the heart, and
everything which, under the influence of it, people do and undertake,
has a tendency toward the illimitable. The friends could not remain any
more shut up at home; their walks extended themselves further and
further. Edward would hurry on before with Ottilie, to choose the path
or pioneer the way; and the Captain and Charlotte would follow quietly
on the track of their more hasty precursors, talking on some grave
subject, or delighting themselves with some spot they had newly
discovered, or some unexpected natural beauty.

One day their walk led them down from the gate at the right wing of the
castle, in the direction of the hotel, and thence over the bridge toward
the ponds, along the sides of which they proceeded as far as it was
generally thought possible to follow the water; thickly wooded hills
sloped directly up from the edge, and beyond these a wall of steep
rocks, making further progress difficult, if not impossible. But Edward,
whose hunting experience had made him thoroughly familiar with the spot,
pushed forward along an overgrown path with Ottilie, knowing well that
the old mill could not be far off, which was somewhere in the middle of
the rocks there. The path was so little frequented, that they soon lost
it; and for a short time they were wandering among mossy stones and
thickets; it was not for long, however, the noise of the water-wheel
speedily telling them that the place which they were looking for was
close at hand. Stepping forward on a point of rock, they saw the strange
old, dark, wooden building in the hollow before them, quite shadowed
over with precipitous crags and huge trees. They determined directly to
climb down amidst the moss and the blocks of stone. Edward led the way;
and when he looked back and saw Ottilie following, stepping lightly,
without fear or nervousness, from stone to stone, so beautifully
balancing herself, he fancied he was looking at some celestial creature
floating above him; while if, as she often did, she caught the hand
which in some difficult spot he would offer her, or if she supported
herself on his shoulder, then he was left in no doubt that it was a very
exquisite human creature who touched him. He almost wished that she
might slip or stumble, that he might catch her in his arms and press
her to his heart. This, however, he would under no circumstances have
done, for more than one reason. He was afraid to wound her, and he was
afraid to do her some b