urned to rejoin their companions, who were strolling up and down
smoking.

"_Belle comme un ange!_" said Duprez briefly. "In short, I doubt if the
angels are so good-looking!"

"The auld pagan's a fine scholar," added Macfarlane meditatively. "He
corrected me in a bit o' Latin."

"Did he, indeed?" And Lorimer laughed indolently. "I suppose you think
better of him now, Sandy?"

Sandy made no reply, and as Errington persisted in turning the
conversation away from the merits or demerits of their recent guests,
they soon entered on other topics. But that night, before retiring to
rest, Lorimer laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, and said quietly,
with a keen look--

"Well, old man, have you made up your mind? Have I seen the future Lady
Bruce-Errington?"

Sir Philip smiled,--then, after a brief pause, answered steadily--

"Yes, George, you have! That is,--if I can win her!"

Lorimer laughed a little and sighed. "There's no doubt about that,
Phil." And eyeing Errington's fine figure and noble features musingly,
he repeated again thoughtfully--"No doubt about that, my boy!" Then
after a pause he said, somewhat abruptly, "Time to turn in--good night!"

"Good night, old fellow!" And Errington wrung his hand warmly, and left
him to repose.

But Lorimer had rather a bad night,--he tossed and tumbled a good deal,
and had dreams,--unusual visitors with him,--and once or twice he
muttered in his sleep,--"No doubt about it--not the least in the
world--and if there were--"

But the conclusion of this sentence was inaudible.

CHAPTER XI.

"Tu vas faire un beau reve,
Et t'enivrer d'un plaisir dangereux.
Sur ton chemin l'etoile qui se leve
Longtemps encore eblouira les yeux!"
DE MUSSET.

A fortnight passed. The first excursion in the _Eulalie_ had been
followed by others of a similar kind, and Errington's acquaintance with
the Gueldmars was fast ripening into a pleasant intimacy. It had grown
customary for the young men to spend that part of the day which, in
spite of persistent sunshine, they still called evening, in the
comfortable, quaint parlor of the old farmhouse,--looking at the view
through the rose-wreathed windows,--listening to the fantastic legends
of Norway as told by Olaf Gueldmar,--or watching Thelma's picturesque
figure, as she sat pensively apart in her shadowed corner spinning. They
had fraternized with Sigurd too--th