by, less
inclined to find fault; but Mary knew that her society gave Lady
Maulevrier very little pleasure, that she could do hardly anything
towards filling the gap made by Lesbia's absence. There was no one to
scold her, no one to quarrel with her. Fraeulein Mueller lectured her
mildly from time to time; but that stout German was too lazy to put any
force or fire into her lectures. Her reproofs were like the fall of
waterdrops on a stone, and infinite ages would have been needed to cause
any positive impression.

February came to an end without sign or token from the outer world to
disturb the even tenor of life at Fellside. Mary read, and read, and
read, till she felt she was made up of the contents of books, crammed
with other people's ideas. She read history, or natural science, or
travels, or German poetry in the morning, and novels or English poetry
in the evening. She had pledged herself to devote her morning indoor
hours to instructive literature, and to accomplish some portion of study
in every day. She was carrying on her education on parole, as before
stated; and she was too honourable to do less than was expected from
her.

March came in with its most leonine aspect, howling and blustering;
north-east winds shrieking along the gorges and wailing from height to
height.

'I wonder the lion and the lamb are not blown into the lake,' said Mary,
looking at Helm Crag from the library window.

She scampered about the gardens in the very teeth of those bitter
blasts, and took her shivering terriers for runs on the green slopes of
the Fell. The snow had gradually melted from the tides of the lowermost
range of hills, but the mountain peaks were still white and ghostly,
the ground was still hard and slippery in the early mornings. Mary had
to take her walks alone in this bleak weather. Fraeulein had a convenient
bronchial affection which forbade her to venture so much as the point of
her nose outside the house in an east wind, and which justified her in
occasionally taking her breakfast in bed. She spent her days for the
most part in her arm-chair, drawn close to the fireplace, which she
still insisted upon calling the oven, knitting diligently, or reading
the _Rundschau_. Even music, which had once been her strong point, was
neglected in this trying weather. It was such a cold journey from the
oven to the piano.

Mary played a good deal in her desultory manner, now that she had the
drawing-room all to herself