t me to allow my granddaughter to throw herself
away upon the first adventurer who made her an offer.'

'Hammond is not an adventurer.'

'Very well, I will not call him so, if the term offends you. But Mr.
Hammond is--Mr. Hammond, and I cannot allow Lesbia to marry Mr. Hammond
or Mr. Anybody, and I am very sorry you have brought him here again.
There is Mary, a silly, romantic girl. I am very much afraid he has made
an impression upon her. She colours absurdly when she talks of him, and
flew into a passion with me the other day when I ventured to hint that
he is not a Rothschild, and that his society must be expensive to you.'

'His society does not cost me anything. Hammond is the soul of
independence. He worked as a blacksmith in Canada for three months, just
to see what life was like in a wild district. There never was such a
fellow to rough it. And as for Molly, well, now, really, if he happened
to take a fancy to her, and if she happened to like him, I wouldn't bosh
the business, if I were you, grandmother. Take my word for it, Molly
might do worse.'

'Of course. She might marry a chimney sweep. There is no answering for a
girl of her erratic nature. She is silly enough and romantic enough for
anything; but I shall not countenance her if she wants to throw herself
away on a person without prospects or connections; and I look to you,
Maulevrier, to take care of her, now that I am a wretched log chained to
this room.'

'You may rely upon me, grandmother, Molly shall come to no harm, if I
can help it.'

'Thank you,' said her ladyship, touching her bell twice.

The two clear silvery strokes were a summons for Halcott, the maid, who
appeared immediately.

'Tell Mrs. Power to get his lordship's room ready immediately, and to
give Mr. Hammond the room he had last summer,' said Lady Maulevrier,
with a sigh of resignation.

While Maulevrier was with his grandmother John Hammond was smoking a
solitary cigar on the terrace, contemplating the mountain landscape in
its cold March greyness, and wondering very much to find himself again
at Fellside. He had gone forth from that house full of passionate
indignation, shaking off the dust from his feet, sternly resolved never
again to cross the threshold of that fateful cave, where he had met his
cold-hearted Circe. And now, because Circe was safe out of the way, he
had come back to the cavern; and he was feeling all the pain that a man
feels who beholds again the scene of