ssor, a scoundrel, and it serves him right."

"Yes, friend Helmboe, it does, indeed, serve him right."

Of course they had to take supper at the farm-house. Neither Siegfrid
nor her father would allow their friends to depart without accepting
the invitation, but it would not do for them to tarry too long if they
wished to make up for the time lost by coming around by the way of
Bamble, so at nine o'clock the horses were put to the carriage.

"At my next visit I will spend six hours at the table with you, if you
desire it," said Sylvius Hogg to the farmer; "but to-day I must ask
your permission to allow a cordial shake of the hand from you and the
loving kiss your charming Siegfrid will give Hulda to take the place
of the dessert."

This done they started.

In this high latitude twilight would still last several hours. The
horizon, too, is distinctly visible for a long while after sunset, the
atmosphere is so pure.

It is a beautiful and varied drive from Bamble to Kongsberg. The road
passes through Hitterdal and to the south of Lake Fol, traversing the
southern part of the Telemark, and serving as an outlet to all the
small towns and hamlets of that locality.

An hour after their departure they passed the church of Hitterdal, an
old and quaint edifice, surmounted with gables and turrets rising
one above the other, without the slightest regard to anything like
regularity of outline. The structure is of wood--walls, roofs and
turrets--and though it strongly resembles a motley collection of
pepper-boxes, it is really a venerable and venerated relic of the
Scandinavian architecture of the thirteenth century.

Night came on very gradually--one of those nights still impregnated
with a dim light which about one o'clock begins to blend with that of
early dawn.

Joel, enthroned upon the front seat, was absorbed in his reflections.
Hulda sat silent and thoughtful in the interior of the carriage. But
few words were exchanged between Sylvius Hogg and the postilion, and
these were almost invariably requests to drive faster. No other sound
was heard save the bells on the harness, the cracking of the whip,
and the rumble of wheels over the stony road. They drove on all night,
without once changing horses. It was not necessary to stop at
Listhus, a dreary station, situated in a sort of natural amphitheater,
surrounded by pine-clad mountains. They passed swiftly by Tiness,
too, a picturesque little hamlet, perched on a rocky