rs. Orme
could hardly continue to hold her hands.

"You are ill with the cold," she said. "Come with me, Lady Mason, you
shall not stay here longer."

Lady Mason then permitted herself to be led out of the room, and the
two went quickly down the passage to the head of the front stairs,
and from thence to Mrs. Orme's room. In crossing the house they had
seen no one and been seen by no one; and Lady Mason when she came to
the door hurried in, that she might again hide herself in security
for the moment. As soon as the door was closed Mrs. Orme placed her
in an arm-chair which she wheeled up to the front of the fire, and
seating herself on a stool at the poor sinner's feet, chafed her
hands within her own. She took away the shawl and made her stretch
out her feet towards the fire, and thus seated close to her, she
spoke no word for the next half-hour as to the terrible fact that
had become known to her. Then, on a sudden, as though the ice of her
heart had thawed from the warmth of the other's kindness, Lady Mason
burst into a flood of tears, and flinging herself upon her friend's
neck and bosom begged with earnest piteousness to be forgiven.

And Mrs. Orme did forgive her. Many will think that she was wrong to
do so, and I fear it must be acknowledged that she was not strong
minded. By forgiving her I do not mean that she pronounced absolution
for the sin of past years, or that she endeavoured to make the
sinner think that she was no worse for her sin. Mrs. Orme was a good
churchwoman but not strong, individually, in points of doctrine. All
that she left mainly to the woman's conscience and her own dealings
with her Saviour,--merely saying a word of salutary counsel as to a
certain spiritual pastor who might be of aid. But Mrs. Orme forgave
her,--as regarded herself. She had already, while all this was
unknown, taken this woman to her heart as pure and good. It now
appeared that the woman had not been pure, had not been good!--And
then she took her to her heart again! Criminal as the woman was,
disgraced and debased, subject almost to the heaviest penalties of
outraged law and justice, a felon against whom the actual hands of
the law's myrmidons would probably soon prevail, a creature doomed to
bear the scorn of the lowest of her fellow-creatures,--such as she
was, this other woman, pure and high, so shielded from the world's
impurity that nothing ignoble might touch her,--this lady took her
to her heart again and pro