“I am afraid the girl is setting her cap at Peter,” said Miss Crewys; “but I took care to let her mother know, casually, what our family would think of such a marriage for him.”

“Peter is a boy,” said Lady Mary, quickly; “and Sarah, for all practical purposes, is ten years older than he.  She is only amusing herself.  Lady Tintern is much more ambitious for her than I am for Peter.”

“How you talk, Mary!” said Miss Crewys, indignantly.  “She is hardly twenty years of age, and the most designing monkey that ever lived.  And Peter is a fine young man.  A boy, indeed!  I hope if she succeeds in catching him that you will remember I warned you.”

“I will remember, if anything so fortunate should occur,” said Lady Mary, with a faint smile.  “I cannot think of any girl in the world whom I would prefer to Sarah as a daughter.”

“I, for one, should walk out of this house the day that girl entered it as mistress, let Peter say what he would to prevent me,” said Lady Belstone, reddening with indignation.

“I wonder where you would go to?” said Lady Mary, with some curiosity.  “Of course,” she added, hastily, “there is the Dower House.”

“I am sure it is very generous of you to suggest the Dower House, dear Mary,” said Miss Crewys, softening, “since our poor brother, in his unaccountable will, left it entirely to you, and made no mention of his elder sisters; though we do not complain.”

“It is in accordance with custom that the widow should have the Dower House.  A widow’s rights should be respected; but I thought our names would be mentioned,” said Lady Belstone, dejectedly.

“Of course he knew,” said Lady Mary, in a low voice, “that Peter’s house would be always open to us all, as my boy said himself.”

“Dear boy! he has said it to us too,” said the sisters, in a breath.

“I don’t say that, in my opinion,” said Lady Mary, “it would not be wiser to leave a young married couple to themselves; I have always thought so.  But Peter would not hear of your turning out of your old home; you know that very well.”

“Peter would not; but nothing would induce me to live under the same roof as that red-haired minx,” said Lady Belstone, firmly.  “And besides, as you say, my dear Mary, you could not very well live by yourself at the Dower House.”

“Since Mary has been so kind as to mention it, there would be many advantages in our accompanying her there, in case Sarah should succeed in her artful aims,” said Miss Crewys.  “It would be near Peter, and yet not too near, and we could keep an eye on her.”

“If she does not succeed, somebody else will,” said Lady Belstone, sensibly; “and, at least, we know her faults, and can put Peter on his guard against them.”

A host of petty and wretched recollections poured into Lady Mary’s mind as she listened to these words.

Poor Timothy; poor little hunted, scolded, despairing bride; poor married life—­of futile reproaches and foolish quarrelling.