As the road led on up the narrowing pass, so the shadows deepened across the way of the travellers. Suddenly, however, the western wall of cliffs overhead, now no longer touched by the sun, dipped in an abrupt cleft; and there, very far above them, hung the sheer western face of Simonstone. Keen, precipitous, menacing, the mass of the mountain impended suddenly over the valley, and the apparition was almost terrifying in its unexpectedness. Another twenty yards, and the lower ranges would once more conceal it from view; here, for a swift moment, it revealed its over-lordship of the glen at its feet. Behind and over its brow high volumes of cloud stood stationary, and in the glow of evening the mountain and all the upper air was rich with a glamour of amethyst and hot violet. Gundred was dominated by this revelation, and her powers of expression rose to the emergency. ‘Oh, look, how pretty!--yes?’ she cried, indicating the obvious with a neat wave of her neat hand. Never had her gift for inadequacy burst upon her husband in such a terrifying flash. For a moment he could not speak. ‘Quite good,’ he answered at last, incapable of saying more to a woman who would have been incapable of understanding it. Isabel remained silent. Her eyes were fixed. Then she put out her hand in an eager gesture to stop the carriage. ‘Stop them, Gundred,’ she cried; ‘I want to get out. I am going up there into the glow and the glory. I am tired of this dull grey world. Kingston, come with me. Let us go and be gods on the heights.’ Gundred saw consent in her husband’s eyes. The carriage was stopped. ‘Well, don’t be late for dinner, darlings,’ she conditioned. ‘Remember, Aunt Minna will be arriving. Do you really think you will have time?’ ‘What does time matter!’ exclaimed Isabel rebelliously. ‘There is no such thing.’