Suddenly they emerged on the crest of a narrow ridge from which they could see off over range after range of mountain peaks on one side, growing dimmer, bluer, and more evanescent until lost in a heavenly distance, and on the other side a valley dropping down and down into a deep and purple gloom richly wooded and dense, surrounded by precipices topped with scrubby, wind-blown pines and oaks—a wild and rocky descent into mystery and seclusion. Here and there a slender thread of smoke, intensely blue, rose circling and filtering through the purple density against a black-green background of hemlocks.
Contrasted with the view on the other side, so celestially fair, this seemed to present something sinister, yet weirdly beautiful—a baffling, untamed wilderness. Along this ridge the road ran straight before them for a distance, stony and bleak, and the air swept over it sweet and strong from the sea, far away.
"Wait—wait a moment," he called, as his panting horse rounded the last curve of the climb, and she had already put her own to a gallop. She reined in sharply and came back to him, a glowing vision. "Stand a moment near me. We'll let our horses rest a bit and ourselves, too. There is strength and vitality in this air; breathe it in deeply. What joy to be alive!"
She came near, and their horses held quiet communion, putting their noses together contentedly. Cassandra lifted her head high and turned her face toward the billowed