"'Years ago,' he said, 'a young Englishman and his wife were travelling for scientific purposes; measuring heights, and sounding depths. They were always accompanied by guides; but now, charmed by the untold splendor, and urged by deep emotion, they climbed higher and higher, regardless of danger. Twice had the guide called out to them that the very beauty of the day, the sun obscured but not darkened, the softened air, were all favorable to a snowslide or avalanche. "'Full of life and vivacity, the young wife went on from one point to another, higher and higher; her lithe figure brought out against the sky, as occasionally she plunged her iron-pointed staff deep into the snow, and turned to admire the vast panorama at her feet. Her husband was making the ascent at a slower pace, looking up to admire the boldness of the little woman, and then playfully scolding her as she stood poised in mid-air so far above him. Aware of her danger, and fearing to startle her, the guide had ascended, and now stood with the husband on a little ledge quite underneath the cliff on which stood the fearless bride. "'A moment--there was a low, murmuring sound, as when the autumn leaves are swept by the evening breeze. The guide heard it, and his cheek paled. At the same time a voice was heard above. "'"What is that, Walter, it seems as though the mountain was moving?" "'"For heaven's sake, jump! we will catch you," shouted the guide. "'"Quick, Gertrude!" A gleam of white shot over them, and a piercing shriek mingled with one long resounding crash, and the glittering crystal was plunged into the valley below, leaving nothing but bare jagged rocks and stunted shrubs, where all was smooth and white but a moment before. Months after, the bones of the fair English girl were buried here,' continued friar Le-Bon. "'And her husband?' I asked. "'They brought him here, and it was terrible to see his agony. When he grew stronger, we sent a novice with him to England; it would not do to trust him by himself.' "'You do not mean to say that his reason was gone?' I asked. "'He was never rational after that morning,' replied the friar; 'muttering and moaning, and repeating the name of Gertrude constantly. Carl left him with his friends, and we have never heard if he recovered.' "'And the lady?' asked pastor Ortler. "'On calm, still days, and just before an avalanche,' said the kind friar, 'her image is always seen standing upon the loftiest height, beckoning with her white taper fingers to some one below.'