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Dyceworthy been possessed of a field-glass, he might have been able to discern on her deck, the figure of a tall, fair girl, who, drawing her crimson hood over her rich hair, stood gazing with wistful, dreamy blue eyes, at the last receding shores of the Altenfjord eyes that smiled and yet were tearful. "Are you sorry, Thelma?" asked Errington gently, as he passed one arm tenderly round her.
Dyceworthy, whose rage was so great that it destroyed his appetite for twenty-four hours. But the general impression in the neighborhood, where superstition maintained so strong a hold on the primitive and prejudiced minds of the people, was that the reckless young Englishman would rue the day on which he wedded "the white witch of the Altenfjord."
And so I am going back to the Altenfjord, where I will stay till you want me again, if you ever do. My heart is yours and I shall always love you till I die, and though it seems to me just now better that we should part, to give you greater ease and pleasure, still you must always remember that I have no reproaches to make to you.
Lorimer, left alone, looked after it wistfully, with a heavy weight of unuttered love and sorrow at his heart, and as he at last turned away, those haunting words that he had heard under the pines at the Altenfjord recurred again and again to his memory the words uttered by the distraught Sigurd and how true they were, he thought! how desperately, cruelly true!
She seemed surprised at this, but made no remark. For some time she remained quiet, steadfastly gazing at Ulrika, and evidently trying to make out who she was. Presently she spoke again. "I remember everything now," she said, slowly. "I am at home, at the Altenfjord and I know how I came and also why I came." Here her lips quivered.
And yet I think I have been dreaming of the Altenfjord." "Ah! it must be cold there now," he answered lightly. "It's cold enough here, in all conscience. To-night there is a bitter east wind, and snow is falling." She heard this account of the weather with almost morbid interest. Her thoughts instantly betook themselves again to Norway, and dwelt there.
"Do you know he actually visited me on board here last night and begged me to go away from the Altenfjord altogether? He seemed afraid of me, as if he thought I meant to do him some harm." "How strange!" murmured Thelma. "Sigurd never speaks to visitors, he is too shy. I cannot understand his motive!" "Ah, my dear!" sighed her father.
"But is the world so full of lies?" asked Thelma timidly. Lorimer looked at her gravely. "I fear so, Miss Gueldmar! I think it has a tolerable harvest of them every year, a harvest, too, that never fails! But I say, Phil! Look at the sun shining! Let us go up on deck, we shall soon be getting back to the Altenfjord."
"Do you not see my father is sorry? Have we all kissed the cup for nothing, or was the wine wasted? Not a drop was spilt; how then, if we are friends should we part in coldness? Father, it is you to be ashamed, not these gentleman, who are strangers to the Altenfjord, and know nothing of Mr. Dyceworthy, or an other person dwelling here.
So that when the Eulalie got up her steam, weighed anchor, and swept gracefully away towards the coast of the adjacent islands, her owner was left, at his desire, to the seclusion of a quiet nook on the shore of the Altenfjord, where he succeeded in making a bold and vivid picture of the scene before him.
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