Peter's Mother

by Mrs. Henry De La Pasture

  CHAPTER XIII

  Sarah Hewel ran into the drawing-room before Lady Mary found courageto put her newly gained composure to the test, by joining the crowd onthe terrace.

  "Oh, Lady Mary, are you there?" she cried, pausing in her eagerpassage to the window. "I thought you would be out-of-doors with theothers!"

  "Sarah, my dear!" said Lady Mary, kissing her.

  "I--I saw all the people," said Sarah, in a breathless, agitatedway, "I heard the news, and I wasn't sure whether I ought to come toluncheon all the same or not; so I slipped in by the side door tosee whether I could find some one to ask quietly. Oh!" cried Sarah,throwing her arms impetuously round Lady Mary's neck, "tell me itisn't true?"

  "My boy has come home," said Lady Mary.

  Sarah turned from red to white, and from white to red again.

  "But they said," she faltered--"they said he--"

  "Yes, my dear," said Lady Mary, understanding; and the tears startedto her own eyes. "Peter has lost an arm, but otherwise--otherwise,"she said, in trembling tones, "my boy is safe and sound."

  Sarah turned away her face and cried.

  Lady Mary was touched. "Why, Sarah!" she said; and she drew the girldown beside her on the sofa and kissed her softly.

  "I am sorry to be so silly," said Sarah, recovering herself. "It isn'ta bit like me, is it?"

  "It is like you, I think, to have a warm heart," said Lady Mary,"though you don't show it to every one; and, after all, you and Peterare old friends--playmates all your lives."

  "It's been like a lump of lead on my heart all these months andyears," said Sarah, "to think how I scoffed at Peter in the Christmasholidays before he went to the war, because my brothers had gone,whilst he stayed at home. Perhaps that was the reason he went. I usedto lie awake at night sometimes, thinking that if Peter were killed itwould be all my fault. And now his arm has gone--and Tom and Williecame back safely long ago." She cried afresh.

  "It may not have been that at all," said Lady Mary, consolingly. "Idon't think Peter was a boy to take much notice of what a goose ofa little girl said. He felt he was a man, and ought to go--and hisgrandfather was a soldier--it is in the blood of the Setouns to wantto fight for their country," said Lady Mary, with a smile and a littlethrill of pride; for, after all, if her boy were a Crewys, he was alsoa Setoun. "Besides, poor child, you were so young; you didn't think;you didn't know--"

  "You always make excuses for me," said Sarah, with subdued enthusiasm;"but I understand better now what it means--to send an only son awayfrom his mother."

  "The young take responsibility so lightly," said Lady Mary. "But nowhe has come home, my darling, why, you needn't reproach yourself anylonger. It is good of you to care so much for my boy."

  "It--it isn't only that. Of course, I was always fond of Peter," saidSarah; "but even if I had nothing to do with his going"--her voicesounded incredulous--"you know how one feels over our soldiers cominghome--and a boy who has given his right arm for England. It makes oneso choky and yet so proud--I can't say all I mean--but you know--"

  "Yes, I know," said Lady Mary; and she smiled, but the tears wererolling down her cheeks.

  "And what it must be to _you_," sobbed Sarah, "the day you were tohave been so happy, to see him come back like _that_! No wonder youare sad. One feels one could never do enough to--to make it up tohim."

  "But I'm far more happy than sad," said Lady Mary; and to prove herwords she leant back upon the cushions and cried.

  "You're not," said Sarah, kneeling by her; "how can you be, mydarling, sweet Lady Mary? But you _must_ be happy," she said; and herodd, deep tones took a note of coaxing that was hard to resist. "Thinkhow proud every one will be of him, and how--how all the other motherswill envy you! You--you mustn't care so terribly. It--it isn't as ifhe had to work for his living. It won't make any real difference tohis life. And he'll let you do everything for him--even write hisletters--"

  "Oh, Sarah, Sarah, stop!" said Lady Mary, faintly. "It--it isn'tthat."

  "Not that!" said Sarah, changing her tone. She pounced on theadmission like a cat on a mouse. "Then why do you cry?"

  Lady Mary looked up confused into the severely inquiring young face.

  Sarah's apple-blossom beauty, as was to have been expected, hadincreased a thousand-fold since her school girl days. She had growntall to match the plumpness of her figure, which had not decreased.Her magnificent hair showed its copper redness in every variety ofcurl and twist upon her white forehead, and against her whiter throat.

  She was no longer dressed in blue cotton. Lady Tintern knew how togive such glorious colouring its true value. A gauzy, transparentblack flowed over a close-fitting white gown beneath, and veiled herfair arms and neck. Black bebe ribbon gathered in coquettishly thefolds which shrouded Sarah's abundant charms, and a broad black sashconfined her round young waist. A black chip hat shaded the glowinghair and the face, "ruddier than the cherry, and whiter than milk;"and the merry, dark blue eyes had a penthouse of their own, ofdrooping lashes, which redeemed the boldness of their frank and opengaze.

  "If it is not that--why do you cry?" she demanded imperiously.

  "It's--just happiness," said Lady Mary.

  Sarah looked wise, and shook her head. "Oh no," she quoth. "Thosearen't happy tears."

  "You're too old, dear Sarah, to be an _enfant terrible_ still," saidLady Mary; but Sarah was not so easily disarmed.

  "I will know! Come, I'm your godchild, and you always spoil me. He'snot come back in one of his moods, has he?"

  "Who?" cried Lady Mary, colouring.

  "Who! Why, who are we talking of but Peter?" said Sarah, opening herbig-pupilled eyes.

  "Oh no, no! He's changed entirely--"

  "Changed!"

  "I don't mean exactly changed, but he's--he's grown so loving and sosweet--not that he wasn't always loving in his heart, but--

  "Oh," cried Sarah, impatiently, "as if I didn't know Peter! But ifit wasn't _that_ which made you so unhappy, what was it?" She bentpuzzled brows upon her embarrassed hostess.

  "Let me go, Sarah; you ask too much!" said Lady Mary. "Oh no, mydarling, I'm not angry! How could I be angry with my little loyalSarah, who's always loved me so? It's only that I can't bear tobe questioned just now." She caressed the girl eagerly, almostapologetically. "I must have a few moments to recover myself. I'll goquietly away into the study--anywhere. Wait for me here, darling, andmake some excuse for me if any one comes. I want to be alone for a fewmoments. Peter mustn't find me crying again."

  "Yes--that's all very well," said Sarah to herself, as the slight formhurried from the drawing-room into the dark oak hall beyond. "But_why_ is she unhappy? There is something else."

  It was Dr. Blundell who found the answer to Sarah's riddle.

  He had seen the signs of weeping on Lady Mary's face as she stumbledover the threshold of the window into the very arms of John Crewys,and his feelings were divided between passionate sympathy with hisdivinity, and anger with the returned hero, who had no doubt reducedhis mother to this distressful state. The doctor was blinded by loveand misery, and ready to suspect the whole world of doing injustice tothis lady; though he believed himself to be destitute of jealousy, andcapable of judging Peter with perfect impartiality.

  His fancy leapt far ahead of fact; and he supposed, not only that LadyMary must be engaged to John Crewys, but that she must have confidedher engagement to her son, and that Peter had already forbidden thebanns.

  He wandered miserably about the grounds, within hearing of therejoicings; and had just made up his mind that he ought to go and jointhe speechmakers, when he perceived John Crewys himself standing nextto Peter, apparently on the best possible terms with the hero of theday.

  The doctor hastened round to the hall, intending to enter thedrawing-room unobserved, and find out for himself whether Lady Maryhad recovered, or whether John Crewys had heartlessly abandoned her toher grief.

  The brilliant vision Miss Sarah presented, as she stood, drawn up toher full he
ight, in the shaded drawing-room, met his anxious gaze ashe entered.

  "Why, Miss Sarah! Not gone back to London yet? I thought you only camedown for Whitsuntide."

  "Mamma wasn't well, so I am staying on for a few days. I am supposedto be nursing her," said Sarah, demurely.

  She was a favourite with the doctor, as she was very well aware, and,in consequence, was always exceedingly gracious to him.

  "Where is Lady Mary?" he asked.

  She stole to his side, and put her finger on her lips, and lowered hervoice.

  "She went through the hall--into the study. And she's alone--crying."

  "Crying!" said the doctor; and he made a step towards the open door,but Sarah's strong, white hand held him fast.

  "Play fair," she said reproachfully; "I told you in confidence. Youcan't suppose she wants _you_ to see her crying."

  "No, no," said the poor doctor, "of course not--of course not."

  She closed the doors between the rooms. "Look here, Dr. Blundell,we've always been friends, haven't we, you and me?"

  "Ever since I had the honour of ushering you into the world you nowadorn," said the doctor, with an ironical bow.

  "Then tell me the truth," said Sarah. "Why is she unhappy, to-day ofall days?"

  The doctor looked uneasily away from her. "Perhaps--the joy of Peter'sreturn has been too much for her," he suggested.

  "Yes," said Sarah. "That's what we'll tell the other people. But youand I--why, Dr. Blunderbuss," she said reproachfully, using thename she had given him in her saucy childhood, "you know how I'veworshipped Lady Mary ever since I was a little girl?"

  "Yes, yes, my dear, I know," said the doctor.

  "You love her too, don't you?" said Sarah.

  He started. "I--I love Lady Mary! What do you mean?" he said, almostviolently.

  "Oh, I didn't mean _that_ sort of love," said Sarah, watching himkeenly. Then she laid her plump hand gently on his shabby sleeve. "Iwouldn't have said it, if I'd thought--"

  "Thought what?" said the doctor, agitated.

  "What I think now," said Sarah.

  He walked up and down in a silence she was too wise to break. Whenhe looked at her again, Sarah was leaning against the piano. She hadtaken off the picture-hat, and was swinging it absently to and fro bythe black ribbons which had but now been tied beneath her round, whitechin. She presented a charming picture--and it is possible she knewit--as she stood in that restful pose, with her long lashes pointeddownwards towards her buckled shoes.

  The doctor stopped in front of her. "You are too quick for me, Sarah.You always were, even as a little girl," he said. "You've surprisedmy--my poor secret. You can laugh at the old doctor now, if you like."

  "I don't feel like laughing," said Sarah, simply. "And your secret issafe with me. I'm honest; you know that."

  "Yes, my dear; I know that. God bless you!" said the doctor.

  "I'm sorry, Dr. Blundell," said Sarah, softly.

  The deep voice which came from the full, white chest, and which hadonce been so unmanageable, was one of Sarah's surest weapons now.

  When she sang, she counted her victims by the dozen; when she loweredit, as she lowered it now, to speak only to one man, every note wentstraight to his heart--if he had an ear for music and a heart forlove.

  When Sarah said, in these dulcet tones, therefore, that she was sorryfor her old friend, the tears gathered to the doctor's kind, tiredeyes.

  "For me!" he said gratefully. "Oh, you mustn't be sorry for me.She--she could hardly be further out of _my_ reach, you know, if shewere--an angel in heaven, instead of being what she is--an angel onearth. 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 hasactually come; and that is what puzzles me."

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

  "You saw her?"

  "Oh, when one loves," he said bitterly, "one has intuitions whichserve 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 beenhere 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 oddconsolation to him to believe he had first led John Crewys tointerest himself in Lady Mary. He recognized his rival's superiorqualifications very fully and humbly. "You know all about it, MissSarah, don't tell me; so quick as you are to find out what doesn'tconcern you."

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

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

  "Love!" said Sarah.

  Her soft, red lips parted; and her breath quickened with a suddensensation of mingled interest, sympathy, and amusement.

  "Ay, love," said the doctor, half angrily. He detected the deepeningof 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 youand--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 goodand all--with his mother; that nothing was to be changed from hisfather's time. Something in his words would have made meunderstand the look on his mother's face, even if I hadn't read itright--already. She will sacrifice her love for John Crewys to herlove for her son; and by the time Peter finds out--as in the course ofnature he will find out--that he can do without his mother, her chanceof 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 livewithout his mother, the better. Doesn't that seem strange?"

  "Perhaps," said the doctor, heavily. "But life gives us so fewopportunities of a great happiness as we grow older, little Sarah. Thepossibilities that once seemed so boundless, lie in a circle whichnarrows 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'vetold me all I wanted to know. She sha'n't be unhappy if _I_ can helpit."

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

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

  "What will you do?" said the doctor, inattentively; and his blindnessto 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 inconfidence--though why I was such a fool--"

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

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

  "Were you coming to fetch me?" she said, taki
ng Sarah's armaffectionately. "Dr. Blundell, I am afraid luncheon will be terriblylate. The servants have all gone off their heads in the confusion, aswas to be expected. The noise and the welcome upset me so that I darednot go out on the terrace again. Ash has just been to tell me it'sall 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.," shelaughed. "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 speechesmust be really all over," he said, for, above vociferous cheering, thestrains of the National Anthem could just be discerned.

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

  "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 LadyMary.

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

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

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

  Peter, foolishly embarrassed, took the hand she offered with suchgracious 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 theterrace?"

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

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

  He put up his eyeglass--but though Sarah's red lip quivered, she didnot 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 thestep with the air of a princess. "But they'll be so disappointed tosee me instead of your mother."

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

  She stepped forth, laughing, and Peter followed her closely. JohnCrewys stood aside to let them pass. Lady Mary, half amazed and halfamused, realized suddenly that her son had forgotten he came back tofetch her. She hesitated on the threshold. More cheers and confusedshouting greeted Peter's reappearance on the balcony. He turned andwaved to his mother, and the canon came hurrying over the grass.

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

  John Crewys looked at her with a smile, and held out his hand, and shestepped over the sill, and went away across the terrace garden withhim.

  The doctor turned his face from the crowd, and went back alone intothe empty room.

  "Who _doesn't_ want Lady Mary?" he said to himself, forlornly.