It was early next morning after the long journey north, that the white
pinnacle of Mount Shasta appeared floating in the sky above dark pines,
and the rushing stream of the Sacramento, fed by eternal snows. But Carmen
hardly glanced out of her stateroom window at the hovering white glory,
though her maid mentioned that Shasta was in sight. Mrs. Harland and
Falconer were both coming to meet her at the Springs station, and would
motor her to Rushing River Camp by the fifty-mile road over the mountains.
Carmen hoped that Nick might be with them, though nothing had been said
about him in the telegram they had sent. In any case, her one care was to
be beautiful after the night journey. She took no interest in mountains
and rivers. Her whole soul was concentrated upon the freshness of her
complexion and the angle of the mauve hat on her dark waved hair. Never a
good sleeper, she had been too feverish at the prospect of seeing Nick to
do more than doze off for a few minutes in her berth; consequently, there
were annoying brown shadows under her eyes, and her cheeks looked a little
sallow; but Mariette was an accomplished maid, who had been with Carmen
ever since the old theatrical days, and when Mrs. Gaylor was ready to
leave her stateroom at Shasta Springs station she looked as bright-eyed
and rosy as if she had slept without dreaming.
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