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184 such grief as this.' But for awhile she was quite unable to answer. The flood-gates were at length opened, and she could not restrain the torrent of her sobbings.

'You do not understand how weak a woman can be,' she said at last.

But in truth he understood nothing of a woman's strength. He sat down by her, now and then taking her by the hand when she would leave it to him, and in his way endeavoured to comfort her. All comfort, we may say, was out of the question; but by degrees she again became tranquil. 'It shall be to-morrow as you will have it. You will not object to her being with me also?'

He did object, but he could not say so. He would have much preferred to be the only friend near to her, but he felt that he could not deny her the solace of a woman's aid and a woman's countenance. 'Oh no,' he said, 'if you wish it.' He would have found it impossible to define even to himself the reason for his dislike to any assistance coming from the family of the Ormes; but the feeling was there, strong within his bosom.

'And when this is over, mother, we will go away,' he said. 'If you would wish to live elsewhere, I will sell the property. It will be better perhaps after all that has passed. We will go abroad for a while.'

She could make no answer to this except pressing his hand. Ah, if he had been told—if she had allowed Mrs. Orme to do that kindness for her, how much better for her would it now have been! Sell the property! Ah, me! Were they not words of fearful sound in her ears,—words of terrible import?

'Yes, it shall be so,' she said, putting aside that last proposition of his. 'We will go together to-morrow. Mr. Aram said that he would sit at my side, but he cannot object to your being there between us.' Mr. Aram's name was odious to Lucius Mason. His close presence would be odious to him. But he felt that he could urge nothing against an arrangement that had now become necessary. Mr. Aram, with all his quibbles, had been engaged, and the trial must now be carried through with all the Aram tactics.

After that Lucius left his mother, and took himself out into the dark night, walking up and down on the road between his house and the outer gate, endeavouring to understand why his mother should be so despondent. That she must fear the result of the trial, he thought, was certain, but he could not bring himself to have any such fear. As to any suspicion of her guilt,—no such idea had even for one moment cast a shadow upon his peace of mind.