thinking how he would meet his friends, and how he would carry himself before his old servants.
Old men have made more silly marriages than this which he then desired. Gentlemen such as Sir Peregrine in age and station have married their housemaids,—have married young girls of eighteen years of age,—have done so and faced their friends and servants afterwards. The bride that he proposed to himself was a lady, an old friend, a woman over forty, and one whom by such a marriage he could greatly assist in her deep sorrow. Why should he not do it?
After much of such thoughts as these, extended over nearly a week, he resolved to speak his mind to Mrs. Orme. If it were to be done it should be done at once. The incredulous unromantic readers of this age would hardly believe me if I said that his main object was to render assistance to Lady Mason in her difficulty; but so he assured himself, and so he believed. This assistance to be of true service must be given at once;—and having so resolved he sent for Mrs. Orme into the library.
'Edith, my darling,' he said, taking her hand and pressing it between both his own as was often the wont with him in his more affectionate moods. 'I want to speak to you—on business that concerns me nearly; may perhaps concern us all nearly. Can you give me half an hour?'
'Of course I can—what is it,sir? I am a bad hand at business; but you know that.'
'Sit down, dear; there; sit there, and I will sit here. As to this business, no one can counsel me as well as you.'
'Dearest father, I should be a poor councillor in anything.'
'Not in this, Edith. It is about Lady Mason that I would speak to you. We both love her dearly; do we not?'
'I do.'
'And are glad to have her here?'
'Oh, so glad. When this trial is only over, it will be so sweet, to have her for a neighbour. We really know her now. And it will be so pleasant to see much of her.'
There was nothing discouraging in this, but still the words in some slight degree grated against Sir Peregrine's feelings. At the present moment he did not wish to think of Lady Mason as living at Orley Farm, and would have preferred that his daughter-in-law should have spoken of her as being there, at The Cleeve.
'Yes; we know her now,' he said. 'And believe me in this, Edith; no knowledge obtained of a friend in happiness is at all equal to that which is obtained in sorrow. Had Lady Mason been prosperous, had she never become subject to the malice and avarice of wicked people, I should never have loved her as I do love her.'
'Nor should I, father.'
