"I did it, and he knew nothing of it. I will go now, Sir Peregrine; I am strong enough."
"But where will you go?"
"Ah me, where shall I go?" And she put the hand which was at liberty up to her temple, brushing back her hair as though she might thus collect her thoughts. "Where shall I go? But he does not know it yet. I will go now to Orley Farm. When must he be told? Tell me that. When must he know it?"
"No, Lady Mason; you cannot go there to-day. It's very hard to say what you had better do."
"Very hard," she echoed, shaking her head.
"But you must remain here at present;—at The Cleeve I mean; at any rate for to-day. I will think about it. I will endeavour to think what may be the best."
"But—we cannot meet now. She and I;—Mrs. Orme?" And then again he was silent; for in truth the difficulties were too many for him. Might it not be best that she should counterfeit illness and be confined to her own room? But then he was averse to recommend any counterfeit; and if Mrs. Orme did not go to her in her assumed illness, the counterfeit would utterly fail of effect in the household. And then, should he tell Mrs. Orme? The weight of these tidings would be too much for him, if he did not share them with some one. So he made up his mind that he must tell them to her—though to no other one.
"I must tell her," he said.
"Oh yes," she replied; and he felt her hand tremble in his, and dropped it. He had forgotten that he thus held her as all these thoughts pressed upon his brain.
"I will tell it to her, but to no one else. If I might advise you, I would say that it will be well for you now to take some rest. You are agitated, and—"