'God has been very good to me, and not placed temptation in my way;—temptation, I mean, to great faults. But little faults require repentance as much as great ones.'
'But then repentance is easy; at any rate it is possible.'
'Oh, Lady Mason, is it not possible for you?'
'But I will not talk of that now. I will not hear you compare yourself with such a one as I am. Do you know I was thinking to-day that my mind would fail me, and that I should be mad before this is over? How can I bear it? how can I bear it?' And rising from her seat, she walked rapidly through the room, holding back her hair from her brows with both her hands.
And how was she to bear it? The load on her back was too much for her shoulders. The burden with which she had laden herself was too heavy to be borne. Her power of endurance was very great. Her strength in supporting the extreme bitterness of intense sorrow was wonderful. But now she was taxed beyond her power. 'How am I to bear it?' she said again, as still holding her hair between her fingers, she drew her hands back over her head.
'You do not know. You have not tried it. It is impossible,' she said in her wildness, as Mrs. Orme endeavoured to teach her the only source from whence consolation might be had. 'I do not believe in the thief on the cross, unless it was that he had prepared himself for that day by years of contrition. I know I shock you,' she added, after a while. 'I know that what I say will be dreadful to you. But innocence will always be shocked by guilt. Go, go and leave me. It has gone so far now that all is of no use.' Then she threw herself on the bed, and burst into a convulsive passion of tears.
Once again Mrs. Orme endeavoured to obtain permission from her to undertake that embassy to her son. Had Lady Mason acceded, or been near acceding, Mrs. Orme's courage would probably have been greatly checked. As it was she pressed it as though the task were one to be performed without difficulty. Mrs. Orme was very anxious that Lucius should not sit in the court throughout the trial. She felt that if he did so the shock,—the shock which was inevitable,—must fall upon him there; and than that she could conceive nothing more terrible. And then also she believed that if the secret were once made known to Lucius, and if he were for a time removed from his mother's side, the poor woman might be brought to a calmer perception of her true position. The strain would be lessened, and she would no longer feel the necessity of exerting so terrible a control over her feelings.
'You have acknowledged that he must know it sooner or later,' pleaded Mrs. Orme.
'But this is not the time,—not now, during the trial. Had he known it before———'
