I've always wanted to be your child. What's the use of pretending I
haven't? Think what a time poor mamma used to give me, and what an
angel of goodness you were to the poor little black sheep who loved
you so."

Sarah's white dress, shining in the moonlight, caught the attention of
John Crewys, through the open window. He paused in his walk outside.
Peter's voice uttered something, and the two dark figures passed
slowly on.

"They won't interrupt us," said Sarah, serenely. "I told Peter at
dinner that I wanted to talk to you, and that he was to go and smoke
with Mr. John, and behave as if nothing had happened. He said he
hadn't spoken to him since this morning. He is all agog to know what
Lady Tintern came for. But he won't dare to come and interrupt."

"What have you done to my boy," said Lady Mary, half laughing and
half indignant, "that your lightest word is to be his law? And oh,
Sarah"--her tone grew wistful--"it is strange--even though he loves
you, that you should understand him better than I, who would lay down
my life for him."

"It's very easy to see why," said Sarah, calmly. The deep contralto
music of her voice contrasted oddly with her matter-of-fact manner and
words. "It's just that Peter and I are made of common clay, and that
you are not. So, of course, we understand each other. I don't mean to
say that we don't quarrel pretty often. I dare say we always shall.
I am good-tempered, but I like my own way; and, besides"--she spoke
quite cheerfully--"anybody would quarrel with Peter. But you and he
are a little like Aunt Elizabeth and me. _She_ wants me to behave like
a _grande dame_, and to know exactly who everybody is, and treat them
accordingly, and be never too much interested in anything, but never
bored; and always look beautiful, and, above all, _appropriate_. And
_I_--would rather be taking the dogs for a run on the moors, in a
short skirt and big boots; or up at four in the morning otter-hunting;
or out with the hounds; or--or--digging in the garden, for that
matter;--than be the prettiest girl in London, and going to a State
ball or the opera. You see, I've tried both kinds of life now, and
I know which I like best. And--and flirting with people is pleasant
enough in its way, but it gives you a kind of sick feeling afterwards,
which hunting never does. I don't think I'm really much of a hand at
sentiment," said Sarah, with great truth.

"And Peter?" asked Lady Mary, gently.

"You wanted P