"My darling, I forgave you long ago—if there was anything to forgive," she cried,
"You know there was," said Peter; and he sounded like the boy Peter again, now that she could not see his face. "Well, my soldiering's done for." A faint note of regret sounded in his voice. "I had a good bout, so I suppose I oughtn't to complain; but I had hoped—however, it's all for the best. And there's no doubt," said Peter, "that my duty lies here now. In a very few months I shall be my own master, and I mean to keep everything going here exactly as it was in my father's time. You shall devote yourself to me, and I'll devote myself to Barracombe; and we'll just settle down into all the old ways. Only it will be me instead of my father—that's all."
"You instead of your father—that's all," echoed Lady Mary. She felt as though her mind had suddenly become a blank.
"I used to rebel against poor papa," said Peter, remorsefully. "But now I look back, I know he was just the kind of man I should like to be."
She kissed his hand in silence. Her face was hidden.
"I want you—and my aunts, to feel that, though I am young and inexperienced, and all that," said Peter, tenderly, "there are to be no changes."
"But, Peter," said his mother, rather tremulously, "there are—sure to be—changes. You will want to marry, sooner or later. In your position, you are almost bound to marry."
"Oh, of course," said Peter. He released his hand gently, in order to stroke the cherished moustache. "But I shall put off the evil day as long as possible, like my father did."
"I see," said Lady Mary. She smiled faintly.
"And when it does arrive," said Peter, "my wife will just have to understand that she comes second. I've no notion of being led by the nose by any woman, particularly a young woman. I'm sure my father never dreamt of putting his sisters on one side, or turning them out of their place, when he married you, did he?"