"Oh no," said Mrs. Orme. "I must return home, you know. How many days will it be, sir?"
"Well, perhaps two,—perhaps three. It may run on all the week. Of course you know, Mrs. Orme—"
"Know what?" she asked.
"When the trial is over, if—if it should go against us,—then you must return alone."
And so the matter had been settled, and Mr. Aram himself had ordered the carriage from the inn. Sir Peregrine's carriage would have been at their disposal,—or rather Mrs. Orme's own carriage; but she had felt that The Cleeve arms on The Cleeve panels would be out of place in the streets of Hamworth on such an occasion. It would of course be impossible that she should not be recognised in the court, but she would do as little as possible to proclaim her own presence.
When the morning came, the very morning of the terrible day, Mrs. Orme came down early from her room, as it was necessary that she should breakfast two hours before the usual time. She had said nothing of this to Sir Peregrine, hoping that she might have been able to escape in the morning without seeing him. She had told her son to be there; but when she made her appearance in the breakfast parlour, she found that his grandfather was already with him. She sat down and took her cup of tea almost in silence, for they all felt that on such a morning much speech was impossible for them.
"Edith, my dear," said the baronet, "you had better eat something. Think of the day that is before you."
"Yes, father, I have," said she, and she lifted a morsel of bread to her mouth.
"You must take something with you," said he, "or you will be faint in the court. Have you thought how many hours you will be there?"
"I will see to that," said Peregrine, speaking with a stern decision in his voice that was by no means natural to him.