There was a pause.
"I see," said Lady Mary.
She was silent; not, as Peter thought, with mortification; but because she could not make up her mind what words to choose, in which to tell him that it was freedom and happiness he was thus offering her with both hands; and not, as he thought, loneliness and disappointment.
Twice she essayed to speak, and failed through sheer embarrassment. The second time Peter lifted her hand to his lips. She felt through all her consciousness the shy remorse which prompted that rare caress.
"The—the Dower House," faltered Peter, "is only a few yards away."
A sudden desire to laugh aloud seized Lady Mary. His former words returned upon her memory.
"It's—it's rather damp, isn't it?" she said, in a shaking voice.
He looked into her face, and did not understand the brightness of the smile that was shining through her tears.
"But it's very picturesque," said Peter, "and—and roomy. You and my aunts would be quite snug there; and it could be very prettily decorated, Sarah says."
"Perhaps Sarah would advise us on the subject?" said Lady Mary, unable to resist this thrust.