“Do give me your arm to the drawing-room, canon,” said Lady Belstone, rightly judging that the canon would reveal the whole contents of Peter’s letter to her more easily in private.  “The shock has made me feel quite faint.  You, too, Georgina, are looking pale.”

“It is not the shock, but the draught, which is affecting me, Isabella,—­Sir Timothy thoughtlessly keeping the door open so long.  I will accompany you to the drawing-room.”

“But Sir Timothy may want me,” said the canon, uneasily.

“Bless the man! they’ve got the letter itself, what can they want with you?” said her ladyship, vigorously propelling her supporter out of reach of possible interruption.  “Close the door behind us, Georgina, I beg, or that odious doctor will be racing after us.”

“He takes far too much upon himself.  I have no idea of permitting country apothecaries to be so familiar,” said Miss Crewys.

CHAPTER V

Lady Mary, coming from the library with the letter in her hand, met her husband in the hall.

“Timothy!”

She looked at him wistfully.  Her face was very pale as she gave him the letter.  Sir Timothy took out his glasses, wiped them deliberately, and put them on.

“Never mind reading it.  I can tell you in one word,” she said, trembling with impatience.  “My boy is sailing for South Africa to-morrow morning.”

“I prefer,” said Sir Timothy, “to read the letter for myself.”

“Oh, do be quick!” she said, half under her breath.

But he read it slowly twice, and folded it.  He was really thunderstruck.  Peter was accustomed to write polite platitudes to his parent, and had presumably not intended that his letter to the canon should be actually read by Sir Timothy, when he had asked that the contents of it should be broken to him.

“Selfish, disobedient, headstrong, deceitful boy!” said Sir Timothy.

Lady Mary started.  “How can you talk so!” Her gentle voice sounded almost fierce.  “At least he has proved himself a man.’  And he is right.  It was a shame and a disgrace for him to stay at home, whilst his comrades did their duty.  I say it a thousand times, though I am his mother.”

Then she broke down.  “Oh, Peter, my boy, my boy, how could you leave me without a word!”

“Perhaps this step was taken with your connivance after all?” said Sir Timothy, suspiciously.  He could not follow her rapid changes of mood, and had listened resentfully to her defence of her son.

“Timothy!” said Lady Mary, trembling, “when have I ever been disloyal to you in word or deed?”

“Never, I hope,” said Sir Timothy.  His voice shook a little.  “I do not doubt you for a moment, Mary.  But you spoke with such strange vehemence, so unlike your usual propriety of manner.”

She broke into a wild laugh which pained and astonished him.