The mass of cloud overhead
was almost impervious to such daylight as still lingered on; the
snow lay several inches deep upon the ground, and the slanting
downfall which still went on threatened to considerably increase its
thickness before the morning. The Prospect Hotel, a building
standing near the wild north coast of Lower Wessex, looked so lonely
and so useless at such a time as this that a passing wayfarer would
have been led to forget summer possibilities, and to wonder at the
commercial courage which could invest capital, on the basis of the
popular taste for the picturesque, in a country subject to such
dreary phases. That the district was alive with visitors in August
seemed but a dim tradition in weather so totally opposed to all that
tempts mankind from home. However, there the hotel stood immovable;
and the cliffs, creeks, and headlands which were the primary
attractions of the spot, rising in full view on the opposite side of
the valley, were now but stern angular outlines, while the townlet
in front was tinged over with a grimy dirtiness rather than the
pearly gray that in summer lent such beauty to its appearance.
Within the hotel commanding this outlook the landlord walked idly
about with his hands in his pockets, not in the least expectant of a
visitor, and yet unable to settle down to any occupation which
should compensate in some degree for the losses that winter idleness
entailed on his regular profession.
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