"Yes, my dear. He is one of those who seem by nature created to bear adversity. No trouble or sorrow would I think crush him. But had prosperity come to him, it would have made him odious to all around him. You were not present when they met?"
"No—I thought it better to leave them."
"Yes, yes. And he will give up the place at once."
"To-morrow he will do so. In that at any rate he has true spirit. To-morrow early they will go to London, and she I suppose will never see Orley Farm again." And then Mrs. Orme gave Sir Peregrine that last message.—"I tell you everything as she told me," Mrs. Orme said, seeing how deeply he was affected. "Perhaps I am wrong."
"No, no, no," he said.
"Coming at such a moment, her words seemed to be almost sacred."
"They are sacred. They shall be sacred. Poor soul, poor soul!"
"She did a great crime."
"Yes, yes."
"But if a crime can be forgiven,—can be excused on account of its motives—"