"I can almost be glad, Alessandro!" she cried, inspired by the
glorious scene. "I dreamed not it was like this!"
It was a wondrous valley. The mountain seemed to have been cleft
to make it. It lay near midway to the top, and ran transversely on
the mountain's side, its western or southwestern end being many
feet lower than the eastern. Both the upper and lower ends were
closed by piles of rocks and tangled fallen trees; the rocky summit
of the mountain itself made the southern wall; the northern was a
spur, or ridge, nearly vertical, and covered thick with pine-trees. A
man might roam years on the mountain and not find this cleft. At
the upper end gushed out a crystal spring, which trickled rather
than ran, in a bed of marshy green, the entire length of the valley,
disappeared in the rocks at the lower end, and came out no more;
many times Alessandro had searched for it lower down, but could
find no trace of it. During the summer, when he was hunting with
Jeff, he had several times climbed the wall and descended it on the
inner side, to see if the rivulet still ran; and, to his joy, had found it
the same in July as in January.
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