And then Lady Staveley promised that she would love him, thinking nevertheless that had things gone differently she would have extended a more motherly warmth of affection to Peregrine Orme.
And about this time Peregrine Orme made another visit to Noningsby. His intention was to see the judge, explaining what steps his grandfather had taken as to The Cleeve property, and then once more to have thrown himself at Madeline's feet. But circumstances as they turned out prevented this. Although he had been at some trouble to ascertain when the judge would be at Noningsby, nevertheless, on his arrival, the judge was out. He would be home, the servant said, to dinner, but not before; and therefore he had again seen Lady Staveley, and after seeing her had not thrown himself at Madeline's feet.
He had made up his mind to give a systematic and detailed account of his pecuniary circumstances, and had selected nearly the very words in which this should be made, not actuated by any idea that such a process would have any weight with Madeline, or by any means assist him with her, but hoping that he might thus procure the judge's permission to press his suit. But all his preparation and all his chosen words were of no use to him. When he saw Lady Staveley's face he at once knew that she had no comfort to offer to him. 'Well,' he said; 'is there any chance for me?' He had intended to speak in a very different tone, but words which have been prepared seldom manage to fit themselves into their appropriate places.
'Oh, Mr. Orme,' she said, taking him by the hand, and holding it. 'I wish it were different; I wish it could be different.'
'There is no hope then?' And as he spoke there was a sound in his voice as though the tidings would utterly unman him.
'I should be wicked to deceive you,' she said. 'There is no hope.' And then as she looked up at the sorrow so plainly written in the lines of his young, handsome face, tears came into her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. How could it be that a daughter of hers should be indifferent to the love of such a suitor as this?
But Peregrine, when he saw her sorrow, repressed his own. 'Very well,' said he; 'I will at any rate know how to take an answer. And for your kindness to me in the matter I am much obliged. I ought to have known myself better than to have supposed she could have cared for me.'
'I am sure she feels that you have done her great honour.'
'Psha! honour! But never mind—Good-by, Lady Staveley.'
'Will you not see her?'
'No. Why should I see her? Give her my love—my best love———'
'I will—I will.'
