Preceding her through the soft carpeted vault with a woodman's
instinct,--for there was apparently no trail to be seen,--the soft inner
twilight began to give way to the outer stronger day, and presently she
was startled to see the clear blue of the sky before her on apparently
the same level as the brown pine-tessellated floor she was treading. Not
only did this show her that she was crossing a ridge of the upland, but
a few moments later she had passed beyond the woods to a golden hillside
that sloped towards a leafy, sheltered, and exquisitely-proportioned
valley. A tiny but picturesque tower, and a few straggling roofs and
gables, the flashing of a crystal stream through the leaves, and a
narrow white ribbon of road winding behind it indicated the hostelry
they were seeking. So peaceful and unfrequented it looked, nestling
between the hills, that it seemed as if they had discovered it.
With his hand at times upon the bridle, at others merely caressing her
mustang's neck, he led the way; there were a few breathless places where
the crown of his straw hat appeared between her horse's reins, and again
when she seemed almost slipping over on his shoulder, but they were
passed with such frank fearlessness and invincible youthful confidence
on the part of her escort that she felt no timidity. There were moments
when a bit of the charmed landscape unfolding before them overpowered
them both, and they halted to gaze,--sometimes without a word, or only a
significant gesture of sympathy and attention.
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