, but a liar to him once
was a liar always. And then he was amenable to flattery, and few that
are so are proof against the leading-strings of their flatterers. All
this was well understood of Sir Peregrine by those about him. His
gardener, his groom, and his woodman all knew his foibles. They all
loved him, respected him, and worked for him faithfully; but each of
them had his own way in his own branch.

And there was another person at The Cleeve who took into her own
hands a considerable share of the management and leading of Sir
Peregrine, though, in truth, she made no efforts in that direction.
This was Mrs. Orme, the widow of his only child, and the mother of
his heir. Mrs. Orme was a younger woman than Mrs. Mason of Orley Farm
by nearly five years, though her son was but twelve months junior to
Lucius Mason. She had been the daughter of a brother baronet, whose
family was nearly as old as that of the Ormes; and therefore, though
she had come penniless to her husband, Sir Peregrine had considered
that his son had married well. She had been a great beauty, very
small in size and delicate of limb, fair haired, with soft blue
wondering eyes, and a dimpled cheek. Such she had been when young
Peregrine Orme brought her home to The Cleeve, and the bride at once
became the darling of her father-in-law. One year she had owned
of married joy, and then all the happiness of the family had been
utterly destroyed, and for the few following years there had been no
sadder household in all the country-side than that of Sir Peregrine
Orme. His son, his only son, the pride of all who knew him, the hope
of his political party in the county, the brightest among the bright
ones of the day for whom the world was just opening her richest
treasures, fell from his horse as he was crossing into a road, and
his lifeless body was brought home to The Cleeve.

All this happened now twenty years since, but the widow still wears
the colours of mourning. Of her also the world of course said that
she would soon console herself with a second love; but she too has
given the world the lie. From that day to the present she has never
left the house of her father-in-law; she has been a true child to
him, and she has enjoyed all a child's privileges. There has been
but little favour for any one at The Cleeve who has been considered
by the baronet to disregard the wishes of the mistress of the
establishment. Any word from her has been law to him, and he