She was looking her loveliest at this moment, all that was softest in her nature called forth by her desire to please her grandmother, whom she really loved.  She hung over Lady Maulevrier’s chair, attending to her small wants, and seeming scarcely to remember the existence of anyone else.  In this phase of her character she seemed to Mr. Hammond the perfection of womanly grace.

Mary had rushed off to her room to change her muddy gown, and came in presently, dressed for dinner, looking the picture of innocence.

John Hammond received his tea-cup from Lesbia’s hand, and lingered in the drawing-room talking to the dowager and her granddaughters till it was time to dress.  Lady Maulevrier found herself favourably impressed by him in spite of her prejudices.  It was very provoking of Maulevrier to have brought such a man to Fellside.  His very merits were objectionable.  She tried with exquisite art to draw him into some revealment as to his family and antecedents:  but he evaded every attempt of that kind.  It was too evident that he was a self-made man, whose intellect and good looks were his only fortune.  It was criminal in Maulevrier to have brought such a person to Fellside.  Her ladyship began to think seriously of sending the two girls to St. Bees or Tynemouth for change of air, in charge of Fraeulein.  But any sudden proceeding of that kind would inevitably awaken Lesbia’s suspicions; and there is nothing so fatal to a woman’s peace as this idea of danger.  No, the peril must be faced.  She could only hope that Maulevrier would soon tire of Fellside.  A week’s Westmoreland weather—­gray skies and long rainy days, would send these young men away.

CHAPTER IX.

A CRY IN THE DARKNESS.

The peril had to be faced, for the weather did not favour Lady Maulevrier’s hopes.  Westmoreland skies forgot to shed their accustomed showers.  Westmoreland hills seemed to have lost their power of drawing down the rain.  That August was a lovely month, and the young people at Fellside revelled in ideal weather.  Maulevrier took his friend everywhere—­by hill and stream and force and gill—­to all those chosen spots which make the glory of the Lake country—­on Windermere and Thirlmere, away through the bleak pass of Kirkstone to Ullswater—­on driving excursions, and on boating excursions, and pedestrian rambles, which latter the homely-minded Hammond seemed to like best of all, for he was a splendid walker, and loved the freedom of a mountain ramble, the liberty to pause and loiter and waste an hour at will, without being accountable to anybody’s coachman, or responsible for the well-being of anybody’s horses.