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Updated: June 22, 2025
How did he get here, I wonder?" Hearing his name, Duprez looked up from that portion of Mr. Dyceworthy's form in which he had been burrowing, and smiled radiantly. "Ah, cher Lorimer! Put your knee here, will you? So! that is well I will rest myself!"
And the hauteur of her face relaxed, and her smile that sudden sweet smile of hers, shone forth like a gleam of sunshine athwart a cloud. Mr. Dyceworthy's breath came and went with curious rapidity. His visage grew pale, and a clammy dew broke out upon his forehead.
To tame and break the evil spirit in the reputed witch; to convert her to the holy and edifying Lutheran faith; to save her soul for the Lord, and take her beautiful body for himself; these were Mr. Dyceworthy's laudable ambitions. There was no rival to oppose him, and he had plenty of time to mature his plans. So he had thought.
Now and then he ruffled his white hair impatiently with his hand, his daughter's adventure in Mr. Dyceworthy's house had vexed his proud spirit. He knew well enough that the minister's apology meant nothing that the whole village would be set talking against Thelma more, even than before, that there was no possibility of preventing scandal so long as Dyceworthy was there to start it.
"Love you!" she exclaimed, with a movement of irrepressible loathing. "You must be mad! I would rather die than marry you!" Mr. Dyceworthy's face grew livid and his little eyes sparkled vindictively, but he restrained his inward rage, and merely smiled, rubbing his hands softly one against the other. "Let us be calm!" he said soothingly. "Whatever we do, let us be calm!
And I am SO glad!" went on Britta, clasping her plump hands in ecstasy. "They are the grandest, handsomest Herren I have ever seen, and one can tell they think wonders of the Froeken nothing is too good for her!" Mr. Dyceworthy's face was the picture of dismay. This was a new turn to the course of events, and one, more over, that he had never once contemplated. Britta watched him amusedly.
It was neatly brushed and parted in the middle with mathematical precision, while from the back of his head it was brought forward in two projections, one on each side, like budding wings behind his ears. It was impossible for the most fastidious critic to find fault with the Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy's hands.
Dyceworthy's remarks concerning those who were "ejected with good reason from respectable society," might not, after all, have applied to the Gueldmar family. Indeed, it now seemed an absurd and improbable supposition. Therefore he replied cautiously "The Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy, I think, has some knowledge of you. Is he not a friend of yours?" These simple words had a most unexpected effect.
"Go on!" said Lorimer, throwing himself lazily into a deck arm-chair and lighting a cigar, while the others leaned against the yacht rails and followed his example. "Go on, Sandy this is fun! Dyceworthy's amours must be amusing. I suppose he's after that ugly wooden block of a woman we saw at his house who is so zealous for the 'true gospel'?"
Macfarlane, meditatively watching the girl from under his pale eyelashes, thought of Mr. Dyceworthy's matrimonial pretensions, with a humorous smile hovering on his thin lips. "Ma certes! the fellow has an unco' gude opeenion o' himself," he mused. "He might as well offer his hand in marriage to the Queen while he's aboot it, he wad hae just as muckle chance o' acceptance."
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