An hour brought them to the Mountain House, and to their joy they were shown to some of the most excellent rooms the hotel afforded. As Gertrude stood at the window of the chamber allotted to herself and Emily, and heard the loud murmurs of some of her fellow-travellers who were denied any tolerable accommodation, she could not but be astonished at Dr. Jeremy's unusual good fortune. Emily, being greatly fatigued with the toilsome journey, had supper brought to her own room, and Gertrude partaking of it with her, neither of them sought other society that night, but at an early hour went to rest. The last thing that Gertrude heard before falling asleep was the voice of Dr. Jeremy saying, as he passed their door, "Take care, Gerty, and be up in time to see the sun rise."
But she was not up in time, nor was the doctor; neither of them had calculated upon the sun being such an early riser; and though Gertrude sprang up almost before her eyes were open, a flood of daylight was pouring in at the window, and a scene met her gaze which banished regret at having overslept herself, since nothing, she thought, could be more glorious than that which now lay outspread before her.
Far out to the distant horizon nothing was to be seen but a sea of snowy clouds, which wholly overshadowed the lower earth and hid it from view. Vast, solid, and of the most perfect whiteness, they stretched on every side, forming, as they lay in thick masses, between which not a crevice was discernible, an unbroken curtain, dividing the heavens from the earth. The foliage of the oaks, the pines, and the maples, which had found root in this lofty region, was rich in varied hues, and tame and fearless birds of various note were singing in the branches. Gertrude gave one long look, then hastened to dress herself and go out upon the platform.
She was soon joined by Dr. and Mrs. Jeremy, the former full of life, and dragging forward his reluctant, sleepy partner, whose countenance proclaimed how unwillingly she had forgone her morning nap. The doctor rubbed his hands as they joined Gertrude. "Very fine, this, Gerty! A touch beyond anything I had calculated upon," Gertrude turned upon him her beaming eyes, but did not speak.
The doctor stepped to the edge of the flat rock upon which they stood, placed his hands beneath his coat tails, and indulged in a soliloquy, made up of short exclamations and interjectional phrases, expressive of his approbation.
"Why, this looks queer, doesn't it?" said Mrs. Jeremy, rubbing her eyes, and gazing about her; "but I daresay it would be just so an hour or two hence. I don't see what the doctor would make me get up so early for." Then she darted forward, exclaiming, "Dr. Jeremy, for mercy's sake, don't stand so near the edge of that precipice! Why, are you crazy, man? You frighten me to death! You'll fall over and break your neck!"
Finding the doctor deaf to her entreaties, Mrs. Jeremy grew so disturbed by his dangerous position that, looking most imploringly at Gertrude, she begged her to get the doctor away, for the poor man was so venturesome he would surely be killed.
"Suppose we explore that little path at the right of the house," suggested Gertrude; "it looks attractive."
"So it does," said Mrs. Jeremy; "beautiful little shady path. Come, doctor, Gerty and I are going to walk up here—come!"
The doctor looked in the direction in which she pointed.