t of the hill. Fairfield yonder,
that long smooth slope of verdure which a little while ago looked
emerald green in the sunlight, now wore a soft and shadowy hue. All the
world was greyer and dimmer in a moment, as it were, and Coniston Lake
in its distant valley disappeared beneath a veil of mist, while the
shimmering sea-line upon the verge of the horizon melted and vanished
among the clouds that overhung it. The weather changes very quickly in
this part of the world. Sharp drops of rain came spitting at Hammond and
Mary as they climbed the crest of the Pike, and stopped, somewhat
breathless, to look back at Maulevrier. He was trudging blithely down
the winding way, and seemed to have done wonders while they had been
doing very little.

'How fast he is going!' said Mary.

'Easy is the descent of Avernus. He is going down-hill, and we are going
upwards. That makes all the difference in life, you see,' answered
Hammond.

Mary looked at him with divine compassion. She thought that for him the
hill of life would be harder than Helvellyn. He was brave, honest,
clever; but her grandmother had impressed upon her that modern
civilisation hardly has room for a young man who wants to get on in the
world, without either fortune or powerful connexions. He had better go
to Australia and keep sheep, than attempt the impossible at home.

The rain was a passing shower, hardly worth speaking of, but the glory
of the day was over. The sky was grey, and there were dark clouds
creeping up from the sea-line. Silvery Windermere had taken a leaden
hue; and now they turned their last fond look upon the Westmoreland
valley, and set their faces steadily towards Cumberland, and the fine
grassy plateau on the top of the hill.

All this was not done in a flash. It took them some time to scale
Dolly's stubborn breast, and it took them another hour to reach Seat
Sandal; and by the time they came to the iron gate in the fence, which
at this point divides the two counties, the atmosphere had thickened
ominously, and dark wreaths of fog were floating about and around them,
whirled here and there by a boisterous wind which shrieked and roared at
them with savage fury, as if it were the voice of some Titan monarch of
the mountain protesting against this intrusion upon his domain.

'I'm afraid you won't see the Scottish hills,' shouted Mary, holding on
her little cloth hat.

She was obliged to shout at the top of her voice, though she was close