But Nicie did not know this part of it nearly so well as that which lay between Glashruach and the cottage, and after they had climbed some distance, often stopping and turning to look down on the valley below, the prospect of which, with its streams and river, kept still widening and changing as they ascended, they arrived at a place where the path grew very doubtful, and she could not tell in which of two directions they ought to go.
"I'll take this way, and you take that, Nicie," said Ginevra, "and if I find there is no path my way, I will come back to yours; and if you find there is no path your way, you will come back to mine." It was a childish proposal, and one to which Nicie should not have consented, but she was little more than a child herself.

Advancing a short distance in doubt, and the path re-appearing quite plainly, she sat down, expecting her little mistress to return directly.

No thought of anxiety crossed her mind: how should one, in broad sunlight, on a mountain-side, in the first of summer, and with the long day before them?
So, there sitting in peace, Nicie fell into a maidenly reverie, and so there Nicie sat for a long time, half dreaming in the great light, without once really thinking about anything.

All at once she came to herself: some latent fear had exploded in her heart: yes! what could have become of her little mistress?
She jumped to her feet, and shouted "Missie! Missie Galbraith! Ginny!" but no answer came back.

The mountain was as still as at midnight.