eleven o'clock
This done , he rang for Maulevrier 's valet , and asked that person to look after his luggage and bring it on to Scotland with his master 's things ; and then , without a word of adieu to anyone , John Hammond went out of the house , with the Gladstone bag in his hand , and shook the dust of Fellside off his feet . He ordered a fly at the Prince of Wales 's Hotel , and drove to Keswick , whence he went on to the Lodore . The gloom and spaciousness of Derwentwater , grey in the gathering dusk , suited his humour better than the emerald prettiness of Grasmere -- the roar of the waterfall made music in his ear . He dined in a private room , and spent the evening roaming on the shores of the lake , and at eleven o'clock went back to his hotel and sat late into the night reading Heine , and thinking of the girl who had refused him . Mr. Hammond 's letter was delivered to Lord Maulevrier five minutes before dinner , as he sat in the drawing-room with her ladyship and Mary . Poor Mary had put on another pretty gown for dinner , still bent upon effacing Mr. Hammond 's image of her as a tousled , frantic creature in torn and muddy raiment . She sat watching the door , just as Hammond had watched it three hours ago .