Towards the end of one lovely day, she left the confines of the anderoon, attended by her page, who had now learned to love her, not more from his affection for her brother than for her own endearing qualities; looking around from the open wicket and seeing none to impede her progress, she took her way through the grove towards a valley she had long wished to explore, at some distance from the house. It was a lovely place, originally formed from a fissure in the mountains, increased by the constant wear of winter floods. Under the summer heat, the torrent had dwindled into a tiny and clear rivulet, in one part leaping in a bright cascade, then flowing in a gentle current, and next rushing over a ledge of rocks, and falling into the larger valley, where it expanded into a tiny lake. The lady and her attendant walked on by its side over the soft velvet herbage which the receding waters had left, and began to climb the rocky sides of the glen, the summits of which were now blooming with various sweet scented shrubs and herbs. A soft and mellow sky cast a soothing influence over the scene, and the air was laden with fragrant odours. Thoughtless of the difficulties they had passed, and fearless of the steep and rocky paths, they clambered on, leaping lightly from ledge to ledge, and holding by the shrubs and plants to aid their steps, till at length they reached a platform, where they rested to view the broad and beautiful valley into which the little ravine opened. Below them was the smiling village amid its groves of stately trees, its farm-yards, granaries, orchards, and cattle-pens. At a little distance, at the side of the stream, was the rustic and unpretending Mosque, from the platform of whose primitive minaret the Muezzin was calling all true believers to the evening prayer. Here were shepherds driving their flocks from the mountain's side to their pens, to shelter them from the wild beasts. The kine were lowing on their way to their sheds, while the village maidens carolled gaily as they milked their cows. The birds were singing from every rock and spray; and all living nature seemed calm and contented-- The page roused Ina from her contemplation of the scene. "Lady," said he, "we ought ere this to have sought our homeward way: the path is steep and difficult, and the shades of evening will overtake us, ere we can reach the valley." "Fear not, Conrin. There are no dangers we need dread," returned Ina. "Old Kahija's scolding is the worst that can happen to us. We mountain maids are sure of foot, and fearless as you seem, on the edge of the steepest precipice. But, as you say, it is full time we should return home; for, as it is, we shall be missed from the anderoon, and old Kahija will think that we have fled for ever from her grave rule."