Did he think her altogether heartless because she so glibly renounced him?
No, he was too just for that.

He called her only half-hearted.

She was like the cat in the adage, 'Letting I dare not, wait upon I would.' But he told himself with one deep sigh of resignation that she was lost to him for ever.
'I have tried her, and found her not worth the winning,' he said.
The house, even the lovely landscape smiling under his windows, the pastoral valley, smooth lake and willowy island, seemed hateful to him.
He felt himself hemmed round by those green hills, by yonder brown and rugged wall of Nabb Scar, stifled for want of breathing space.

The landscape was lovely enough, but it was like a beautiful grave.

He longed to get away from it.
'Another man would follow her to St.Bees,' he said.