As the carriage rolled slowly and carefully along this rough road, the music of distant waters fell upon the listening ear, and from the faintest hum that could hardly be heard, it gradually swelled into a deafening roar that filled the valley.
“What is that?” fearfully inquired Rosa.
“What is what?” echoed Sybil.
“That horrid noise!”
“Oh! that is the Black Torrent, the head of our Black River,” answered Sybil in a low, pleased tone; for the sound of her native waters, however dreadful it might be to strange ears, was delightful to hers.
“Oh! more blackness!” shivered Rosa.
“But it is a beautiful cascade! All beautiful things are not necessarily light, you know.”
“No, indeed,” answered Rosa, “for the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life is very dark.” And she raised and pressed the hand of her hostess, to give point to her words.
Sybil did not like the implied flattery, delicately as it was conveyed. She drew her hand away; and then, to heal the little hurt she might have made in doing so, she opened the window and said, pleasantly:
“Look, Mrs. Blondelle! You see the lights of our home now.”