rrupted him by laying her fair little hand on his arm with a
wistful, detaining gesture, which, though seemingly familiar, was yet
perfectly sweet and natural. The light touch thrilled his blood, and
sent it coursing through his veins at more than customary speed.

"Ah, then, you also will be foolish!" she said, with a naive protecting
air of superior dignity. "Do you not see my father is sorry? Have we all
kissed the cup for nothing, or was the wine wasted? Not a drop was
spilt; how then, if we are friends should we part in coldness? Father,
it is you to be ashamed,--not these gentleman, who are strangers to the
Altenfjord, and know nothing of Mr. Dyceworthy, or an other person
dwelling here. And when their vessel sails away again over the wide seas
to their own shores, how will you have them think of you? As one whose
heart was all kindness, and who helped to make their days pass
pleasantly? or as one who, in unreasonable anger, forgot the duties of
sworn hospitality?"

The _bonde_ listened to her full, sweet, reproachful voice as a tough
old lion might listen to the voice of its tamer, uncertain whether to
yield or spring. He wiped his heated brow and stared around him
shamefacedly. Finally, as though swallowing his pride with a gulp, he
drew a long breath, took a couple of determined strides forward, and
held out his hands, one to Errington and the other to Lorimer, by whom
they were warmly grasped.

"There, my lads," he said rapidly. "I'm sorry I spoke! Forgive and
forget! That is the worst of me--my blood is up in a minute, and old
though I am, I'm not old enough yet to be patient. And when I hear the
name of that sneak Dyceworthy--by the gates of Valhalla, I feel as if my
own house would not hold me! No, no; don't go yet! Nearly ten? Well, no
matter, the night is like the day here, you see--it doesn't matter when
one goes to bed. Come and sit in the porch awhile; I shall get cool out
there. Ah, Thelma, child! I see thee laughing at thy old father's
temper! Never mind, never mind; is it not for thy sake after all?"

And, holding Errington by the arm, he led the way into the fine old
porch, Lorimer following with rather a flushed face, for he, as he
passed out of the room, had managed to pick up and secrete the neglected
little bunch of daisies, before noticed as having fallen on the floor.
He put them quickly in his breast pocket with a curious sense of
satisfaction, though he had no intention of keeping them,