Blogs and book

CHAPTER V.
FORTY YEARS AFTER.

'What a horrid day!' said Lady Mary, throwing down her book with a yawn,
and looking out of the deep bay window into a world of mountain and lake
which was clouded over by a dense veil of rain and dull grey mist; such
rain as one sees only in a lake district, a curtain of gloom which shuts
off sky and distance, and narrows the world to one solitary dwelling,
suspended amidst cloud and water, like another ark in a new deluge.
Rain--such rain as makes out-of-door exercise impossible--was always an
affliction to Lady Mary Haselden. Her delight was in open air and
sunshine--fishing in the lake and rivers--sitting in some sheltered
hollow of the hills more fitting for an eagle's nest than for the
occupation of a young lady, trying to paint those ever-varying,
unpaintable mountain peaks, which change their hues with every change of
the sky--swimming, riding, roving far and wide over hill and
heather--pleasures all more or less masculine in their nature, and which
were a subject of regret with Lady Maulevrier.


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