His punishments and the troubles of his childhood had always been associated with his father, and its pleasures and indulgences with his mother; but neither had made any very strong impression on Peter’s mind, and it was of his father that he thought with most sympathy, and even most affection.  Partly, doubtless, because Sir Timothy was dead, and because Peter’s memories were not vivid ones, any more than his imagination was vivid; but also because his mind was preoccupied with a vague resentment against his mother.

He could not understand the change which was, nevertheless, so evident.  Her new-born brightness and ease of manner, and her strangely increased loveliness, which had been yet more apparent on the previous evening, when she was dressed for dinner, than on his first arrival.

It was absurd, Peter thought, in all the arrogance of disdainful youth, that a woman of her age should have learnt to care for her appearance thus; or to wear becoming gowns, and arrange her hair like a fashion plate.

If it had been Sarah he could have understood.

At the thought of Sarah the colour suddenly flushed across his thin, tanned face, and he moved uneasily.

Sarah, too, was changed; but not even Peter could regret the change in Sarah.

The loveliness of his mother, refined and white and delicate as she was, did not appeal to him; but Sarah, in her radiant youth, with her brilliant colouring—­fresh as a May morning, buxom as a dairymaid, scornful as a princess—­had struck Sir Peter dumb with admiration, though he had hitherto despised young women.  It almost enraged him to remember that this stately beauty had ever been an impudent little schoolgirl, with a turned-up nose and a red pigtail.  In days gone by, Miss Sarah had actually fought and scratched the spoilt boy, who tried to tyrannize over his playmate as he tyrannized over his mother and his aunts.  On the other hand, the recollection of those early days also became precious to Peter for the first time.

Sarah!

It was difficult to be sentimental on the subject, but difficulties are easily surmounted by a lover; and though Sarah’s childhood afforded few facilities for ecstatic reverie, still—­there had been moments, and especially towards the end of the holidays, when he and Sarah had walked on the banks of the river, with arms round each other’s necks, sharing each other’s toffee and confidences.

Poor Sarah had been first despatched to a boarding school as unmanageable, at the age of seven, and thereafter her life had been a changeful one, since her father could not live without her, and her mother would not keep her at home.  She had always presented a lively contrast to her elder brothers, who were all that a parent’s heart could desire, and too old to be much interested in their little rebellious sister.

Her high spirits survived disgrace and punishment and periodical banishment.  Though not destitute of womanly qualities, she was more remarkable for hoydenish ones; and her tastes were peculiar and varied.  If there were a pony to break in, a sick child to be nursed, a groom to scold, a pig to be killed—­there was Sarah; but if a frock to try on, a visit to be paid, a note to be written—­where was she?