There was little variety in the view—only a wide stretch of broken hill country, with the grey rock showing through in wide irregular patches, and along the dry water-courses—all changing into a haze of smoky blue in the distance, where the mountains seemed to touch the sky. Dr Justin and a friend, who in their boyish days had been often at the Peak, and through all the hills within sight of it, pointed out to each other, the position of their old familiar haunts—the best trout stream, Silver Lake, the Glen and the Gorge, and by the help of a field-glass tried to point them out to the others. They could see gleams of blue water here and there between the nearer hills; and higher up, a tinge of bright colour where the early frost had already been, but almost everywhere the summer green prevailed. It was a scene strange and beautiful; and to those who looked upon it for the first time, the charm and interest lay in its wide extent and in the utter silence and solitude resting upon it. There were farms and cottage homes, and even towns and mills and churches, scattered out of sight among the hills; workers and pleasure-seekers—the busy and idle—were going to and fro among them; but the only signs of human life or labour which came up to those who were gazing down on the wide expanse were the shriek of the locomotive and the wisp of vaunting vapour which for a moment lingered on its track.
Mrs Stone sat a little withdrawn from the rest, looking northward also, with a strange fixed look on her face—the look which made people who did not know her very well say she was hard. She shook her head, smiling a little, when Fidelia asked her if she would not like to look at the mountains through the glass.
“Well, no, I don’t seem to care much about it. I didn’t come to see anything in particular. I wanted to see how it would seem to be up here again—that is all.”
“And how does it seem?” asked Dr Justin, who had drawn near with his glass in his hand.
“Well, I don’t know as I could tell you. I am not sorry I came. I guess I have thought about this place as often as about any other place in the state in the last ten years. No; I am not sorry I came. I don’t know as I’m sorry I came last time. It is all right, I expect.”
“Tell us about last time,” said Fidelia softly.
“Some time I’ll tell you, maybe. I guess I shall need all my breath before I get up the Peak. I am not so spry as I was last time I came.”
“I’ll help you up,” said Fidelia.
“Oh, I guess I shan’t need any help! I’ll start now, and take it slowly. I don’t suppose I shall miss the way.”