w if you hadn't
turned off at the woods."

"I couldn't help it, it was so beautiful."

"Isn't it?"

"Perfect."

"And such shadows, and such intensity of color."

"Wonderful!--and all along the ridge, looking down that defile!"

"Yes, and that point where it seems as if you had only to stretch out
your hand to pick a manzanita berry from the other side of the canyon,
half a mile across!"

"Yes, and that first glimpse of the valley through the Gothic gateway of
rocks!"

"And the color of those rocks,--cinnamon and bronze with the light green
of the Yerba buena vine splashing over them."

"Yes, but for color DID you notice that hillside of yellow poppies
pouring down into the valley like a golden Niagara?"

"Certainly,--and the perfect clearness of everything."

"And yet such complete silence and repose!"

"Oh, yes!"

"Ah, yes!"

They were both gravely nodding and shaking their heads with sparkling
eyes and brightened color, looking not at each other but at the far
landscape vignetted through a lozenge-shaped wind opening in the trees.
Suddenly Mrs. Ashwood straightened herself in the saddle, looked grave,
lifted the reins and apparently the ten years with them that had dropped
from her. But she said in her easiest well-bred tones, and a half sigh,
"Then I must take the road back again to where it forks?"

"Oh, no! you can go by Crystal Spring. It's no further, and I'll show
you the way. But you'd better stop and rest yourself and your horse for
a little while at the Springs Hotel. It's a very nice place. Many people
ride there from San Francisco to luncheon and return. I wonder that your
party didn't prefer it; and if they are looking for you,--as they surely
must be," he said, as if with a sudden conception of her importance,
"they'll come there when they find you're not at San Mateo."

This seemed reasonable, although the process of being "fetched" and
taking the five miles ride, which she had enjoyed so much alone,
in company was not attractive. "Couldn't I go on at once?" she said
impulsively.

"You would meet them sooner," he said thoughtfully.

This was quite enough for Mrs. Ashwood. "I think I'll rest this poor
horse, who is really tired," she, said with charming hypocrisy, "and
stop at the hotel."

She saw his face brighten. Perhaps he was the son of the hotel
proprietor, or a youthful partner himself. "I suppose you live here?"
she suggested gently. "You seem to know the place so well."