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Updated: July 21, 2025
"Why do you speak of others? No others are interested in what I do? Why should they be? Why should you be? There is no need!" Mr. Dyceworthy grew slightly excited. He felt like a runner nearing the winning-post. "Oh, you wrong yourself, my dear Froeken," he murmured softly, with a sickly attempt at tenderness in his tone. "You really wrong yourself!
"You are generally frank and open, but to-day I find you just a little, well! what shall I say secretive! Yes, we will call it secretive! Oh, fie!" and Mr. Dyceworthy laughed a gentle little laugh; "you must not pretend ignorance of what I mean! All the neighborhood is talking of you and the gentleman you are so often seen with.
If the snuffling Dyceworthy and I competed at a spelling examination, I'm pretty sure 'tis I would have the prize! But, as I said, you know us, and if our ways are likely to offend you, then let us part good friends before the swords are fairly drawn." "No sword will be drawn on my side, I assure you, sir," said Errington, advancing and laying one hand on the bonde's shoulder.
Dyceworthy, besides being a drunkard, is a most consummate liar. It so happens that the Gueldmars are the very people I have just visited, highly superior in every way to anybody we have yet met in Norway. In fact, Mr. and Miss Gueldmar will come on board to-morrow.
"I bet you that sleek Dyceworthy fellow meant the old bonde and his daughter, when he spoke of persons who were 'ejected' from the social circles of Bosekop. Fancy Bosekop society presuming to be particular what an absurd idea!" "My good fellow, don't pretend to be so deplorably ignorant!
"Rather a stern Phyllis, that waiting-maid of yours," he remarked, watching his host, who was carefully drawing the cork from one of the bottles of wine. Mr. Dyceworthy smiled. "Oh, no, no! not stern at all," he answered sweetly. "On the contrary, most affable and kind-hearted.
The distant, cool sparkle of the waters of the Fjord, the refreshing breeze, the perfume of the flowers, and the satisfied impression left on his mind by recent tea and toast all these things combined had a soothing effect on Mr. Dyceworthy, and with a sigh of absolute comfort he settled his large person in a deep easy chair and composed himself for pious meditation.
Gueldmar is a character. He follows the faith of Odin, and not even Dyceworthy can convert him to Christianity." Macfarlane stared with a sort of stupefied solemnity. "Mon!" he exclaimed, "ye never mean to say there's an actual puir human creature that in this blessed, enlightened nineteenth century of ours, is so far misguidit as to worship the fearfu' gods o' the Scandinavian meethology?"
I would rather be the veriest savage that ever knelt in untutored worship to the great forces of Nature, than such a thing as you a slinking, unclean animal, crawling coward-like between earth and sky, and daring to call itself a Christian! Faugh! Were I the Christ, I should sicken at sight of you!" Dyceworthy made no reply, but his little eyes glittered evilly.
Ulrika, without answering, began to pack the tea-things together in a methodical way, without clattering so much as a plate or spoon, and, piling them compactly on a tray, was about to leave the room, when Mr. Dyceworthy called to her, "Ulrika!" "Sir?" "Did you ever see a thing like this before?" and he held up the crucifix to her gaze.
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