A light wind was blowing, and it wrapped her dress of tender, faded blue around her young limbs, and lifted her loosened hair, gilded by the sunshine into the likeness of an aureole.

Her face was serious and wondering, but fair as a woodland flower.

She had placed her hand upon the head of the child who was with her, clinging to her dress.

The green knoll formed a pedestal; behind was the sky, as blue as that of Italy; the two figures might have been some painted altar-piece.
The sprightly company, which had taken for its motto "Sic juvat transcendere montes," looked and worshiped.

There was a moment of silent devotion, broken by one of the gentlemen demanding if 't were not time for dinner; another remarked that they might go much farther and fare much worse, in respect of a cool, sweet spot in which to rest during the heat of the afternoon; and a third boldly proposed that they go no farther at all that day.