Dennistoun's letter
in the morning, for Elinor, though she had said so much about him, had
given no indication who her lover was. Who was the man?

CHAPTER II.

It was a blustering afternoon when John, with his bag in his hand, set
out from the station at Hurrymere for Mrs. Dennistoun's cottage. Why
that station should have had "mere" in its name I have never been able
to divine, for there is no water to be seen for miles, scarcely so much
as a duckpond: but, perhaps, there are two meanings to the words. It was
a steep walk up a succession of slopes, and the name of the one upon
which the cottage stood was Windyhill not an encouraging title on such
a day, but true enough to the character of the place. The cottage lay,
however, at the head of a combe or shelving irregular valley, just
sheltered from the winds on a little platform of its own, and commanding
a view which was delightful in its long sweeping distance, and varied
enough to be called picturesque, especially by those who were familiar
with nothing higher than the swelling slopes of the Surrey hills. It was
wild, little cultivated, save in the emerald green of the bottom, a
few fields which lay where a stream ought to have been. Nowadays there
are red-roofed houses peeping out at every corner, but at that period
fashion had not even heard of Hurrymere, and, save for a farm-house or
two, a village alehouse and posting-house at a corner of the high-road,
and one or two great houses within the circuit of six or seven miles,
retired within their trees and parks, there were few habitations. Mrs.
Dennistoun's cottage was red-roofed like the rest, but much subdued by
lichens, and its walls were covered by climbing plants, so that it
struck no bold note upon the wild landscape, yet was visible afar off in
glimpses, from the much-winding road, for a mile or two before it could
be come at. There was, indeed, a nearer way, necessitating a sharp
scramble, but when John came just in sight of the house his heart failed
him a little, and, notwithstanding that his bag had come to feel very
heavy by this time, he deliberately chose the longer round to gain a
little time--as we all do sometimes, when we are most anxious to be
at our journey's end, and hear what has to be told us. It looked very
peaceful seated in that fold of the hill, no tossing of trees about it,
though a little higher up the slim oaks and beeches of the copse were
flinging themselves about against the