Lady Charlotte made no reply, and we took the trail that wound down into this maze of mingling colors and lights and shadows.

Everywhere lay the fallen leaves, brown and yellow and gold;--everywhere on our trail, on the green mosses and among the dead ferns.

And as we rode, leaves fluttered down from the trees above silently through the tangled boughs, and lay with the others on moss and rock and beaten trail.
The flowers were all gone; but the Little Swan sang as ever its many-voiced song, as it flowed in pools and eddies and cascades, with here and there a golden leaf upon its black waters.

Ah! how often in weary, dusty days these sights and sounds and silences have come to me and brought my heart rest! As we began to climb up into the open, I glanced at my companion's face.
The canyon had done its work with her as with all who loved it.

The touch of pride that was the habit of her face was gone, and in its place rested the earnest wonder of a little child, while in her eyes lay the canyon's tender glow.