Isabel led her band round to an ascent, steep but not long; her plan was to go up the hill through the wood, and appear on the top of the quarry, so many graceful figures high in the air against the blue sky, for the indolent smokers below to envy and admire. Isabel was a slender creature with a pale complexion; the slight color produced by the exercise would be becoming. Rachel, who was dimpled, "never could climb"; her "ankles" were "not strong." (And certainly they were very small ankles for such a weight of dimples.) The party now divided itself under these two leaders; those who were indolent staid with Rachel; those who were not afraid of exercise went with Isabel. A few went for amusement, without motive; among these was Anne. One went for wrath; and this was Valeria Morle. It is hard for a neutral-faced girl with a fixed opinion of her own importance to learn the lesson of her real insignificance, when removed from the background of home, at a place like Caryl's. Valeria was there, mistakenly visiting an aunt for two weeks, and with the calm security of the country mind, she had mentally selected Ward Heathcote as her knight for the time being, and had bestowed upon him in consequence several little speeches and smiles carefully calculated to produce an impression, to mean a great deal to any one who was watching. But Heathcote was not watching; the small well-regulated country smiles had about as much effect as the twitterings of a wren would have in a wood full of nightingales. Miss Morle could not understand it; had they not slain their thousands, nay, ten thousands (young lady's computation), in Morleville? She now went up the hill in silent wrath, glad to do something and to be away from Heathcote. Still, she could not help believing that he would miss her; men had been known to be very much interested in girls, and yet make no sign for a long time. They watched them from a distance. In this case Valeria was to have her hopes realized. She was to be watched, and from a distance. The eight who reached the summit sported gayly to and fro for a while, now near the edge, now back, gathering flowers and throwing them over, calling down to the smokers, who lay and watched them, without, however, any burning desire especially visible on their countenances to climb up and join them. Valeria, with a stubborn determination to make herself in some way conspicuous, went to the edge of the cliff, and even leaned over; she had one arm round a young tree, but half of her shoes (by no means small ones) were over the verge, and the breeze showed that they were. Anne saw it, and spoke to Isabel. "If she will do it, she will," answered Isabel; "and the more we notice her, the more she will persist. She is one of those dull girls intended by Nature to be always what is called sensible. And when one of _those_ girls takes to making a fool of herself, her idiocy is colossal."