She leaped as lightly as her brother, never touching earth with her hands; and rising from the proper contraction of the legs in taking the descent, she quoted her father: 'Mean it when you're doing it.' 'For no enemy's shot is equal to a weak heart in the act,' Chillon pursued the quotation, laying his hand on her shoulder for a sign of approval.

She looked up at him.
They passed down the garden and a sloping meadow to a brook swollen by heavy rains; over the brook on a narrow plank, and up a steep and stony pathway, almost a watercourse, between rocks, to another meadow, level with the house, that led ascending through a firwood; and there the change to thicker darkness told them light was abroad, though whether of the clouded moon or of the first grey of the quiet revolution was uncertain.

Metallic light of a subterranean realm, it might have been thought.
'You remember everything of father,' Carinthia said.

'We both do,' said Chillon.
She pressed her brother's arm.

'We will.