Peter's Mother Part 21

"What suspicions?" almost shouted the canon,

"That our dear Lady Mary's extraordinary partiality for our cousin John has _not_ escaped the observation of a censorious world."

"Though we have done our best never to leave him alone with her for a single moment," interpolated Miss Crewys.

The canon turned rather pale. "There can be no question of censure,"

he said. "Lady Mary is a very charming and beautiful woman. Who could dare to blame her if she contemplated such a step as--as a second marriage?"

"A second marriage! We said nothing of a second marriage," said Lady Belstone, sharply. "You go a great deal too fast, canon. Luckily, our poor Mary is debarred from any such act of folly. I have no patience with widows who re-marry."

"Debarred from a second marriage!"

"Is it possible you don't know?"

The sisters exchanged meaning glances.

He looked from one to the other in bewilderment.

"If our sister-in-law remarries," said Miss Crewys, "she forfeits the whole of her jointure."

"Is that all?" he cried.

"Is that all!" echoed Miss Crewys, much offended. "It is no less than two thousand a year. In my opinion, far too heavy a charge on poor Peter's estate."

"No man with any self-respect," said Lady Belstone, "would desire to marry a widow without a jointure. I should have formed a low opinion, indeed, of any gentleman who asked _me_ to marry him without first making sure that the admiral had provided for me as he ought, and as he _has_."

The canon, though mentally echoing the sentiment with much warmth, thought it wiser to change the topic of conversation. Experience had taught him to discredit most of the a.s.sumptions of Lady Mary's sisters-in-law, where she was concerned, and he rose in hope of effecting his escape without further ado.

"I believe I am to meet Mr. Crewys at luncheon," he said, "and with your permission I will stroll out into the grounds, and look him up.

He told me where he was to be found."

"He is to be found all over the place. He seizes every opportunity of coming down here. I cannot believe in his making so much money in London, when he manages to get away so often. As for Mary, you know her way of inviting people to lunch, and then going out for a walk, or up to her room, as likely as not. But I suppose she will be down directly, if you like to wait here," said Lady Belstone, who had plenty more to say.

"I should be glad of a turn before luncheon," said the canon, who had no mind to hear it. "And there is an hour and a half yet. You lunch at two? I came straight from the school-house, as Lady Mary suggested. I wanted to have a look at the improvements."

"Sarah Hewel is coming to lunch," said Miss Crewys. "I cannot say we approve of her, since she has been out so much in London, and become such a notorious young person."

"It's very odd to me," said the canon, benevolently, "little Sarah growing up into a fashionable beauty. I often see her name in the papers."

"She is exactly the kind of person to attract our cousin John, who is quite foolish about her red hair. In my young days, red hair was just a misfortune like any other," said Miss Crewys. "Dr. Blundell is lunching here also, I need hardly say. Since my dear brother's death we keep open house."

"It used not to be the fashion to encourage country doctors to be tame cats," said Lady Belstone, viciously; "but he pretends to like the innovations, and gets round young John; and inquires after Peter, and pleases Mary."

"Ay, ay; it will be a great moment for her when the boy comes back. A great moment for you all," said the canon, absently.

He stood with his back to the tall leather screen which guarded the entrance to the hall, and did not hear the gentle opening of the great door.

"I trust," said Miss Crewys, "that we are not a family p.r.o.ne to display weak emotion even on the most trying occasions."

"To be sure not," said the canon, disconcerted; "still, I cannot think of it myself without a little--a great deal--of thankfulness for his preservation through this terrible war, now so happily ended. And to think the boy should have earned so much distinction for himself, and behaved so gallantly. G.o.d bless the lad! You are well aware," said the canon, blowing his nose, "that I have always been fond of Peter."

"Thank you, canon," said Peter.

For a moment no one was sure that it was Peter, who had come so quietly round the great screen and into the hall, though he stood somewhat in the shadow still.

A young man, looking older than his age, and several inches taller than Peter had been when he went away; a young man deeply tanned, and very wiry and thin in figure; with a brown, narrow face, a dark streak of moustache, a long nose, and a pair of grey eyes rendered unfamiliar by an eyegla.s.s, which was an ornament Peter had not worn before his departure.

The old ladies sat motionless, trembling with the shock; but the canon seized the hand which Peter held out, and, scarcely noticing that it was his left hand, shook it almost madly in both his own.

"Peter! good heavens, Peter!" he cried, and the tears ran unheeded down his plump, rosy cheeks. "Peter, my boy, G.o.d bless you! Welcome home a thousand thousand times!"

"Peter!" gasped Lady Belstone. "Is it possible?"

"Why, he's grown into a man," said Miss Crewys, showing symptoms of an inclination to become hysterical.

Peter was aghast at the commotion, and came hurriedly forward to soothe his agitated relatives.

"Is this your boasted self-command, Georgina?" said Lady Belstone, weeping.

"We cannot always be consistent, Isabella. It was the unexpected joy,"

sobbed Miss Crewys.

"Peter! your _arm_!" screamed Lady Belstone and she fell back almost fainting upon the sofa.

Peter stood full in the light now, and they saw that he had lost his right arm. The empty sleeve was pinned to his breast.

His aunt tottered towards him. "My poor boy!" she sobbed.

"Oh, that's all right," said Peter, in rather annoyed tones. "I can use my left hand perfectly well. I hardly notice it now."

Something in the tone of this speech caused his aunts to exclaim simultaneously--

"Dear boy, he has not changed one bit!"

"You never told us, Peter," said the canon, huskily.

"I didn't want a fuss," Peter said, very simply, "so I just got the newspaper chap to cork it down about my being shot in the arm, without any details. It had to be amputated first thing, as a matter of fact."

"It has given your aunt Georgina and me a terrible shock," said Lady Belstone, faintly.

"You can't expect a fellow who has been invalided home to turn up without a single scratch," said Peter, in rather surly tones.

"How like his father!" said Miss Crewys.

"Besides, you know very well my mother would have tormented herself to death if I had told her," said Peter. "I want her to see with her own eyes how perfectly all right I am before she knows anything about it."

"It was a n.o.ble thought," said the canon.