Peter's Mother Part 7

"Is it only you and Sarah, after all? What a relief! I thought it was visitors," cried Lady Mary, coming forward to greet them very kindly and warmly. "Did you come across in the ferry?"

"No, indeed. You know how I dislike the ferry. I have the long drive home still before me. But we were so close to Barracombe, at the Gilberts' tea-party. I thought we should be certain to meet you there," said Mrs. Hewel, in rather reproachful tones. "Sarah, of course, wanted to go back in the ferry, but I am always doubly frightened at night--and in one's best clothes. It was quite a large party."

"I'm afraid I forgot all about it," said Lady Mary, with a conscience-stricken glance at her husband.

"I hope you sent the carriage round to the stables?" said Sir Timothy.

"No, no; we mustn't stop a minute. But I couldn't help just popping in--so very long since I've seen you--and all this happening at once,"

said Mrs. Hewel. She was a large, stout woman, with breathless manner and plaintive voice. "And I wanted to show you Sarah in her first grown-up clothes, and tell you about _her_ too," she added.

"Bless me!" said Sir Timothy. "You don't mean to say little Sarah is grown up."

"Oh yes, dear Sir Timothy; she grew up the day before yesterday," said Mrs. Hewel.

"Sharp work," said the doctor, grimly.

"I mean, of course, she turned up her hair, and let her dresses down.

It's full early, I know, but it's such a chance for Sarah--that's partly what I came about. After the trouble she's been all her life to me, and all--just going to that excellent school in Germany--here's my aunt wanting to adopt her, or as good as adopt her--Lady Tintern, you know."

Everybody who knew Mrs. Hewel knew also that Lady Tintern was her aunt; and Lady Tintern was a very great lady indeed.

"She is to come out this very season; that is why I took her to the Gilberts', to prepare her for the great plunge," said Mrs. Hewel, not intending to be funny. "It will be a change for Sarah, such a hoyden as she has always been. But my aunt won't wait once she has got a fancy into her head; though the child is only seventeen."

"At seventeen _I_ was still in the nursery, playing with my dolls,"

said Lady Belstone.

"Oh, Lady Belstone!" said an odd, deep, protesting voice.

John looked with amused interest at the speaker. The unlucky Sarah had taken a low chair beside her hostess, and was holding one of the soft white hands in her plump gloved fingers.

Sarah Hewel's adoration for Lady Mary dated from the days when she had been ferried over the Youle with her nurse, to play with Peter, in his chubby childhood. Peter had often been cross and always tyrannical, but it was so wonderful to find a playmate who was naughtier than herself, that Sarah had secretly admired Peter. She was the black sheep of her own family, and in continual disgrace for lesser crimes than he daily committed with impunity. But her admiration of Peter was tame and pale beside her admiration of Lady Mary. A mother who never scolded, who told no tales, who petted black sheep when they were bruised and torn or stained entirely through their own wickedness, who could always be depended on for kisses and bonbons and fairy-tales, seemed more angelic than human to poor little Sarah; whose own mother was wrapt up in her two irreproachable sons, and had small affection to spare for an ugly, tiresome little girl.

Sarah, however, had slowly but surely struggled out of the ugliness of her childhood; and John Crewys, regarding her critically in the lamplight, decided she would develop, one of these days, into a very handsome young woman; in spite of an ungainly stoop, a wide mouth that pouted rather too much, and a nose that inclined saucily upwards.

Her colouring was fresh, even brilliant--the bright rose, and creamy tint that sometimes accompanies vivid red hair--and of a vivid, uncompromising red were the locks that crowned Miss Sarah's little head, and shaded her blue-veined temples.

Miss Crewys had, in consequence, long ago p.r.o.nounced her to be a positive fright; and Lady Belstone had declared that such hair would prove an insuperable obstacle to her chances of getting a husband.

"I know she's very young," said Mrs. Hewel, glancing apologetically at her offspring. "But what can I do? There's no going against Lady Tintern; and at seventeen she ought to be something more than a tomboy, after all."

"_You_ were married at seventeen, weren't you?" said Sarah to Lady Mary, in her deep, almost tragic voice--a voice that commanded attention, though it came oddly from her girlish chest.

"Sarah!" said Mrs. Hewel.

Lady Mary started and smiled. "Me? Yes, Sarah; I was married at seventeen."

"Mamma says n.o.body can be married properly--before they're one and twenty. I _knew_ it was rot," said Sarah, triumphantly.

"Miss Sarah retains the outspokenness of her recently discarded childhood, I perceive," said Sir Timothy, stiffly.

"Sarah!" said her mother, indignantly, "I said not unless they had their parents' consent. I was not thinking of Lady Mary, as you know very well."

"_Your_ people didn't say you were too young to marry at seventeen, did they?" said Sarah, caressing Lady Mary's hand.

Lady Mary smiled at her, but shook her head. "You want to know too much, Sarah."

"Oh, I forgot," said Sarah the artless. "Sir Timothy was your guardian, so, of course, there was n.o.body to stop his marrying you if he liked. I suppose you _had_ to do what he told you."

"Oh, Sarah, will you cease chattering?" cried her mother.

"I hope you have good news of your sons in South Africa, Mrs. Hewel,"

said the canon, briskly advancing to the rescue.

Mrs. Hewel's voice changed. "Thank you, canon; they were all right when we heard last. Tom is in Natal, so I feel happier about him; but Willie, of course, is in the thick of it all--and the news to-day--isn't rea.s.suring."

"But you are proud of them both," said Lady Mary, softly. "Every mother must be proud to have sons able and willing to fight for their country."

"We may feel differently concerning the justice of this war," said Sir Timothy, clearing his throat; and Lady Mary shrugged her shoulders, whilst the canon jumped from his chair, and sat meekly down again on catching the doctor's eye.

"But in our sympathy with our brave soldiers we are all one, Mrs.

Hewel."

Sarah sprang forward. "You don't mean to say you're _still_ a pro-Boer, Sir Timothy?" she exclaimed. "Well, mamma--talking of the justice of the war--when Tom and Willie are risking their lives"--she broke into a sudden sob--"and now _Peter_--"

"Peter!" said Lady Mary.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Sarah, running to her friend. "I didn't mean to hurt _you_--talking of the war--and--and the boys--when you must be thinking only of Peter." She wrung her hands together piteously.

"Of Peter!" Lady Mary repeated.

"We only heard to-day," said Mrs. Hewel, "and came in hoping for more details. My cousin George, who is also going out with Lord Ferries, happened to mention in his letter that Peter had joined the corps."

"I think I can explain how the mistake arose," said Sir Timothy, stiffly. "Peter wrote for permission to join, and I refused. My son is fortunately too young to be of any use in a contest I regard with horror."

"But Cousin George was helping Peter to get his kit, because they were to sail at such short notice," cried Sarah.

"Sarah," said her mother, in breathless indignation, "_will_ you be silent?"

"What does this mean, Timothy?" said Lady Mary, trembling.

She stood by the centre table; and the hanging lamp above shed its light on her brown hair, and flashed in her blue eyes, and from the diamond ring she wore.

The doctor rose from his chair.

"I am at a loss to understand," said Sir Timothy.

"It means," said Sarah, half-hysterically,--"oh, can't you see what it means? It just means that Peter is going to South Africa, whether you like it or not."

"There must be some mistake, of course," said Mrs. Hewel, in distressed tones. "And yet--George's letter was so very clear."