-would stand in my way. I would bring back the colour
to her cheek, and the light to her eye, and the music to her voice--"

"Whilst her boy is in danger?" John asked, almost scornfully. He
thought he knew Lady Mary better than the doctor did, after all.

"I tell you _nothing_ would stop me," said Blundell, vehemently.
"Before I would let her fret herself to death--afraid to break the
spells that have been woven round her, bound as she is, hand and foot,
with the prejudices of the dead--I would--I would--take her to South
Africa myself," he said brilliantly. "The voyage would bring her back
to life."

John got up. "That is an idea," he said. He paused and looked at the
doctor. "You have known her longer than I. Have you said nothing to
her of all this?"

The doctor smiled grimly. "Mr. Crewys," he said, "some time since I
spoke my mind--a thing I am over-apt to do--_of_ Peter, and _to_ him.
The lad has forgiven me; he is a man, you see, with all his faults.
But Lady Mary, though she has all the virtues of a woman, is also a
mother. A woman often forgives; a mother, never. Don't forget."

"I will not," said John.

"And you'll do it--"

"Use the unlimited authority that has been placed in my hands, by
improving this tumble-down, overgrown place?" said John, slowly. "Let
in light, air, and sunshine to Barracombe, and do my best to brighten
Lady Mary's life, without reference to any one's prejudices, past or
present?"

"You've got the idea," said the doctor, joyfully. "Will you carry it
out?"

"Yes," said John.

CHAPTER IX

The new moon brightened above the rim of the opposite hill, and
touched the river below with silver reflections. On the grass banks
sloping away beneath the terrace gardens, sheets of bluebells shone
almost whitely on the grass. The silent house rose against the
dark woods, whitened also here and there by the blossom of wild
cherry-trees.

Lady Mary stepped from the open French windows of the drawing-room
into the still, scented air of the April night. She stood leaning
against the stone balcony, and gazing at the wonderful panorama of
the valley and overlapping hills; where the little river threaded its
untroubled course between daisied meadows and old orchards and red
crumbling banks.

A broad-shouldered figure appeared in the window, and a man's step
crunched the gravel of the path which Lady Mary had crossed.

"For once I have escaped, you see," she said, without turning ro