A balmy wind blew in from the Fjord, and rustled mysteriously among the pines; the sky was flecked here and there with fleecy clouds, and a number of birds were singing in full chorus.

Old Gueldmar heaved a sigh of relief, as though his recent outburst of passion had done him good.
"I will tell you, Sir Philip," he said, ruffling his daughter's curls as he spoke,--"I will tell you why I detest the villain Dyceworthy.

It is but fair you should know it.

Now, Thelma!--why that push to my knee?
You fear I may offend our friends again?
Nay, I will take good care.

And so, first of all, I ask you, what is your religion?
Though I know you cannot be Lutherans." Errington was somewhat taken aback by the question.