“Here is papa,” said Sarah, breaking the silence.  “He was so vexed to be out when you arrived yesterday.  He heard nothing of it till he came back.”

Colonel Hewel walked in through the open window, with his dog at his heels.  He was delighted to welcome his young neighbour home.  A short, sturdy man, with red whiskers, plentiful stiff hair, and bright, dark blue eyes.  From her father Sarah had inherited her colouring, her short nose, and her unfailing good spirits.

“I would have come over to welcome you,” he said, shaking Peter’s hand cordially, “only when I came home there was all the upset of Lady Tintern’s arrival, and half a hundred things to be done to make her sufficiently comfortable.  And then I would have come to fetch Sarah after dinner, only I couldn’t be sure she mightn’t have started; and if I’d gone down by the road, ten to one she’d have come up by the path through the woods.  So I just sat down and smoked my pipe, and waited for her to come back.  You’ll stay to lunch, eh, Peter?”

“I must get back to my mother, sir,” said Peter.  His respect for Sarah’s father, who had once commanded a cavalry regiment, had increased a thousand-fold since he last saw Colonel Hewel.  “But won’t you—­I mean she’d be very glad—­I wish you’d come over and dine to-night, all of you—­as you could not come yesterday evening?”

Thus Peter delivered his first invitation, blushing with eagerness.

“I’m afraid we couldn’t leave Lady Tintern—­or persuade her to come with us,” said the colonel, shaking his head.  Then he brightened up.  “But as soon as she and Sally have toddled back to town I see no reason why we shouldn’t come, eh, Emily?” he said, turning to his wife.

Peter looked rather blank, and a laugh trembled on Sarah’s pretty lips.

“You know I’m not strong enough to dine out, Tom,” said his wife, peevishly.  “I can’t drive so far, and I’m terrified of the ferry at night, with those slippery banks.”

“Well, well, there’s plenty of time before us.  Later on you may get better; and I don’t suppose you’ll be running away again in a hurry, eh, Peter?” said the colonel.  “I’m told you made a capital speech yesterday about sticking to your home, and living on your land, as your father, poor fellow, did before you.”

“I wish Sarah felt as you do, Peter,” said Mrs. Hewel; “but, of course, she has grown too grand for us, who live contentedly in the country all the year round.  Her home is nothing to her now, it seems; and the only thing she thinks of is rushing back to London again as fast as she can.”

Sarah, contrary to her wont, received this attack in silence; but she bestowed a fond squeeze on her father’s arm, and cast an appealing glance at Peter, which caused the hero’s heart to leap in his bosom.

“Of course I mean to live at Barracombe,” said Peter, polishing his eyeglass with reckless energy.  “But I said nothing to the people about living there all the year round.  On the contrary, I think it more probable that I shall—­run up to town myself, occasionally—­just for the season.”