There are
many such honeymoons every summer; indeed, the mountain paths, the
waterfalls and lakes swarm with happy lovers; and this land of hills and
waters seems to have been made expressly for honeymoon travellers; yet
never went truer lovers wandering by lake and torrent, by hill and
valley, than those two whose brief honeymoon was now drawing to a close.
It was altogether a magical time for Mary, this dawn of a new life. The
immensity of her happiness almost frightened her. She could hardly
believe in it, or trust in its continuance.
'Am I really, really, really your wife?' she asked on their last day,
bending down to speak to her husband, as he led her pony up the rough
ways of Skiddaw. 'It is all so dreadfully like a dream.'
'Thank God, it is the very truth,' answered Lord Hartfield, looking
fondly at the fresh young face, brightened by the summer wind, which
faintly stirred the auburn hair under the neat little hat.
'And am I actually a Countess? I don't care about it one little bit, you
know, except as a stupendous joke.
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