“They’re more than gorgeous,” I answered reverently, then silently prayed to their rugged magnificence that, to the end, the power the sight of them gave me might never wane. Some premonition told me in that moment my prayer would be heeded. I could not suspect what those mountains would do in the shaping of my life, but I was sure they would shape it. And so they did. I was never again to be away from their influence, and only for brief periods away from their sight. I loved them instinctively that day—and I never lost that love—strange though it may seem for a girl brought up beside the water. “They are our future” I added to Harvey, my voice trembling with excitement. “Yes!” My future, yes—but not our future. Still, I could not know that, then, nor even guess it. But deep in my bones, I felt their power. Denver in those days was a turbulent, thriving community, the trading and outfitting center of all the dramatic mining activities of the state. It had grown into a town of over thirty thousand population. Pioneers struck it rich in the hills, but they brought their wealth to Denver to spend. And spend it they did! I had never been in a hotel like the American House. Every sort of cosmopolitan figure dotted its elegant lobby, carpeted in red. These glamorous people smiled at me and invited my husband into the bar. Five years before, the Grand Duke Alexis had been entertained in the sumptuous dining-room of the hotel, transformed for the occasion into a ballroom, and the hosts were all the great names of Colorado. The belles of Central City (where I was now bound) had come down from the mountains by stagecoach for the event. This was high adventure, colorful pageantry—and I was a part of it. This was a new world, where European royalty and English nobility moved perfectly naturally. Those dreams I had dreamed on the shores of Lake Winnebago, at home in Oshkosh, were actually coming true. Meanwhile, during our fortnight’s honeymoon, Harvey was studying miners’ tools and equipment in the stores of Larimer Street and getting ready to meet his father in Blackhawk for the mile’s drive to Central City. When we started for Colorado’s great gold camps, I was tremendously stirred and elated. I had been listening avidly to the many tales of untold fortunes already made from the district’s famous “blossom rock.” I was sure that ours was the next treasure tale that would come out of Central City to be told over the massive bars of Larimer Street—the story of how clever Harvey Doe had presented his beautiful bride with a gold mine that would make her a millionaire only a few months after they were married!