tions she
has to marrying me, quite apart from disappointing her aunt. I can't
blame Lady Tintern," said Peter, with a new and strange humility, "for
not thinking me good enough for Sarah; and _that's_ not a difficulty
_I_ can ever hope to remove. Sarah is the one to decide that point.
But about relations-in-law--it's what I've been trying to tell you all
this time." He cleared his throat, which had grown dry and husky.
"She says that when she marries she--she intends to have her house to
herself."

There was a pause.

"I see," said Lady Mary.

She was silent; not, as Peter thought, with mortification; but because
she could not make up her mind what words to choose, in which to tell
him that it was freedom and happiness he was thus offering her with
both hands; and not, as he thought, loneliness and disappointment.

Twice she essayed to speak, and failed through sheer embarrassment.
The second time Peter lifted her hand to his lips. She felt through
all her consciousness the shy remorse which prompted that rare caress.

"The--the Dower House," faltered Peter, "is only a few yards away."

A sudden desire to laugh aloud seized Lady Mary. His former words
returned upon her memory.

"It's--it's rather damp, isn't it?" she said, in a shaking voice.

He looked into her face, and did not understand the brightness of the
smile that was shining through her tears.

"But it's very picturesque," said Peter, "and--and roomy. You and
my aunts would be quite snug there; and it could be very prettily
decorated, Sarah says."

"Perhaps Sarah would advise us on the subject?" said Lady Mary, unable
to resist this thrust.

"I'm sure she'd be delighted," said Peter, simply.

Lady Mary fell back on her cushions and laughed helplessly, almost
hysterically.

"I don't see why you should laugh," said Peter, in a rather sore tone.
"I don't know how it is, but I never _can_ understand you, mother."

"I see you can't. Never mind, Peter," said Lady Mary. She sat up, and
lifted her pretty hands to smooth the soft waves of her brown hair.
"So I'm to settle down happily in my Dower House, and take your aunts
to live with me?"

"Why, you see," said Peter, "we couldn't very well let the poor old
things wander away alone into the world, could we?"

"I think," said Lady Mary, slowly, "that they can take care of
themselves. And it is just possible that they may have foreseen--your
change of intentions."

"Women can never take care of t