‘I have been for a walk.’

’You might have had the civility to announce your design, and Molly and I would have shared your peregrinations.’

‘I am sorry that I lost the privilege of your company.’

‘I suppose you lost your luncheon, which was of more importance,’ said Maulevrier.

‘Will you have some tea?’ asked Mary, who looked more womanly than usual in a cream-coloured surah gown—­one of her Sunday gowns.

She had a faint hope that by this essentially feminine apparel she might lessen the prejudicial effect of Maulevrier’s cruel story about the fox-hunt.

Mr. Hammond answered absently, hardly looking at Mary, and quite unconscious of her pretty gown.

‘Thanks, yes,’ he said, taking the cup and saucer, and looking at the door by which he momently expected Lady Lesbia’s entrance, and then, as the door did not open, he looked down at Mary, very busy with china teapots and a brass kettle which hissed and throbbed over a spirit lamp.

‘Won’t you have some cake,’ she asked, looking up at him gently, grieved at the distress and disappointment in his face.  ’I am sure you must be dreadfully hungry.’

’Not in the least, thanks.  How came you to be entrusted with those sacred vessels, Lady Mary?  What has become of Fraeulein and your sister?’

’They have rushed off to St. Bees.  Grandmother thought Lesbia looking pale and out of spirits, and packed her off to the seaside at a minute’s notice.’

‘What!  She has left Fellside?’ asked Hammond, paling suddenly, as if a man had struck him.  ’Lady Maulevrier, do I understand that Lady Lesbia has gone away?’

He asked the question in an authoritative tone, with the air of a man who had a right to be answered.  The dowager wondered at his surpassing insolence.

‘My granddaughter has gone to the seaside with her governess,’ she said, haughtily.

‘At a minute’s notice?’

’At a minute’s notice.  I am not in the habit of hesitating about any step which I consider necessary for my grandchildren’s welfare.’

She looked him full in the face, with those falcon eyes of hers; and he gave her back a look as resolute, and every whit as full of courage and of pride.

‘Well,’ he said, after a very perceptible pause, ’no doubt your ladyship has done wisely, and I must submit to your jurisdiction.  But I had asked Lady Lesbia a question, and I had been promised an answer.’

’Your question has been answered by Lady Lesbia.  She left a note for you,’ replied Lady Maulevrier.

‘Thanks,’ answered Mr. Hammond, briefly, and he hurried from the room without another word.

The letter was on the table in his bedroom.  He had little hope of any good waiting for him in a letter so written.  The dowager and the world had triumphed over a girl’s dawning love, no doubt.

This was Lesbia’s letter: