than I had yet seen them; they picked up a basket-full of shells; they set up a mark by which to watch the receding waters; they entered into conversation with a boatman, and strolled on till they came to the little bridge which spans a rivulet at the head of the loch.  I saw them lean over the parapet, to watch the gurgling brook beneath.  Then they turned, to survey the high mountains above them; and after awhile, they directed their steps to the base of one of them.  I saw them gradually mount the green slope, turning every now and then to gaze at the scene below, until I could but indistinctly discern their figures, amidst the shadows which were beginning to spread over the valley and the lower parts of the mountain.  I knew that the mountain which they were ascending was not often tried either by natives or by strangers, for it was boggy and pathless; though tempting to the eye by its verdure, and by a fine pile of rocks, which stood like a crown on the brow of the first grand ascent.

The richest glow of the evening sun was upon the mountain’s brow; light crimson clouds were floating, as it seemed to me, just over the head of the youth, as he mounted higher and higher—­springing from one point to another.  I saw his slight form on the very ridge, though lessened almost to a point by the distance, yet conspicuous by its motion, and by the relief of the glowing sky behind.  He disappeared.  I looked for his sister:  she was still sitting on her sunny seat, while all below was wrapped in a deep grey shadow.  I laid down my glass, and resumed my work for awhile.  I looked again; she was still there, and alone—­but the sun-light was gone!  I thought she looked forlorn; and I wished her brother would return to her.  Again the sun burst forth on the mountain-top—­it had only been obscured by a cloud.  I saw the lady start from her seat, and turn round.  An eagle had sprung from among the rocks:  she was watching its flight—­it ascended into the blue sky, and was lost to sight.  She sauntered a few steps on one side of her seat, then on the other, and looked around her.  “I wish her brother would return to her,” thought I again.  She shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked up:  but vainly!  The shadows had crept apace up the mountain side:  her seat was no longer sunny, but she sat down again.

I had by this time become, I knew not why, rather nervous:  my hand shook so, that I could not fix the glass.  I laid it down, and went to take a turn in my garden.  I came back presently to the window, and once more turned my glass in the direction of the mountain.  The seat was vacant.  “They are coming down together, I hope,” thought I.  “It is high time they should; it is becoming dark and chilly!” But I could not trace them.  At length I saw something white fluttering in the breeze.  It was so small that I should not have discerned it, if my very power of sight had not been sharpened by the anxiety I began to feel for these young people.