in awe.

It was indeed an awful pass! a road roughly hewn through the bottom of a
deep, narrow, tortuous cleft in the mountains where, at some remote
period, by some tremendous convulsions of nature, the solid rocks had
been rent apart, leaving the ragged edges of the wound hanging at a
dizzy height between heaven and earth! The dark iron-gray precipices
that towered on each side were clothed in every cleft, from base to
summit, with clumps of dark stunted evergreens as sombre as themselves.
So tortuous, besides, was the pass, that the travellers could see but a
few yards before them at any time. There was but one cheering sight in
earth or sky, and that was the young crescent moon straight before them
in the west, and shining down in tender light upon the rudest precipice
of all.

"It does remind one of Dante's descriptions of the 'Entrance into the
Infernal Regions,' does it not?" inquired Lyon Berners.

"All except the little moon! Without that, its gloom would be perfectly
horrible! and it is horrible enough now," answered Rosa with a shudder.

"But I love it! Even its gloom and horror have a weird fascination for
me. It is my abode. I only seem to live my own life in my own Black
Valley," said Sybil, in a low, deep voice that thrilled with emotion.

They were suddenly silenced, for they were at the sharpest, steepest,
most difficult and dangerous turn in that most dangerous pass; and to go
down with any chance of safety required the utmost care and skill on the
part of the coachman, whose anxiety was shared by all within the coach.
Each passenger clung for support to what was nearest at hand, and might
reasonably have expected every instant to be dashed to pieces on the
rocks by the coach pitching over the horses' heads, as it tossed and
tumbled and thundered down the falling road, more like a descending
avalanche than a well-conducted four-wheeled vehicle.

Our travellers only let go their holdings and loosed their tongues again
at the foot of the precipice.

"That was--that was--Oh, there is no word to express what it was. It was
more than terrible! more than awful! And it is just a miracle that we
have escaped with our lives!" gasped Rosa Blondelle, aghast with horror.

"There has never yet been an accident on this road," observed Lyon
Berners, soothingly.

"Then there is a miracle performed every time a vehicle passes down it,"
replied Rosa, with a shudder.

"But look now, there is a very fine scene