And if the
simplicity in her face had not been equal to the wit, Mr. Carleton would
never have ventured the look of admiration he bestowed on her. He knew it
was safe. _Approbation_ she saw, and it made her smile the rosier; but the
admiration was a step beyond her; Fleda could make nothing of it.
They descended the mountain now with a hasty step, for the day was wearing
well on. At the spot where he had stood so long when they went up, Mr.
Carleton paused again for a minute. In mountain scenery every hour makes a
change. The sun was lower now, the lights and shadows more strongly
contrasted, the sky of a yet calmer blue, cool and clear towards the
horizon. The scene said still the same that it had said a few hours
before, with a touch more of sadness; it seemed to whisper, "All things
have an end--thy time may not be for ever--do what thou wouldest
do--'while ye have light believe in the light that ye may be children of
the light.'"
Whether Mr. Carleton read it so or not, he stood for a minute motionless
and went down the mountain looking so grave that Fleda did not venture to
speak to him, till they reached the neighbourhood of the spring.
"What are you searching for, Miss Fleda?" said her friend.
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