the bare idea was almost an injury. "Christian Frederick is a wonderful
man," thought Richard; "and what a man of business he is!"

One day Consul Garman said to his brother, "Shall we drive out to
Bratvold, and have a look at the new lighthouse?"

Richard was only too glad to go. From his earliest days he had loved the
lonely coast, with its long stretches of dark heather and sand, and the
vast open sea; the lighthouse also interested him greatly.

When the brothers got into the carriage again to drive back to the town,
the _attache_ said, "Do you know, Christian Frederick, I can't imagine a
position more suitable to such a wreck as myself than that of
lighthouse-keeper out here."

"There is no reason you should not have it," answered his brother.

"Nonsense! How could it be managed?" answered Richard, as he knocked the
ashes off his cigar.

"Now listen, Richard," replied the Consul, quickly. "If there is a thing
I must find fault with you for, it is your want of self-reliance. Don't
you suppose that, with your gifts and attainments, you could get a far
higher post if you only chose to apply for it?"

"No; but, Christian Frederick--" exclaimed the _attache_, regarding his
brother with astonishment.

"It's perfectly true," replied the Consul. "If you want the post, they
must give it to you; and if there should be any difficulty, I feel
pretty certain that a word from us to the authorities would soon settle
it."

The matter was thus concluded, and Richard Garman was appointed
lighthouse-keeper at Bratvold, either because of his gifts and
attainments or by reason of a timely word to the authorities. The very
sameness of his existence did the old cavalier good; the few duties he
had, he performed with the greatest diligence and exactitude.

He passed most of his spare time in smoking cigarettes, and looking out
to sea through the large telescope, which was mounted on a stand, and
which he had got as a present from Christian Frederick. He was truly
weary, and he could not but wonder how he had so long kept his taste for
the irregular life he had led in foreign lands. There was one thing that
even more excited his wonder, and that was how well he got on with his
income. To live on a hundred a year seemed to him nothing less than a
work of art, and yet he managed it. It must be acknowledged that he had
a small private income, but his brother always told him it was as good
as nothing; how much it was, and from what