'If we are never to find our way down the hill; if this were to be the
last hour of our lives, Mary, would you be content?'
'Quite content,' she answered, simply. 'I think I have lived long
enough, if you really love me--if you are not making fun.'
'What, Molly, do you still doubt? Is it strange that I love you?'
'Very strange. I am so different from Lesbia.'
'Yes, very different, and the difference is your highest charm. And now,
love, we had better go down whichever side of the hill is easiest, for
this fog is rather appalling. I forgive the wind, because it blew you
against my heart just now, and that is where I want you to dwell for
ever!'
'Don't be frightened,' said Mary. 'I know every step of the way.'
So, leaning on her lover, and yet guiding him, slowly, step by step,
groping their way through the darkness, Lady Mary led Mr. Hammond down
the winding track along which the ponies and the guides travel so often
in the summer season. And soon they began to descend out of that canopy
of fog which enveloped the brow of Helvellyn, and to see the whole world
smiling beneath them, a world of green pastures and sheepfolds, with a
white homestead here and there amidst the fields, looking so human and
so comfortable after that gloomy mountain top, round which the tempest
howled so outrageously.
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