life bright and happy, and that evil days should never come to her; and
he was not the man to promise that which he was not able to perform.

The house seemed terribly dull now that the two young men were gone.
There was an oppressive silence in the rooms which had lately resounded
with Maulevrier's frank, boyish laughter, and with his friend's deep,
manly tones--a silence broken only by the click of Fräulein Müller's
needles.

The Fräulein was not disposed to be sympathetic or agreeable about Lady
Mary's engagement. Firstly, she had not been consulted about it. The
thing had been done, she considered, in an underhand manner; and Lady
Maulevrier, who had begun by strenuously opposing the match, had been
talked over in a way that proved the latent weakness of that great
lady's character. Secondly, Miss Müller, having herself for some reason
missed such joys as are involved in being wooed and won, was disposed to
look sourly upon all love affairs, and to take a despondent view of all
matrimonial engagements.

She did not say anything openly uncivil to Mary Haselden; but she let
the damsel see that she pitied her and despised her infatuated
condition; and this was so unpleasant that Mary was fain to fall back
upon the society of ponies and terriers, and to take up her pilgrim's
staff and go wandering over the hills, carrying her happy thoughts into
solitary places, and sitting for hours in a heathery hollow, steeped in
a sea of summer light, and trying to paint the mountain side and the
rush of the waterfall. Her sketch-book was an excuse for hours of
solitude, for the indulgence of an endless day-dream.

Sometimes she went among her humble friends in the Grasmere cottages, or