convert her to the holy and edifying Lutheran faith; to save her soul
for the Lord, and take her beautiful body for himself; these were Mr.
Dyceworthy's laudable ambitions. There was no rival to oppose him, and
he had plenty of time to mature his plans. So he had thought. He had not
bargained for the appearance of Sir Philip Bruce Errington on the
scene,--a man, young, handsome, and well-bred, with vast wealth to back
up his pretensions, should he make any.

"How did he find her out?" thought the Reverend Charles, as he dolefully
pulled his craft along. "And that brutal pagan Gueldmar, too, who
pretends he cannot endure strangers!"

And as he meditated, a flush of righteous indignation crimsoned his
flabby features.

"Let her take care," he half muttered, with a smile that was not
pleasant; "let her take care! There are more ways than one to bring down
her pride! Sir Philip Errington must be too rich and popular in his own
country to think of wishing to marry a girl who is only a farmer's
daughter after all. He may trifle with her; yes! . . . and he will help
me by so doing. The more mud on her name, the better for me; the more
disgrace, the more need of rescue, and the more grateful she will have
to be. Just a word to Ulrika,--and the scandal will spread. Patience,
patience!"

And somewhat cheered by his own reflections, though still wearing an air
of offended dignity, he rowed on, glancing up every now and then to see
if the _Eulalie_ had returned, but her place was still empty.

Meanwhile, as he thought and planned, other thoughts and plans were
being discussed at a meeting which was held in a little ruined stone
hut, situated behind some trees on a dreary hill just outside Bosekop.
It was a miserable place, barren of foliage,--the ground was dry and
yellow, and the hut itself looked as if it had been struck by lightning.
The friends, whose taste had led them to select this dilapidated
dwelling as a place of conference, were two in number, both women,--one
of them no other than the minister's servant, the drear-faced Ulrika.
She was crouched on the earth-floor in an attitude of utter abasement,
at the feet of her companion,--an aged dame of tall and imposing
appearance, who, standing erect, looked down upon her with an air of
mingled contempt and malevolence. The hut was rather dark, for the roof
was not sufficiently destroyed to have the advantage of being open to
the sky. The sunlight fell through holes of dif