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Updated: May 21, 2025
The Crewys family had been Squires of Barracombe, cultivating their own lands and living upon them contentedly, for centuries before the Hewels had ever been heard of in Devon, as all the village knew very well; wherefore they regarded the Hewels with a mixture of good-natured contempt and kindly tolerance.
A woman often forgives; a mother, never. Don't forget." "I will not," said John. "And you'll do it " "Use the unlimited authority that has been placed in my hands, by improving this tumble-down, overgrown place?" said John, slowly. "Let in light, air, and sunshine to Barracombe, and do my best to brighten Lady Mary's life, without reference to any one's prejudices, past or present?"
Passing this at a moderate pace, which allowed them to take a good look-out, they saw in a minute or two a small red flame flickering in the midst of a dark expanse. Every second it grew larger as they approached; Smith did not doubt it was the bonfire which he had asked his friend Barracombe to kindle.
Sarah had accepted an invitation to dine and spend the evening with her beloved Lady Mary at Barracombe; but Peter had another appointment with her besides, of which Lady Mary knew nothing. He was to meet her at the ferry, and picnic on the moor at the top of the hill, on his side of the river.
His services thus recognized and rewarded, old Sir Peter Crewys settled down amicably with his brother at Barracombe. Presumably there had always been an excellent understanding between them. In any case no question of divided interests ever arose.
"A few letters, mostly from the people you disappointed, I suspect. I'll fetch them." When she returned, Smith immediately noticed a long official envelope in the bundle. He tore it open. "Great Scott!" he cried. "An order to rejoin on Wednesday without fail. That's a nasty whack." "Any explanation?" asked Barracombe. "Not a word. Some sudden whimsy of the admiral's, I suppose.
They said to each other that John, before he grew tired of her and went away, had spoilt poor dear Mary completely; but their hopes were centred on Peter, who was a true Crewys, and who would soon be his own master, and the master of Barracombe; when he would, doubtless, revert to his father's old ways.
"A walk through Barracombe woods means simply a climb, Mary," said Lady Belstone; "and you are not strong." "I am perfectly robust, Isabella. Do allow me at least the use of my limbs," said Lady Mary, impatiently. "No woman, certainly no lady, can be called robust," said Miss Crewys, severely. The sudden clanging of a bell changed the conversation. "Visitors. How tiresome!" said Lady Mary.
I must be at home by four o'clock, because Aunt Elizabeth is coming to Hewelscourt this very afternoon." "Lady Tintern!" cried Peter, in dismay. "Then you won't be able to come to Barracombe this evening?" "I am not in the habit of throwing over a dinner engagement," said Sarah, with dignity.
"In fact, she might have had more chance of learning how to do her hair properly anywhere else, now I come to think of it." "Of course everything at Barracombe is ugly and old-fashioned," said Peter, gloomily. "Except your mother," said Sarah. "Sarah! I can't stand any more of this rot!" said Peter, starting from his couch of heather. "Will you talk sense, or let me?"
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