The whole thing was wonderful, bewildering, impossible
almost.
This was on the first morning after Mr. Hammond's arrival. Maulevrier
had gone off to hunt the Rotha for otters, and was up to his waist in
the water, no doubt, by this time. Hammond was strolling up and down the
terrace in front of the house, looking at the green expanse of
Fairfield, the dark bulk of Seat Sandal, the nearer crests of Helm Crag
and Silver Howe.
'You are to come to her ladyship directly, please,' said Mary, going up
to him.
He took both her hands, drew her nearer to him, smiling down at her.
They had been sitting side by side at the breakfast table half-an-hour
ago, he waiting upon her as she poured out the tea; yet by his tender
greeting and the delight in his face it might have been supposed they
had not met for weeks. Such are the sweet inanities of love.
'What does her ladyship want with me, darling? and why are you
blushing?' he asked.
'I--I think she is going to talk about--our--marriage,' faltered Mary.
'"Why, I will talk to her upon this theme until mine eyelids can no
longer wag,"' quoted Hammond.
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