"Come and sit down comfortably," he said, "and let us talk everything over. It looks very miserable out-of-doors, and nothing could be more delightful than this room, and nobody to disturb us. I want the real history of the last few months. Do you know your letters told me almost nothing?"
The room was certainly delightful, and not the less so for the Chill rain without, which beat against the windows, and enhanced the bright aspect of the scene within.
A little fire burned cheerfully in the polished grate, and cast its glow upon the burnished fender, and the silver ornaments and trifles on a rosewood table beyond. The furniture was bright with old-fashioned glossy chintz; the rose-tinted walls were hung with fine water-colour drawings; the windows with rose-silk curtains.
The hardy outdoor flowers were banished to the oaken hall. Lady Mary's sense of the fitness of things permitted the silver cups and Venetian glasses of this dainty apartment to be filled only with waxen hothouse blooms and maidenhair fern.
She could not but be conscious of the restfulness of her surroundings, and of John's calm, protecting presence, as he placed her tenderly in the corner of the fireside couch, and took his place beside her.
"I don't think the last months have had any history at all," she said dreamily. "I have missed you, John. But that—you know already. I—I have been very lonely—since—since Peter came home. I think it was Sarah who persuaded him to go away again so soon. I believe she laughed at his clothes."
"I suppose they were a little out of date, and he must surely have outgrown them, besides," said John, smiling.
"I suppose so; anyway, I think it must have been that which put it into his head to go to London and buy more. It was a little awkward for the poor boy, because he had just been scolding me for wishing to go to London. But he said he would only be a few days."
"And he stayed to the end of the season?"
"Yes. Of course the aunts put it down to Sarah. I dare say it was her doing. I don't know why she should wish to rob me of my boy just for—amusement," said Lady Mary, rather resentfully. "But I have not understood Sarah lately; she has seemed so hard and flippant. You are laughing, John? I dare say I am jealous and inconsistent. You are quite right. One moment I want to think Sarah in earnest—and willing to marry my boy; and the next I remember that I began to hate his wife the very day he was born."