The promise was abundantly fulfilled;
it was a most lovely, wild, woodway path; but withal not a
little steep and rocky. Ellen began to grow weary. The lane
went on towards the north; the path rather led off towards the
southern edge of the mountain, rising all the while; but
before she reached that, Ellen came to what she thought a good
resting-place, where the path opened upon a small level
platform or ledge of the hill. The mountain rose steep behind
her, and sank very steep immediately before her, leaving a
very superb view of the open country from the north-east to
the south-east. Carpeted with moss, and furnished with fallen
stones and pieces of rock, this was a fine resting-place for
the wayfarer, or loitering-place for the lover of nature.
Ellen seated herself on one of the stones, and looked sadly
and wearily towards the east, at first very careless of the
exceeding beauty of what she beheld there.
For miles and miles, on every side but the west, lay stretched
before her a beautifully broken country. The November haze
hung over it now like a thin veil, giving great sweetness and
softness to the scene. Far in the distance a range of low
hills showed like a misty cloud; near by, at the mountain's
foot, the fields and farmhouses and roads lay, — a pictured
map. About a mile and a half to the south, rose the mountain
where Nancy Vawse lived, craggy and bare; but the leafless
trees, and stern, jagged rocks were wrapped in the haze; and
through this the sun, now near the setting, threw his
mellowing rays, touching every slope and ridge with a rich,
warm glow.
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