with the _bonde_, in private conversation for more than an hour. At
the expiration of that time, Thelma was called, and taken into their
confidence. The result of their mysterious discussion was not
immediately evident,--though for the next few days, the farm-house lost
its former tranquility and became a scene of bustle and excitement.
Moreover, to the astonishment of the Bosekop folk, the sailing-brig
known as the _Valkyrie_, belonging to Olaf Gueldmar, which had been
hauled up high and dry on the shore for many months, was suddenly seen
afloat on the Fjord, and Valdemar Svensen, Errington's pilot, appeared
to be busily engaged upon her decks, putting everything in ship-shape
order. It was no use asking _him_ any questions--he was not the man to
gratify impertinent curiosity. By-and-by a rumor got about in the
village--Lovisa had gained her point in one particular,--the Gueldmars
were going away--going to leave the Altenfjord!

At first, the report was received with incredulity--but gained ground,
as people began to notice that several packages were being taken in
boats from the farm-house to both the _Eulalie_ and the _Valkyrie_.
These preparations excited a great deal of interest and
inquisitiveness,--but no one dared ask for information as to what was
about to happen. The Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy was confined to his bed
"from a severe cold"--as he said, and therefore was unable to perform
his favorite mission of spy;--so that when, one brilliant morning,
Bosekop was startled by the steam-whistle of the _Eulalie_ blowing
furiously, and echoing far and wide across the surrounding rocky
islands, several of the lounging inhabitants paused on the shore, or
sauntered down to the rickety pier, to see what was the cause of the
clamor. Even the long-suffering minister crawled out of bed and applied
his fat, meek visage to his window, from whence he could command an
almost uninterrupted view of the glittering water. Great was his
amazement, and discomfiture to see the magnificent yacht moving
majestically out of the Fjord, with Gueldmar's brig in tow behind her,
and the English flag fluttering gaily from her middle-mast, as she
curtsied her farewell to the dark mountains, and glided swiftly over the
little hissing waves. Had Mr. Dyceworthy been possessed of a
field-glass, he might have been able to discern on her deck, the figure
of a tall, fair girl, who, drawing her crimson hood over her rich hair,
stood gazing with wistful