But the gold-red ramparts against the sky, the crannied cliffs, the crags of the eagles, the lofty, distant blank walls, where the winds of the gods had written their wars--these haunted because they could never be possessed.

Carley had often gazed at the Alps as at celebrated pictures.

She admired, she appreciated--then she forgot.
But the canyon heights did not affect her that way.

They vaguely dissatisfied, and as she could not be sure of what they dissatisfied, she had to conclude that it was in herself.

To see, to watch, to dream, to seek, to strive, to endure, to find! Was that what they meant?
They might make her thoughtful of the vast earth, and its endless age, and its staggering mystery.