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Updated: June 15, 2025
The way to Rosendal was over the sandy road for two English miles, when the entrance gate was reached, leading up an avenue of lime trees that had been pollarded. The storms would certainly have pollarded them in a more irregular manner than the hand of man. The house was a much larger house than Pastor Lindal's parsonage, but after the same fashion.
At last a letter came to John Hardy, from Vandstrup Præstegaard. "Herr Hardy, "My father desires me to say that they are proceeding with the work at Rosendal, and that there is nothing specially to report at present, as there is nothing being done contrary to your wishes, and there is no room for complaint on what is being done.
Whilst they were at lunch, the Rosendal steam yacht was passing Samsø. "This island," said John Hardy, "appears from the chart to be a sand bank washed up by the sea." "So is all Denmark," said Pastor Lindal. "The legends and traditions belonging to Samsø, however, are not as old as those of Jutland, and it would therefore appear not to have been inhabited at so early a period.
"If you come here again, you will go to Rosendal?" said the Pastor. "Yes," replied Hardy.
When Hardy appeared at the breakfast table, he said, "Rosendal is sold to Prokuratør Steindal of Copenhagen, and it is extra-ordinary that I have received a letter from him to say that I and my family have leave to visit Rosendal when we wish to do so, and that my two sons, Karl and Axel, have leave to catch all the pike in Rosendal lake.
"He has become a great favourite of mine, and you will be glad to hear he is well spoken of in London." Robert Garth drove one of the servants to Rosendal, and had orders to fetch John Hardy in the evening, at the parsonage. The Pastor had time for a word with Hardy, as his mother went to change her travelling dress.
He had seen the same conduct in young girls in France, and attributed it to the same reason, and said nothing more. The Pastor, when his pipe had been, as usual, filled by Helga after dinner, and at the first vigorous puffs, addressed Hardy. "Let me hear about Rosendal, Herr Hardy.
"It is better so than we should trespass on a stranger's kindness," said the Pastor. So Hardy walked with the Pastor and his daughter through the beechwoods and by the lake. "I think now in the summer-time, with the beech trees in full leaf, and the reeds by the lake, and the grass in the meadows in full growth, that Rosendal is nearly at its best," said Frøken Helga.
"We will come over and see you at Rosendal to-morrow, Macdonald, and go through the plans on the spot," said Hardy. And after Macdonald had experienced the hospitality of the Pastor, he left. "He is a clever man," said the Pastor, referring to Macdonald.
"Herr Hardy would say, father, that we Danes want the refinement of the English," said Frøken Helga, who did not like the correct criticism of a place she loved so well. "When I asked you the name of the owner of Rosendal," said Hardy, looking at her, "the answer I received from you might have led my thoughts in that direction, Frøken Helga." "I gave no answer!" retorted Helga.
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