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The gloom and spaciousness of
Derwentwater, grey in the gathering dusk, suited his humour better than
the emerald prettiness of Grasmere--the roar of the waterfall made music
in his ear. He dined in a private room, and spent the evening roaming on
the shores of the lake, and at eleven o'clock went back to his hotel and
sat late into the night reading Heine, and thinking of the girl who had
refused him.
Mr. Hammond's letter was delivered to Lord Maulevrier five minutes
before dinner, as he sat in the drawing-room with her ladyship and Mary.
Poor Mary had put on another pretty gown for dinner, still bent upon
effacing Mr. Hammond's image of her as a tousled, frantic creature in
torn and muddy raiment. She sat watching the door, just as Hammond had
watched it three hours ago.
'So,' said Maulevrier, 'your ladyship has succeeded in driving my friend
away. Hammond has left Fellside, and begs me to convey to you his
compliments and his grateful acknowledgment of all your kindness.'
'I hope I have not been uncivil to him,' answered Lady Maulevrier
coldly.


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