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Updated: May 3, 2025
She supposed nobody would call Sir Peter Crewys of Barracombe a fool; and as for his being young, he was only a few months younger than Lord Avonwick, and Sarah would have just as pretty a title, even if her husband were only a baronet instead of a baron. Thus she argued to herself, and wrote the gist of her argument to her aunt.
Much as she desired to marry her grand-niece to Lord Avonwick, she was not blind to the young man's personal disadvantages, which were undeniable; and which Peter had rudely summed up in a word by alluding to his rival as an ass. He was distinguished among the admirers of Miss Sarah's red and white beauty by his brainlessness no less than by his eligibility.
"You see, I can't help feeling," said Peter, bashfully, "that she wouldn't have told me why she couldn't marry me, if she hadn't thought she might bring herself to do it in the end, if I got over the difficulties she mentioned. I've been hopeful, ever since she refused that ass of an Avonwick, in spite of Lady Tintern.
She had been annoyed with Sarah for refusing Lord Avonwick, and thought it would do the rebellious young lady no harm to return for a time to the bosom of her family, and thus miss Newmarket, which Sarah particularly desired to attend, since no society function interested her half so much as racing. The old lady had not in the least objected to Sarah's friendship for young Sir Peter Crewys.
"That is why he went up to Scotland." "I see." "Then she got him another invitation, I suppose, for he went to the next house she stayed at; and to a third place for some yachting." "What did Lady Tintern say?" "That's just it. Sarah is in Lady Tintern's black books just now. She is furious with her, Mrs. Hewel tells me, because she has refused Lord Avonwick." "Hum!" said John.
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