If Mary were to do this thing, which she longed to do, she must hazard a lecture from her governess, and probably a biting reproof from her grandmother.
'Will you trust yourself with me, Lady Mary ?' asked Hammond, looking at her with a gaze so earnest--so much more earnest than the occasion required--that her blushes deepened and her eyelids fell.

'I have done a good deal of climbing in my day, and I am not afraid of anything Helvellyn can do to me.

I promise to take great care of you if you will come.' How could she refuse?
How could she for one moment pretend that she did not trust him, that her heart did not yearn to go with him.

She would have climbed the shingly steep of Cotapaxi with him--or crossed the great Sahara with him--and feared nothing.

Her trust in him was infinite--as infinite as her reverence and love.
'I am afraid Fraeulein would make a fuss,' she faltered, after a pause.
'Hang Fraeulein,' cried Maulevrier, puffing at his cigarette, and kicking about the stones in the clear running water.