“I am getting on in years, and very infirm,” said Lady Tintern, “and I must ask you to excuse me if I lean upon a stick; but I should like to take a turn about the garden with you.  I hear you have a remarkable view from your terrace.”

Lady Mary offered her arm with pretty solicitude, and guided her aged but perfectly active visitor through the drawing-room—­where she stopped to comment favourably upon the water colours—­to the terrace, where John was sitting in the shade of the ilex-tree, absorbed in the London papers.

Lady Mary introduced him as Peter’s guardian and cousin.

“How do you do, Mr. Crewys?  Your name is very familiar to me,” said the old lady.  “Though to tell you the truth, Sir Peter looks so much older than his age that I forgot he had a guardian at all.”

“He will only have one for a few days longer,” said John, smiling.  “My authority will expire very shortly.”

“But you are, at any rate, the very man I wanted to see,” said Lady Tintern, who seldom wasted time in preliminaries.  “I would always rather talk business with a man than with a woman; so if Mr. Crewys will lend me his arm to supplement my stick, I will take a turn with him instead of with you, my dear, if you have no objection.”

“Did you ever hear anything like her?” said poor Mrs. Hewel, turning to Lady Mary as soon as her aunt was out of hearing.  “What Mr. Crewys must think of her, I cannot guess.  She always says she had to exercise so much reticence as an ambassadress, that she has given her tongue a holiday ever since.  But there is only one possible subject they can have to talk about.  And how can we be sure her interference won’t spoil everything?  She is quite capable of asking what Peter’s intentions are.  She is the most indiscreet person in the world,” said Sarah’s mother, wringing her hands.

“I think Peter has made his intentions pretty obvious,” said Lady Mary.  She smiled, but her eyes were anxious.

“And you are sure you don’t mind, dear Lady Mary?  For who can depend on Lady Tintern, after all?  She is supposed to be going to do so much for Sarah, but if she takes it into her head to oppose the marriage, I can do nothing with her.  I never could.”

“I am very far from minding,” said Lady Mary.  “But it is Sarah on whom everything depends.  What does she say, I wonder?  What does she want?”

“It’s no use asking me what Sarah wants,” said Mrs. Hewel, plaintively.  “Time after time I have told her father what would come of it all if he spoilt her so outrageously.  He is ready enough to find fault with the boys, poor fellows, who never do anything wrong; but he always thinks Sarah perfection, and nothing else.”

“Sarah is very fortunate, for Peter has the same opinion of her.”

“Fortunate!  Lady Mary, if I were to tell you the chances that girl has had—­not but what I had far rather she married Peter—­though she might have done that all the same if she had never left home in her life.”