oung people, with ever-increasing
glee, brought all sorts of strange parcels out of the carriages. Mrs.
Hartvig threw her cloak upon a chair and set about arranging things as
best she could. But the young people, always with Mr. Lintzow at their
head, seemed determined to make as much confusion as possible. Even the
Pastor was infected by their merriment, and to Rebecca's unspeakable
astonishment she saw her own father, in complicity with Mr. Lintzow,
biding a big paper parcel under Mrs. Hartvig's cloak.

At last the racket became too much for the old lady. "My dear Miss
Rebecca," she exclaimed, "have you not any show-place to exhibit in
the neighborhood--the farther off the better--so that I might get these
crazy beings off my hands for a little while?"

"There's a lovely view from the King's Knoll; and then there's the beach
and the sea."

"Yes, let's go down to the sea!" cried Max Lintzow.

"That's just what I want," said the old lady. "If you can relieve me of
_him_ I shall be all right, for he is the worst of them all."

"If Miss Rebecca will lead the way, I will follow wherever she pleases,"
said the young man, with a bow.

Rebecca blushed. Nothing of that sort had ever been said to her before.
The handsome young man made her a low bow, and his words had such a ring
of sincerity. But there was no time to dwell upon this impression; the
whole merry troop were soon out of the house, through the garden, and,
with Rebecca and Lintzow at their head, making their way up to the
little height which was called the King's Knoll.

Many years ago a number of antiquities had been dug up on the top of the
Knoll, and one of the Pastor's predecessors in the parish had planted
some hardy trees upon the slopes. With the exception of a rowan-tree,
and a walnut-avenue in the Parsonage garden, these were the only trees
to be found for miles round on the windy slopes facing the open sea.
In spite of storms and sand-drifts, they had, in the course of time,
reached something like the height of a man, and, turning their bare and
gnarled stems to the north wind, like a bent back, they stretched
forth their long, yearning arms towards the south. Rebecca's mother had
planted some violets among them.

"Oh, how fortunate!" cried the eldest Miss Hartvig; "here are violets!
Oh, Mr. Lintzow, do pick me a bouquet of them for this evening!"

The young man, who had been exerting himself to hit upon the right tone
in which to converse with