f creatures. _You_ don't know anything about
them, Miss Gueldmar--be thankful! Now, Phil, how long is this vessel of
yours going to linger here?"

Thus reminded, Errington called to the pilot, and in a few minutes the
_Eulalie_ resumed her usual speed, and bore swiftly on towards Soroe.
This island, dreary and dark in the distance, grew somewhat more
inviting in aspect on a nearer approach. Now and then a shaft of
sunlight fell on some glittering point of felspar or green patch of
verdure.--and Valdemar Svensen stated that he knew of a sandy creek
where, if the party chose, they could land and see a small cave of
exquisite beauty, literally hung all over with stalactites.

"I never heard of this cave," said Gueldmar, fixing a keen eye on the
pilot. "Art thou a traveller's guide to all such places in Norway?"

Somewhat to Errington's surprise, Svensen changed color and appeared
confused; moreover, he removed his red cap altogether when he answered
the _bonde_, to whom he spoke deferentially in rapid Norwegian. The old
man laughed as he listened, and seemed satisfied; then, turning away, he
linked his arm through Philip's, and said,

"You must pardon him, my lad, that he spoke in your presence a tongue
unfamiliar to you. No offense was meant. He is of my creed, but fears to
make it known, lest he should lose all employment--which is likely
enough, seeing that so many of the people are fanatics. Moreover, he is
bound to me by an oath,--which in olden days would have made him my
serf,--but which leaves him free enough just now,--with one exception."

"And that exception?" asked Errington with some interest.

"Is, that should I ever demand a certain service at his hands, he dare
not refuse it. Odd, isn't it? or so it seems to you," and Gueldmar
pressed the young man's arm lightly and kindly; "but our Norse oaths,
are taken with great solemnity, and are as binding as the obligation of
death itself. However, I have not commanded Valdemar's obedience yet,
nor do I think I am likely to do so for some time. He is a fine,
faithful fellow,--though too much given to dreams."

A gay chorus of laughter here broke from the little group seated on
deck, of which Thelma was the centre,--and Gueldmar stopped in his walk,
with an attentive smile on his open, ruddy countenance.

"'Tis good for the heart to hear the merriment of young folks," he said.
"Think you not my girl's laugh is like the ripple of a lark's song? just
so clear an