By the time we reached the canyon the sun was riding high and pouring its rays full into all the deep nooks where the shadows mostly lay.
There were no shadows to-day, except such as the trees cast upon the green moss beds and the black rocks.

The tops of the tall elms were sere and rusty, but the leaves of the rugged oaks that fringed the canyon's lips shone a rich and glossy brown.

All down the sides the poplars and delicate birches, pale yellow, but sometimes flushing into orange and red, stood shimmering in the golden light, while here and there the broad-spreading, feathery sumachs made great splashes of brilliant crimson upon the yellow and gold.

Down in the bottom stood the cedars and the balsams, still green.

We stood some moments silently gazing into this tangle of interlacing boughs and shimmering leaves, all glowing in yellow light, then Lady Charlotte broke the silence in tones soft and reverent as if she stood in a great cathedral.
"And this is Gwen's canyon!" "Yes, but she never sees it now," I said, for I could never ride through without thinking of the child to whose heart this was so dear, but whose eyes never rested upon it.