said, preparing to retreat. 'I did not know that you were together.'

'Do not go, Edith,' said the old man. 'Peregrine, put a chair for your mother. I have told him that ail this is over now between me and Lady Mason.'

She trembled as she heard the words, for it seemed to her that there must be danger now in even speaking of Lady Mason,—danger with reference to that dreadful secret, the divulging of which would be so fatal.

'I have told him,' continued Sir Peregrine, 'that for a few minutes I was angry with him when I heard from Lady Mason that he had spoken to her; but I believe that on the whole it is better that it should have been so.'

'He would be very unhappy if anything that he had done had distressed you,' said Mrs. Orme, hardly knowing what words to use, or how to speak. Nor did she feel quite certain as yet how much had been told to her son, and how much was concealed from him.

'No, no, no,' said the old man, laying his arm affectionately on the young man's shoulder. 'He has done nothing to distress me. There is nothing wrong—nothing wrong between him and me. Thank God for that. But, Perry, we will think now of that other matter. Have you told your mother anything about it?' And he strove to look away from the wretchedness of his morning's work to something in his family that still admitted of a bright hope.

'No, sir; not yet. We won't mind that just now.' And then they all remained silent, Mrs. Orme sitting, and the two men still standing with their backs towards the fire. Her mind was too intent on the unfortunate lady upstairs to admit of her feeling interest in that other unknown matter to which Sir Peregrine had alluded.

'If you have done with Perry,' she said at last, 'I would be glad to speak to you for a minute or two.'

'Oh yes,' said Peregrine;—'we have done.' And then he went.

'You have told him,' said she, as soon as they were left together.

'Told him; what, of her? Oh no. I have told him that that,—that idea of mine has been abandoned.' From this time forth Sir Peregrine could never endure to speak of his proposed marriage, nor to hear it spoken of. 'He conceives that this has been done at her instance,' he continued.

'And so it has,' said Mrs. Orme, with much more of decision in her voice than was customary with her.

'And so it has,' he repeated after her.

'Nobody must know of this,'—said she very solemnly, standing up and looking into his face with eager eyes. 'Nobody but you and I.'

'All the world, I fear, will know it soon,' said Sir Peregrine.