Page:Orley Farm (Serial Volume 12).pdf/19

Rh these questions. Must he tell his daughter? Must he banish this criminal at once from his house? Every one now had been told of his intended marriage; every one had been told through Lord Alston, Mr. Furnival, and such as they. That at any rate must now be untold. And would it be possible that she should remain there, living with them at The Cleeve, while all this was being done? In truth he did not know how to speak. He had not hardness of heart to pronounce her doom.

'Of course I shall leave the house,' she said, with something almost of pride in her voice. 'If there be no place open to me but a gaol I will do that. Perhaps I had better go now and get my things removed at once. Say a word of love for me to her;—a word of respectful love.' And she moved as though she were going to the door.

But he would not permit her to leave him thus. He could not let the poor, crushed, broken creature wander forth in her agony to bruise herself at every turn, and to be alone in her despair. She was still the woman whom he had loved; and, over and beyond that, was she not the woman who had saved him from a terrible downfall by rushing herself into utter ruin for his sake? He must take some steps in her behalf—if he could only resolve what those steps should be. She was moving to the door, but stopping her, he took her by the hand. 'You did it,' he said, 'and he, your husband, knew nothing of it?' The fact itself was so wonderful, that he had hardly as yet made even that all his own.

'I did it, and he knew nothing of it. I will go now, Sir Peregrine; I am strong enough.'

'But where will you go?'

'Ah me, where shall I go?' And she put the hand which was at liberty up to her temple, brushing back her hair as though she might thus collect her thoughts. 'Where shall I go? But he does not know it yet. I will go now to Orley Farm. When must he be told? Tell me that. When must he know it?'

'No, Lady Mason; you cannot go there to-day. It's very hard to say what you had better do.'

'Very hard,' she echoed, shaking her head.

'But you must remain here at present;—at The Cleeve I mean; at any rate for to-day. I will think about it. I will endeavour to think what may be the best.'

'But—we cannot meet now. She and I;—Mrs. Orme?' And then again he was silent; for in truth the difficulties were too many for him. Might it not be best that she should counterfeit illness and be confined to her own room? But then he was averse to recommend any counterfeit; and if Mrs. Orme did not go to her in her assumed illness, the counterfeit would utterly fail of effect in the household. And then, should he tell Mrs. Orme? The weight