‘Are you afraid of her anger?’

‘No; I am afraid of nothing, for your sake.’

He lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it reverently, and there was a touch of chivalry in that reverential kiss.  His eyes clouded with tears as he looked down into the trustful face.  The fog had darkened to a denser blackness, and it was almost as if they were engulfed in sudden night.

’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.  Beyond those pastures stretched the dark waters of Thirlmere, looking like a broad river.

The descent was passing steep, but Hammond’s strong arm and steady steps made Mary’s progress very easy, while she had in no wise exaggerated her familiarity with the windings and twistings of the track.  Yet as they had need to travel very slowly so long as the fog still surrounded them, the journey downward lasted a considerable time, and it was past five when they arrived at the little roadside inn at the foot of the hill.

Here Mr. Hammond insisted that Mary should rest at least long enough to take a cup of tea.  She was very white and tired.  She had been profoundly agitated, and looked on the point of fainting, although she protested that she was quite ready to walk on.

‘You are not going to walk another step,’ said Hammond.  ’While you are taking your tea I will get you a carriage.’

‘Indeed, I had rather hurry on at once,’ urged Mary.  ’We are so late already.’

’You will get home all the sooner if you obey me.  It is your duty to obey me now,’ said Hammond, in a lowered voice.

She smiled at him, but it was a weak, wan little smile, for that descent in the wind and the fog had quite exhausted her.  Mr. Hammond took her into a snug little parlour where there was a cheerful fire, and saw her comfortably seated in an arm chair by the hearth, before he went to look after a carriage.