Her mistress stood, drinking in the scene in awestruck silence. The sublimity of the view was too great for her poor speech to do it justice. And Percy was also silent. The single interjection had burst from him as his eyes first took in the grand panorama, and that was all.
The sea; the many islands; the long stretch of rugged coast; the beautiful park; the old castle; the forest; the silvery lakelets, and the sparkling streams—altogether, it was a picture well worth climbing to see. Cordelia gazed her fill—gazed until the first whelming emotions of awe were past, and then pointed out certain points with regard to which she wished for information. Her guide explained all he could—told her all he knew; and at length suggested that they had better be thinking of home.
“But the flowers! You promised me I should have them,” insisted Cordelia. She was playful in her manner, yet earnest.
“Will you take time for that, lady? They are somewhat out of our way; but you shall have them, if you say so.”
“Oh! never mind the time. A little twilight won’t harm us. Let’s have the flowers.”
Evidently she was determined to prolong the walk, and, had it not been for those threatening clouds, her guide would have liked it as well as she.
“Dear lady—I tell you, truly, I do not like the looks of those clouds. I’m afraid we shall have rain before we get home, unless we make all possible haste.”
But the lady insisted; and the guide yielded. A detour was made to the eastward and the flowers found and secured. Cordelia was happy.
She had wanted the sweet little treasures of scent and blossom for a long time, and she could not thank her kind guide enough for his goodness in getting them for her.
“Fifteen minutes of six!” said Percy, in a tone of hushed anxiety. “Oh! what would I give for a good horse.”