Peter's Mother Part 30

She--she could hardly be further out of _my_ reach, you know, if she were--an angel in heaven, instead of being what she is--an angel on earth. It is--of _her_ that I was thinking."

"I know," said Sarah; "but she has been looking so bright and hopeful, ever since we heard Peter was coming home--until to-day--when he has actually come; and that is what puzzles me."

"To-day--to-day!" said the doctor, as though to himself. "Yes; it was to-day I saw her touch happiness timidly, and come face to face with disappointment."

"You saw her?"

"Oh, when one loves," he said bitterly, "one has intuitions which serve as well as eyes and ears. You will know all about it one day, little Sarah."

"Shall I?" said Sarah. She turned her face away from the doctor.

"You've not been here very much lately," he said, "but you've been here long enough to guess her secret, as you--you've guessed mine. Eh?

You needn't pretend, for my sake, to misunderstand me."

"I wasn't going to," said Sarah, gently.

"John Crewys is the very man I would have chosen--I did choose him,"

said the doctor, looking at her almost fiercely. It was an odd consolation to him to believe he had first led John Crewys to interest himself in Lady Mary. He recognized his rival's superior qualifications very fully and humbly. "You know all about it, Miss Sarah, don't tell me; so quick as you are to find out what doesn't concern you."

"I saw that--Mr. John Crewys--liked _her_," said Sarah, in a low voice; "but, then, so does everybody. I wasn't sure--I couldn't believe that _she_--"

"You haven't watched as I have," he groaned; "you haven't seen the sparkle come back to her eye, and the colour to her cheek. You haven't watched her learning to laugh and sing and enjoy her innocent days as Nature bade; since she has dared to be herself. It was love that taught her an that."

"Love!" said Sarah.

Her soft, red lips parted; and her breath quickened with a sudden sensation of mingled interest, sympathy, and amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Ay, love," said the doctor, half angrily. He detected the deepening of Sarah's dimples. "And I am an old fool to talk to you like this.

You children think that love is reserved for boys and girls, like you and--and Peter."

"I don't know what Peter has to do with it," said Sarah, pouting.

"I heard Peter explaining to his tenants just now," said the doctor, with a harsh laugh, "that he was going to settle down here for good and all--with his mother; that nothing was to be changed from his father's time. Something in his words would have made me understand the look on his mother's face, even if I hadn't read it right--already. She will sacrifice her love for John Crewys to her love for her son; and by the time Peter finds out--as in the course of nature he will find out--that he can do without his mother, her chance of happiness will be gone for ever."

Sarah looked a little queerly at the doctor.

"Then the sooner Peter finds out," she said slowly, "that he can live without his mother, the better. Doesn't that seem strange?"

"Perhaps," said the doctor, heavily. "But life gives us so few opportunities of a great happiness as we grow older, little Sarah. The possibilities that once seemed so boundless, lie in a circle which narrows round us, day by day. Some day you'll find that out too."

There was a sudden outburst of cheering.

Sarah started forward. "Dr. Blundell," she said energetically, "you've told me all I wanted to know. She sha'n't be unhappy if _I_ can help it."

"You!" said the doctor, shrugging his shoulders rather rudely. "I don't see what _you_ can do."

Sarah reddened with lofty indignation. "It would be very odd if you did," she said spitefully; "you're only a man, when all is said and done. But if you'll only promise not to interfere, I'll manage it beautifully all by myself."

"What will you do?" said the doctor, inattentively; and his blindness to Sarah's charms and her powers made her almost pity such obtuseness.

"I will go and fetch Lady Mary, for one thing, and cheer her up."

"Not a word to her!" he cried, starting up; "remember, I told you in confidence--though why I was such a fool--"

"Am I likely to forget?" said Sarah; "and you will see one day whether you were a fool to tell _me_." She said to herself, despairingly, that the stupidity of mankind was almost past praying for. As the doctor opened the door for Sarah, Lady Mary herself walked into the room.

She had removed all traces of tears from her face, and, though she was still very pale, she was quite composed, and ready to smile at them both.

"Were you coming to fetch me?" she said, taking Sarah's arm affectionately. "Dr. Blundell, I am afraid luncheon will be terribly late. The servants have all gone off their heads in the confusion, as was to be expected. The noise and the welcome upset me so that I dared not go out on the terrace again. Ash has just been to tell me it's all over, and that Peter made a capital speech; quite as good as Mr.

John's, he said; but that is hardly a compliment to our K.C.," she laughed. "I'm afraid Ash is prejudiced."

"Ash was doing the honours with all his might," said the doctor, gruffly; "handing round cider by the hogshead. Hallo! the speeches must be really all over," he said, for, above vociferous cheering, the strains of the National Anthem could just be discerned.

Peter came striding across the terrace, and looked in at the open window.

"Are you better again, mother?" he called. "Could you come out now?

They've done at last, but they're calling for you."

"Yes, yes; I'm quite ready. I won't be so silly again," said Lady Mary.

But Peter did not listen. "Why--" he said, and stopped short.

"Surely you haven't forgotten Sarah," said Lady Mary, laughing--"your little playmate Sarah? But perhaps I ought to say Miss Hewel now."

"How do you do, Sir Peter?" said Sarah, in a very stately manner. "I am very glad to be here to welcome you home."

Peter, foolishly embarra.s.sed, took the hand she offered with such gracious composure, and blushed all over his thin, tanned face.

"I--I should hardly have known you," he stammered.

"Really?" said Sarah.

"Won't you," said Peter, still looking at her, "join us on the terrace?"

"The people aren't calling for _me_" said Sarah.

"But it might amuse you," said Peter, deferentially.

He put up his eyegla.s.s--but though Sarah's red lip quivered, she did not laugh.

"It's rather jolly, really," he said. "They've got banners, and flags, and processions, and things. Won't you come?"

"Well--I will," said Sarah. She accepted his help in descending the step with the air of a princess. "But they'll be so disappointed to see me instead of your mother."

"Disappointed to see _you_!" said Peter, stupefied.

She stepped forth, laughing, and Peter followed her closely. John Crewys stood aside to let them pa.s.s. Lady Mary, half amazed and half amused, realized suddenly that her son had forgotten he came back to fetch her. She hesitated on the threshold. More cheers and confused shouting greeted Peter's reappearance on the balcony. He turned and waved to his mother, and the canon came hurrying over the gra.s.s.

"The people are shouting for Lady Mary; they want Lady Mary," he cried.