‘I am to see the man early in August,’ she said, as if she were talking of a butler.  ’I hope I may like him.  Lady Kirkbank tells me it is a brilliant marriage, and I must take her word.  What can I do for my granddaughter—­a useless log—­a prisoner in two rooms?’

‘It is very hard,’ murmured Mary, tenderly, ’but I do not see any reason why Lesbia should not be happy.  She likes a brilliant life; and Mr. Smithson can give her as much gaiety and variety as she can possibly desire.  And, after all, yachts, and horses, and villas, and diamonds are nice things.’

’They are the things for which half the world is ready to cheat or murder the other half,’ said Lady Maulevrier, bitterly.  She had told herself long ago that wealth was power, and she had sacrificed many things, her own peace, her own conscience among them, in order that her children and grandchildren should be rich; and, knowing this, she felt it ill became her to be scrupulous, and to inquire too, closely as to the sources of Mr. Smithson’s wealth.  He was rich, and the world had no fault to find with him.  He had attended the last levee.  He went into reputable society.  And he could give Lesbia all those things which the world calls good.

Fraeulein Mueller had packed her heavy old German trunks, and had gone back to the Heimath, laden with presents of all kinds from Lady Maulevrier; so Mary and her husband felt as if Fellside was really their own.  They dined with her ladyship, and left her for the night an hour after dinner; and then they went down to the gardens, and roamed about in the twilight, and talked, and talked, and talked, as only true lovers can talk, be they Strephon and Daphne in life’s glad morning, or grey-haired Darby and Joan; and lastly they went down to the hike, and rowed about in the moonlight, and talked of King Arthur’s death, and of that mystic sword, Excalibur, ’wrought by the lonely maiden of the lake.’

They spent three happy days in wandering about the neighbourhood, revisiting in the delicious freedom of their wedded life those spots which they had seen together, when Mary was still in bondage, and the eye of propriety, as represented by Miss Mueller, was always upon her.  Now they were free to go where they pleased—­to linger where they liked—­they belonged to each other, and were under no other dominion.

The dogcart, James Steadman’s dogcart, which he had rarely used during the last six months, was put in requisition and Lord Hartfield drove his wife about the country.  They went to the Langdale Pikes, and to Dungeon Ghyll; and, standing beside the waterfall, Mary told her husband how miserable she had felt on that very spot a little less than a year ago, when she believed that he thought her plain and altogether horrid.  Whereupon he had to console her with many kisses and sweet words, for the bygone pain on her part, the neglect of his.

‘I was a wretch,’ he said, ‘blind, besotted, imbecile.’