The highest part of the Simplon Pass was marked by a mile-stone indicating the summit, immediately below which was the ancient hospital to the right, and, on the left, the foundation works for the new hospital of the convent of St. Bernard. The whole distance over the pass from Glis to Simplon was a mere eight leagues and was, thanks to Buonaparte, now easily traversed in two days by the largest and heaviest of waggons and coaches. The Simplon itself proved to be a flat plain of barren rock, relieved only by the perpetual ice that covered the higher mountains farther on, and the peak of Rosboden. In this place, the new monastery was being constructed. The new hospital was to be large, and rents had been assigned from some Italian lands for the purpose of providing for its maintenance.

“I praise the love of God that inspires these men to live in such a desert,” said Mr. Darcy, “and to willingly remain in this inimical climate during the unrelieved months of darkest, dreary winter. Even now, in the height of summer, we are surrounded by seas of ice and buffetted by strong winds—and uncomfortably cold!”

“Yes,” agreed Elizabeth, “and to do so knowing that, whilst everything in their sight is buried in snow, day after day, with only the violent winds to shift the view, for many months of the year, the valley below is warm and alive with trees and flowers.”

“Praise of such self-deprivation and piousness seems almost a profanity,” continued Darcy. “So meagre are our thanks to such men who devote their lives to the preservation and consolation of the miserable traveller who loses his way. I hope this new building relieves their privations to a significant degree”; Georgiana added the great dogs of St. Bernard to this panegyric, and they returned to their carriage after taking tea at the convent, but not before Mr. Darcy had pressed a generous note into the hands of the monk who bade them farewell.