‘Hang Fraeulein,’ cried Maulevrier, puffing at his cigarette, and kicking about the stones in the clear running water.  ’I’ll square it with Fraeulein.  I’ll give her a pint of fiz with her lunch, and make her see everything in a rosy hue.  The good soul is fond of her Heidseck.  You will be back by afternoon tea.  Why should there be any fuss about the matter?  Hammond wants to see the Red Tarn, and you are dying to show him the way.  Go, and joy go with you both.  Climbing a stony hill is a form of pleasure to which I have not yet risen.  I shall stroll home at my leisure, and spend the afternoon on the billiard-room sofa reading Mudie’s last contribution to the comforts of home.’

‘What a Sybarite,’ said Hammond.  ’Come, Lady Mary, we mustn’t loiter, if we are to be back at Fellside by five o’clock.’

Mary looked at her brother doubtfully, and he gave her a little nod which seemed to say, ‘Go, by all means;’ so she dug the end of her staff into Dolly’s rugged breast, and mounted cheerily, stepping lightly from boulder to boulder.

The sun was not so warm as it had been ten minutes ago, when Maulevrier flung himself down to rest.  The sky had clouded over a little, and a cooler wind was blowing across the breast of the hill.  Fairfield yonder, that long smooth slope of verdure which a little while ago looked emerald green in the sunlight, now wore a soft and shadowy hue.  All the world was greyer and dimmer in a moment, as it were, and Coniston Lake in its distant valley disappeared beneath a veil of mist, while the shimmering sea-line upon the verge of the horizon melted and vanished among the clouds that overhung it.  The weather changes very quickly in this part of the world.  Sharp drops of rain came spitting at Hammond and Mary as they climbed the crest of the Pike, and stopped, somewhat breathless, to look back at Maulevrier.  He was trudging blithely down the winding way, and seemed to have done wonders while they had been doing very little.

‘How fast he is going!’ said Mary.

’Easy is the descent of Avernus.  He is going down-hill, and we are going upwards.  That makes all the difference in life, you see,’ answered Hammond.

Mary looked at him with divine compassion.  She thought that for him the hill of life would be harder than Helvellyn.  He was brave, honest, clever; but her grandmother had impressed upon her that modern civilisation hardly has room for a young man who wants to get on in the world, without either fortune or powerful connexions.  He had better go to Australia and keep sheep, than attempt the impossible at home.

The rain was a passing shower, hardly worth speaking of, but the glory of the day was over.  The sky was grey, and there were dark clouds creeping up from the sea-line.  Silvery Windermere had taken a leaden hue; and now they turned their last fond look upon the Westmoreland valley, and set their faces steadily towards Cumberland, and the fine grassy plateau on the top of the hill.