'Very terrible! But Mr. Furnival———'
'Edith, if it comes to that, she will be condemned. Mr. Furnival is a lawyer and will not say so; but from his countenance, when he speaks of her, I know that he expects it!'
'Oh, father, do not say so.'
'But if it is so———. My love, what is the purport of these courts of law if it be not to discover the truth, and make it plain to the light of day?' Poor Sir Peregrine! His innocence in this respect was perhaps beautiful, but it was very simple. Mr. Aram, could he have been induced to speak out his mind plainly, would have expressed, probably, a different opinion.
'But she escaped before,' said Mrs. Orme, who was clearly at present on the same side with Mr. Aram.
'Yes; she did;—by perjury, Edith. And now the penalty of that further crime awaits her. There was an old poet who said that the wicked man rarely escapes at last. I believe in my heart that he spoke the truth.'
'Father, that old poet knew nothing of our faith.'
Sir Peregrine could not stop to explain, even if he knew how to do so, that the old poet spoke of punishment in this world, whereas the faith on which his daughter relied is efficacious for pardon beyond the grave. It would be much, ay, in one sense everything, if Lady Mason could be brought to repent of the sin she had committed; but no such repentance would stay the bitterness of Joseph Mason or of Samuel Dockwrath. If the property were at once restored, then repentance might commence. If the property were at once restored, then the trial might be stayed. It might be possible that Mr. Round might so act. He felt all this, but he could not argue on it. 'I think, my dear,' he said, 'that I had better see Mr. Round.'
'But you will not tell him?' said Mrs. Orme, sharply.
'No; I am not authorized to do that.'
'But he will entice it from you! He is a lawyer, and he will wind anything out from a plain, chivalrous man of truth and honour.'
'My dear, Mr. Round I believe is a good man.'
'But if he asks you the question, what will you say?'
'I will tell him to ask me no such question.'
'Oh, father, be careful. For her sake be careful. How is it that you know the truth;—or that I know it? She told it here because in that way only could she save you from that marriage. Father, she has sacrificed herself for—for us.'
Sir Peregrine when this was said to him got up from his chair and walked away to the window. He was not angry with her that she so spoke to him. Nay; he acknowledged inwardly the truth of her words, and loved her for her constancy. But nevertheless
