h morbid curiosity. His lordship, sensitive on all
points touching his own ease and comfort, was keenly conscious of this
unflattering inquisitiveness.

The journey, protracted by Lord Maulevrier's languor and ill-health,
dragged its slow length along for nearly a fortnight; until it seemed to
Lady Maulevrier as if they had been travelling upon those dismal, flat,
unpicturesque roads for months. Each day was so horribly like yesterday.
The same hedgerows and flat fields, and passing glimpse of river or
canal. The same absence of all beauty in the landscape--the same formal
hotel rooms, and smirking landladies--and so on till they came to
Lancaster, after which the country became more interesting--hills arose
in the background. Even the smoky manufacturing towns through which
they passed without stopping, were less abominable than the level
monotony of the Midland counties.

But now as they drew nearer the hills the weather grew colder, snow was
spoken of, and when they got into Westmoreland the mountain-peaks
gleamed whitely against a lead-coloured sky.

'You ought not to have brought me here in such weather,' complained the
Earl, shivering in his sables, as he sat in his corner of the travelling
chariot, looking discontentedly at the gloomy landscape. 'What is to
become of us if we are caught in a snowstorm?'

'We shall have no snow worth talking about before we are safely housed
at Fellside, and then we can defy the elements,' said Lady Maulevrier,
coolly.

They slept that night at Oxenholme, and started next morning, under a
clean, bright sky, intending to take luncheon at Windermere, and to be
at home by nightfall.

But by the time they got to Windermere the sky had changed to a dark
grey, and the people at the hotel prophesied a heavy fall before night,
and urged the Earl and Countess to go no further that day. The latter
part of the road to Fellside was rough and hilly. If there should be a
snowstorm the horses would never be able to drag the carriage up the
steepest bit of the way. Here, however, Lord Maulevrier's obstinacy came
into play. He would not endure another night at an hotel so near his own
house. He was sick to death of travelling, and wanted to be at rest
among comfortable surroundings.

'It was murder to bring me here,' he said to his wife. 'If I had gone to
Hastings I should have been a new man by this time. As it is I am a
great deal worse than when I landed.'

Everyone at the hotel notic