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 to Sir Peregrine. 'Poor soul, poor soul!' he said, as Mrs. Orme began her story. 'Her son knows it all then now.'

'I told him last night,—with her consent; so that he should not go into the court to-day. It would have been very bad, you know, if they had—found her guilty.'

'Yes, yes; very bad—very bad indeed. Poor creature! And so you told him. How did he bear it?'

'On the whole, well. At first he would not believe me.'

'As for me, I could not have done it. I could not have told him.'

'Yes, sir, you would;—you would, if it had been required of you.'

'I think it would have killed me. But a woman can do things for which a man's courage would never be sufficient. And he bore it manfully.'

'He was very stern.'

'Yes;—and he will be stern. Poor soul!—I pity her from my very heart. But he will not desert her; he will do his duty by her.'

'I am sure he will. In that respect he is a good young man.'

'Yes, my dear. He is one of those who seem by nature created to bear adversity. No trouble or sorrow would I think crush him. But had prosperity come to him, it would have made him odious to all around him. You were not present when they met?'

'No—I thought it better to leave them.'

'Yes, yes. And he will give up the place at once.'

'To-morrow he will do so. In that at any rate he has true spirit. To-morrow early they will go to London, and she I suppose will never see Orley Farm again.' And then Mrs. Orme gave Sir Peregrine that last message.—'I tell you everything as she told me.' Mrs. Orme said, seeing how deeply he was affected. 'Perhaps I am wrong.'

'No, no, no,' he said.

'Coming at such a moment, her words seemed to be almost sacred.'

'They are sacred. They shall be sacred. Poor soul, poor soul!'

'She did a great crime.'

'Yes, yes.'

'But if a crime can be forgiven,—can be excused on account of its motives'

'It cannot, my dear. Nothing can be forgiven on that ground.'

'No; we know that; we all feel sure of that. But yet how can one help loving her? For myself, I shall love her always.'

'And I also love her.' And then the old man made his confession. 'I loved her well;—better than I had ever thought to love any one again, but you and Perry. I loved her very dearly, and felt that I should have been proud to have called her my wife. How beautiful she was in her sorrow, when we thought that her life had been pure and good!'