seated nude

`Ellen, how long will it be before I can walk to the top of those hills? I wonder what lies on the other side--is it the sea?'
`No, Miss Cathy,' I would answer; `it is hills again, just like these.'
`And what are those golden rocks like when you stand under them?' she once asked.
The abrupt descent of Penistone Crags particularly attracted her notice; especially when the setting sun shone on it and the topmost heights, and the whole extent of landscape besides lay in shadow. I explained that they were bare masses of stone, with hardly enough earth in their clefts to nourish a stunted tree.
`And why are they bright so long after it is evening here?' she pursued.
`Because they are a great deal higher up than we are,' replied I; `you could not climb them, they are too high and steep. In winter the frost is always there before it comes to us; and deep into summer I have found snow under that black hollow on the north-east side!'
`Oh, you have been on them!' she cried gleefully. `Then I can go, too, when I am a woman. Has papa been, Ellen?'
`Papa would tell you, miss,' I answered hastily, `that they are not worth the trouble of visiting. The moors, where you ramble with him, are much nicer; and Thrushcross Park is the finest place in the world.'
`But I know the park, and I don't know those,' she murmured to herself. `And I should delight to look round me from the brow of that tallest point: my little pony Minny shall take me some time.'