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"At least the Vandyck has never been seen to greater advantage," said the canon, hopefully; "and I hear the gallery upstairs has been restored and supported, to render it safe to walk upon, which will enable you to take pleasure in the fine pictures there." "I am sadly afraid that it is not pictures that poor Mary hankers after, but theatres," said Miss Crewys.
"Mary," said Miss Crewys, in lowered tones of reproof, "I understood that divorce cases, unhappily, occupied the greater part of our cousin John's attention." "We've heard of you, nevertheless we've heard of you, Mr. Crewys," said the canon, nervously interposing, "even in this out-of-the-way corner of the west."
The sisters exchanged meaning glances. He looked from one to the other in bewilderment. "If our sister-in-law remarries," said Miss Crewys, "she forfeits the whole of her jointure." "Is that all?" he cried. "Is that all!" echoed Miss Crewys, much offended. "It is no less than two thousand a year. In my opinion, far too heavy a charge on poor Peter's estate."
Her thoughtful son insisted that she must avoid exposure to the night air, and poor Lady Mary had somewhat ruefully returned to the society of the old ladies within; but John Crewys did not, as he might, and as Peter had supposed he would, join the other old folk. Peter classed his mother and aunts together, quite calmly, in his thoughts.
The case had been specially made of hand-carven oak to match the room as nearly as might be. It was open, and beside it was a heap of music, and on it another bowl of roses. "Ay, you may well look horrified," said Miss Crewys to the canon, whose admiration and delight were very plainly depicted on his rubicund countenance. "Where are our cloaks and umbrellas? That's what I say to Isabella.
"Dear Timothy not dead three months, and she sitting out there in the night air, as he would never have permitted, talking and laughing; yes, I actually hear her laughing with John." "There is no telling what she may do now," said Miss Crewys, gloomily. "I declare it is a judgment, Georgina.
"No, no; I don't mean hers is not charming, and Mr. John's playing is delightful, but " "There is an organ in the parish church," said Miss Crewys, crocheting more busily than ever. "I have heard no complaints of the choir. Have you?" "No, no; but besides music, there are so many other things," he said dismally. "She likes pictures, too."
This John had said with quite unruffled good humour, and with a smile on his face, as though such an upheaval of domestic politics were the simplest thing in the world. Though for years the insolence and the idleness of Ash had been favourite grievances with Lady Belstone and Miss Crewys, they were speechlessly indignant with young John.
"But you are, at any rate, the very man I wanted to see," said Lady Tintern, who seldom wasted time in preliminaries. "I would always rather talk business with a man than with a woman; so if Mr. Crewys will lend me his arm to supplement my stick, I will take a turn with him instead of with you, my dear, if you have no objection." "Did you ever hear anything like her?" said poor Mrs.
Above Youlestone village, overlooking the valley and the river, and the square-towered church, stood Barracombe House, backed by Barracombe Woods, and owned by Sir Timothy Crewys, of Barracombe.
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