It was a lovely morning, sultry, summer-like, albeit September had just begun. The tennis lawn, which had been levelled on one side of the house, was surrounded on three sides by shrubberies planted forty years ago, in the beginning of Lady Maulevrier's widowhood. All loveliest trees grew there in perfection, sheltered by the mighty wall of the mountain, fed by the mists from the lake. Larch and mountain ash, and Lawsonian cyprus,—deodara and magnolia, arbutus, and silver broom, acacia and lilac, flourished here in that rich beauty which made every cottage garden in the happy district a little paradise; and here in a semi-circular recess at one end of the lawn were rustic chairs and tables and an umbrella tent. This was Lady Lesbia's chosen retreat on summer mornings, and a favourite place for afternoon tea.
Mr. Hammond followed the two ladies to their bower.
'This is to be my last morning,' he said, looking at Lesbia. 'Will you think me a great bore if I spend it with you?'
'We shall think it very nice of you,' answered Lesbia, without a vestige of emotion; 'especially if you will read to us.'
'I will do any thing to make myself useful. What shall I read?'
'Anything you like. What do you say to Tennyson?'
'That he is a noble poet, a teacher of all good; but too philosophical for my present mood. May I read you some of Heine's ballads, those songs which you sing so exquisitely, or rather some you do not sing, and which will be fresher to you. My German is far from perfect, but I am told it is passable, and Fräulein Müller can throw her scissors at me when my accent is too dreadful.'
'You speak German beautifully,' said Fräulein. 'I wonder where you learned it?'
'I have been a good deal in Germany, and I had a Hanoverian valet who was quite a gentleman, and spoke admirably. I think I learned more from him than from grammars or dictionaries. I'll go and fetch Heine.'
'What a very agreeable person Mr. Hammond is,' said Fräulein, when he was gone. 'We shall quite miss him.'