anxiously, not suspecting anything, not for a moment presuming it
possible that such a verdict could be justly given, but in order that
she might see how far the fear of a fate so horrible was operating on
her friend. Lady Mason's face was pale and woe-worn, but not more so
than was now customary with her.
"One cannot say wha
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