True, he did now and then glance at the book, but much oftener his
fine deep eyes were looking out of the carriage window and wandering
over the broad expanse of scenery that began to unfold beneath them,
as the carriage mounted higher and higher up the mountains. Sometimes,
when he appeared most intent on the volume, those eyes were glancing
over it towards a little wan face opposite, that began to blush and
half smile whenever the thoughtful but kindly look of those eyes fell
upon it.

The carriage at last reached a platform on the spur of a mountain
ridge where the road made a bold curve, commanding one of the finest
views, perhaps--nay, we will not have perhaps, but certainly, in the
civilized world.

You should have seen that little pale face then, how it sparkled and
glowed with intelligence, nay, with something more than intelligence.
The deep, grey eyes lighted up like lamps suddenly kindled, the wide
but shapely mouth broke into a smile that spread and brightened over
every feature of her face. She started forward, grasped the
window-frame, and looked out with an expression of such eager joy that
the judge who was gazing upon her, glanced down at his book with a
well-pleased smile. "I thought so--I was sure of it. She feels all the
grandeur, all the beauty," he said to himself, inly, but to all
appearance intent on his book. "Now let us see how the others take
it."

"Isabel, Isabel, look out--look look," whispered the excited child,
turning with that sort of wild earnestness peculiar to persons of
vivid imaginations, when once set on fire with some beautiful thing