When the warm weather came, the schoolmaster and his mother went away, and we never saw them afterwards. When the June sun was glowing, and the soft winds wafted the fragrant breath of flowers up through the mountain gorges, Mr. Jeffries’ house was once more filled with visitors; and I was not unfrequently called upon to show some gentleman or lady the best views, as they were called, until I became familiar with the beauties and glories of nature, and felt their genial influence thrilling me with a new and indefinite pleasure.
Sometimes I was brought face to face with the storm in the mountain passes, while thunder and lightning shook and vibrated through them, rolling slowly down the sides of the mountain and echoing along the valley in terrific grandeur.
One day in the heat of summer a gentleman came up, saying to Mr. Jeffries that it was his intention to remain for a week; that he had come out of the city expressly for mountain air and scenery, and that he wished to make the best use of his time. His name was Kirby, and he had not been there a day before I felt that he was another Charles Brisbane—the same views, the same hopes, the same manner characterized them; and after my work was done in the morning, it was my privilege to join him in his rambles, provided I returned in time to have every thing in readiness for the night. What made this arrangement still pleasanter, Jennie was permitted to go with us whenever it was not too far, while Mr. Kirby would tell us stories of mountains over the sea.
I remember, one evening, we were flinging our lines in a little brook that ran gurgling along through the green grass like a silver serpent, when Mr. Kirby told us of the Rosenlani glacier in such glowing language, that we seemed to see distinctly the pale sunshine dancing on its sharp peaks of frosted silver, its blue ice caverns, its fringe of firs, with hanging ledges of short crisp grass, and giant masses of grey rock, and the sudden shower of snow from falling avalanches. Then he unrolled a map, and pointed out the jagged pyramid of the Wetterhorn, and told us of the people that lived there; and by the time we returned, in season to have our trout for supper, we had learned more of the geography of Switzerland than we should have learned from poring over books for a long time.
“To-morrow,” said Mr. Kirby, “we must go up to the highest point of the mountain. I am afraid my little Jennie must stay at home.”
“Why so, Mr. Kirby?” and Jennie pressed to his side; “I like to be with you and Marston.”
“I should like to have you go, but I am afraid it would make you sick; it will be a hard walk for us. If I give you a nice story to read, it will interest you quite as much; and when we come back, you shall tell us all about it. Besides, Miss Grimshaw is to teach you how to hem that new handkerchief. You will be contented to stay now, wont you?”
“If you think it best,” and the long brown lashes drooped over the blue eyes.
The next morning I was up earlier than usual; but not before Jennie, who insisted on sharing my labor, feeding the pigs, and then scattering corn to the poultry, and throwing wheat to the few pigeons that circled about the premises.
“I do want to go with you,” she said as she kissed me good-by; but Mr. Kirby was there with the neatly bound book he had promised, and the tears were soon dried, Jennie looking the last look as she ran up to her attic to lay aside her treasure, till the moment when her work should be done and Mrs. Jeffries should give her permission to do what she pleased.