"If she will come here I will speak to her. I cannot do it there. I cannot go down to your grandfather's house with such an object as that."
"All the world will turn against her if she marries him," said Peregrine. And then there was silence between them for a moment or two.
"It seems to me," said Lucius at last, "that you wrong my mother very much in this matter, and lay all the blame where but the smallest part of the blame is deserved. She has no idea of money in her mind, or any thought of pecuniary advantage. She is moved solely by what your grandfather has said to her,—and by an insane dread of some coming evil which she thinks may be lessened by his assistance. You are in the house with them, and can speak to him,—and if you please to her also. I do not see that I can do either."
"And you will not help me to break it off?"
"Certainly,—if I can see my way."
"Will you write to her?"
"Well; I will think about it."
"Whether she be to blame or not it must be your duty as well as mine to prevent such a marriage if it be possible. Think what people will say of it?"
After some further discussion Peregrine remounted his horse, and rode back to The Cleeve, not quite satisfied with young Mason.
"If you do speak to her,—to my mother, do it gently." Those were the last words whispered by Lucius as Peregrine Orme had his foot in the stirrup.