ye a direct contradeection to your
theory. Scotland lies to the north, and ye'll not find a grander harvest
o' sinfu' souls anywhere between this an' the day o' judgment. I'm a
Scotchman, an' I'm just proud o' my country--I'd back its men against a'
the human race,--but I wadna say much for the stabeelity o' its women. I
wad just tak to my heels and run if I saw a real, thumpin', red-cheeked,
big-boned Scotch lassie makin' up to me. There's nae bashfulness in they
sort, and nae safety."

"I will go to Scotland!" said Duprez enthusiastically. "I feel that
those--what do you call them, _lassies_?--will charm, me!"

"Scotland I never saw," said Gueldmar. "From all I have heard, it seems
to me 'twould be too much like Norway. After one's eyes have rested long
on these dark mountains and glaciers, one likes now and then to see a
fertile sunshiny stretch of country such as France, or the plains of
Lombardy. Of course there may be exceptions, but I tell you climatic
influences have a great deal to do with the state of mind and morals.
Now, take the example of that miserable old Lovisa Elsland. She is the
victim of religious mania--and religious mania, together with
superstition of the most foolish kind, is common in Norway. It happens
often during the long winters; the people have not sufficient to occupy
their minds; no clergyman--not even Dyceworthy--can satisfy the height
of their fanaticism. They preach and pray and shriek and groan in their
huts; some swear that they have the spirit of prophecy,--others that
they are possessed of devils,--others imagine witchcraft, like
Lovisa--and altogether there is such a howling on the name of Christ,
that I am glad to be out of it,--for 'tis a sight to awaken the laughter
and contempt of a pagan such as I am!"

Thelma listened with a slight shadow of pain on her features.

"Father is not a pagan," she declared, turning to Lorimer. "How can one
be pagan if one believes that there is good in everything,--and that
nothing happens except for the best?"

"It sounds to me more Christian than pagan," averred Lorimer, with a
smile. "But it's no use appealing to _me_ on such matters, Miss Gueldmar.
I am an advocate of the Law of Nothing. I remember a worthy philosopher
who,--when he was in his cups,--earnestly assured me it was all
right--'everything was nothing, and nothing was everything.' 'You are
sure that is so?' I would say to him. 'My dear young friend--_hic_--I am
positive! I ha