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.