They descended the mountain now with a hasty step, for the day was wearing well on. At the spot where he had stood so long when they went up, Mr. Carleton paused again for a minute. In mountain scenery every hour makes a change. The sun was lower now, the lights and shadows more strongly contrasted, the sky of a yet calmer blue, cool and clear towards the horizon. The scene said still the same that it had said a few hours before, with a touch more of sadness; it seemed to whisper, "All things have an end--thy time may not be for ever--do what thou wouldest do--'while ye have light believe in the light that ye may be children of the light.'"
Whether Mr. Carleton read it so or not, he stood for a minute motionless and went down the mountain looking so grave that Fleda did not venture to speak to him, till they reached the neighbourhood of the spring.
"What are you searching for, Miss Fleda?" said her friend.
She was making a busy quest here and there by the side of the little stream.
"I was looking to see if I could find a mullein leaf," said Fleda.
"A mullein leaf? what do you want it for?"
"I want it--to make a drinking cup of," said Fleda, her intent bright eyes peering keenly about in every direction.
"A mullein leaf! that is too rough; one of these golden leaves--what are they?--will do better, won't it?"
"That is hickory," said Fleda. "No; the mullein leaf is the best because it holds the water so nicely.--Here it is!--"
And folding up one of the largest leaves into a most artist-like cup, she presented it to Mr. Carleton.