“She told me a few of the reasons why she—­she didn’t want to marry me,” said Peter.

Lady Mary’s dismay was rather too apparent.  “Surely that doesn’t sound very hopeful.”

Peter moved impatiently.  “Oh, mother, it is always so difficult to make you understand.”

“Is it, indeed?” she said, with a faint, pained smile.  “I do my best, my darling.”

“Never mind; I suppose women are always rather slow of comprehension,” said the young lord of creation—­“that is, except Sarah. She always understands.  God bless her!”

“God bless her, indeed!” said Lady Mary, gently, and the tears started to her blue eyes, “if she is going to marry my boy.”

Peter repented his crossness.  “Forgive me, mother.  I know you mean to be kind,” he said.  “You will help me, won’t you?”

“With all my heart,” she said, anxiously; “only tell me how.”

“You see, I can’t help feeling,” said Peter, bashfully, “that she wouldn’t have told me why she couldn’t marry me, if she hadn’t thought she might bring herself to do it in the end, if I got over the difficulties she mentioned.  I’ve been—­hopeful, ever since she refused that ass of an Avonwick, in spite of Lady Tintern.  It wants some courage to defy Lady Tintern, I can tell you, though she’s such a little object to look at.  By George!  I’d almost rather walk up to a loaded gun than face that woman’s tongue.  Of course, even if my share of the difficulties were removed, there’d still be Lady Tintern against us.  But if Sarah can defy Lady Tintern in one thing, she might in another.  She’s afraid of nobody.”

“Sarah certainly does not lack courage,” said Lady Mary, smiling.

“I never saw anybody like her,” said Peter, whose love possessed him, mind, body, and soul.  “Why, I’ve heard her keep a whole roomful of people laughing, and every one of them as dull as ditch-water till she came in.  And to see her hold her own against men at games—­she’s more strength in one of her pretty, white wrists,” said Peter, looking with an air of disparagement at his mother’s slender, delicate hand, “than you have in your whole body, I do believe.”

“She is splendidly strong,” said Lady Mary; “the very personification of youth and health.”  She sighed softly.

“And beauty,” said Peter, excitedly.  “Don’t leave that out.  And a good sort, through and through, as even you must allow, mother.”

He spoke as though he suspected her of begrudging his praise of Sarah, and she made haste to reply: 

“Indeed, she is a good sort, dear little Sarah.”

“She is very fond of you,” Peter said, in a choking voice.  It seemed to him, in his infatuation, so touching that Sarah should be fond of any one.  “She was dreadfully afraid of hurting your feelings; but yet, as she said, she was bound to be frank with me.”

“Oh, Peter, do tell me what you mean.  You are keeping me on thorns,” said Lady Mary.