’His society does not cost me anything.  Hammond is the soul of independence.  He worked as a blacksmith in Canada for three months, just to see what life was like in a wild district.  There never was such a fellow to rough it.  And as for Molly, well, now, really, if he happened to take a fancy to her, and if she happened to like him, I wouldn’t bosh the business, if I were you, grandmother.  Take my word for it, Molly might do worse.’

’Of course.  She might marry a chimney sweep.  There is no answering for a girl of her erratic nature.  She is silly enough and romantic enough for anything; but I shall not countenance her if she wants to throw herself away on a person without prospects or connections; and I look to you, Maulevrier, to take care of her, now that I am a wretched log chained to this room.’

’You may rely upon me, grandmother, Molly shall come to no harm, if I can help it.’

‘Thank you,’ said her ladyship, touching her bell twice.

The two clear silvery strokes were a summons for Halcott, the maid, who appeared immediately.

’Tell Mrs. Power to get his lordship’s room ready immediately, and to give Mr. Hammond the room he had last summer,’ said Lady Maulevrier, with a sigh of resignation.

While Maulevrier was with his grandmother John Hammond was smoking a solitary cigar on the terrace, contemplating the mountain landscape in its cold March greyness, and wondering very much to find himself again at Fellside.  He had gone forth from that house full of passionate indignation, shaking off the dust from his feet, sternly resolved never again to cross the threshold of that fateful cave, where he had met his cold-hearted Circe.  And now, because Circe was safe out of the way, he had come back to the cavern; and he was feeling all the pain that a man feels who beholds again the scene of a great past sorrow.

Was this the old love and the old pain again, he wondered, or was it only the sharp thrust of a bitter memory?  He had believed himself cured of his useless love—­a great and noble love, wasted on a smaller nature than his own.  He had thought that because his eyes were opened, and he understood the character of the girl he loved, his cure must needs be complete.  Yet now, face to face with the well-remembered landscape, looking down upon that dull grey lake which he had seen smiling in the sunshine, he began to doubt the completeness of his cure.  He recalled the lovely face, the graceful form, the sweet, low voice—­the perfection of gracious womanhood, manner, dress, movements, tones, smiles, all faultless; and in the absence of that one figure, it seemed to him as if he had come back to a tenantless, dismantled house, where there was nothing that made life worth living.

The red sun went down—­a fierce and lurid face that seemed to scowl through the grey—­and Mr. Hammond felt that it was time to arouse himself from gloomy meditation and go in and dress for dinner.  Maulevrier’s valet was to arrive by the coach with the heavier part of the luggage, and Maulevrier’s valet did that very small portion of valeting which was ever required by Mr. Hammond.  A man who has worked at a forge in the backwoods is not likely to be finicking in his ways, or dependent upon servants for looking after his raiment.