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Updated: May 13, 2025
Dyceworthy could catch a glimpse through the trees of the principal thoroughfare of Bosekop a small, primitive street enough, of little low houses, which, though unpretending from without, were roomy and comfortable within.
I might have guessed that only a couple of idle boys like yourselves, knowing no better, would have pushed their way to a spot that all worthy dwellers in Bosekop, and all true followers of the Lutheran devilry, avoid as though the plague were settled in it."
Moreover, to the astonishment of the Bosekop folk, the sailing-brig known as the Valkyrie, belonging to Olaf Gueldmar, which had been hauled up high and dry on the shore for many months, was suddenly seen afloat on the Fjord, and Valdemar Svensen, Errington's pilot, appeared to be busily engaged upon her decks, putting everything in ship-shape order.
Meanwhile, Olaf Gueldmar, with Errington and the others, had just landed at Bosekop after a heavy pull across the Fjord, and they made straight for Mr. Dyceworthy's house, the bonde working himself up as he walked into a positive volcano of wrath.
"Thou art violently carried away from grace; there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of a fat old man, a tun of man is thy companion." The Reverend Charles Dyceworthy sat alone in the small dining-room of his house at Bosekop, finishing a late tea, and disposing of round after round of hot buttered toast with that suave alacrity he always displayed in the consumption of succulent eatables.
"Just fancy!" she said to herself "some one may hate the Froeken even in London just as they hated her in Bosekop, because she is so unlike everybody else. I shall keep my eyes open, and I shall soon find out any wickedness against her! My beautiful, dear darling! I believe the world is a cruel place after all, but she shan't be made unhappy in it, if I can help it!"
There she sleeps right royally, and now is your mind relieved, my lad? For the reports of the Bosekop folk must certainly have awakened some suspicions in your mind?" "Your story has interested me deeply, sir," said Errington; "but I assure you I never had any suspicions of you at all. I always disregard gossip it is generally scandalous, and seldom true.
Lorimer took a covert glance backward over his shoulder towards the lattice window, and saw that the white figure at the spinning-wheel had disappeared. "My dear Mr. Gueldmar," he then said with polite fervor, "I assure you I think the Bosekop folk by no means deserve to sharpen your sword on the grindstone, or to enjoy the remains of your dinner! Myself, I despise them!
At Bosekop we lost Pastor Hvoslef, and took on board the chief of the mission, the Catholic Bishop of the Arctic Zone for I believe his diocese includes Greenland, Spitzbergen, and Polar America.
"Across there," he said, pointing toward the direction of Bosekop. "There is a stream under the trees that laughs to itself all day you know it, mistress? And the poppies are in the field as you go and by the banks there are the heart's-ease flowers we cannot have too many of them! Shall we go?"
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