Lady Mary started. "How can you talk so!" Her gentle voice sounded almost fierce. "At least he has proved himself a man.' And he is right. It was a shame and a disgrace for him to stay at home, whilst his comrades did their duty. I say it a thousand times, though I am his mother."
Then she broke down. "Oh, Peter, my boy, my boy, how could you leave me without a word!"
"Perhaps this step was taken with your connivance after all?" said Sir Timothy, suspiciously. He could not follow her rapid changes of mood, and had listened resentfully to her defence of her son.
"Timothy!" said Lady Mary, trembling, "when have I ever been disloyal to you in word or deed?"
"Never, I hope," said Sir Timothy. His voice shook a little. "I do not doubt you for a moment, Mary. But you spoke with such strange vehemence, so unlike your usual propriety of manner."
She broke into a wild laugh which pained and astonished him.
"Did I? I must have forgotten myself for a moment."
"You must, indeed. Pray be calm. I understand that this must be a terrible shock to you."
"It is not a shock," said Lady Mary, defiantly. "I glory in it. I—I wish him to go. Oh, Peter, my darling!"
She hid her face in her hands.