Part 3 (1/2)

she said, turning to her sons, ”and unpack the carriages. And you, my dear child, must by all means go and amuse yourself with the young people; just leave the catering to me; I know all about that.”

And the kind-hearted woman looked with her honest gray eyes at her host's pretty daughter, and patted her on the cheek.

How nice that felt! There was a peculiar coziness in the touch of the comfortable old lady's soft hand. The tears almost rose to Rebecca's eyes; she stood as if she expected that the strange lady would put her arms round her neck and whisper to her something she had long waited to hear.

But the conversation glided on. The young people, with ever-increasing glee, brought all sorts of strange parcels out of the carriages. Mrs.

Hartvig threw her cloak upon a chair and set about arranging things as best she could. But the young people, always with Mr. Lintzow at their head, seemed determined to make as much confusion as possible. Even the Pastor was infected by their merriment, and to Rebecca's unspeakable astonishment she saw her own father, in complicity with Mr. Lintzow, biding a big paper parcel under Mrs. Hartvig's cloak.

At last the racket became too much for the old lady. ”My dear Miss Rebecca,” she exclaimed, ”have you not any show-place to exhibit in the neighborhood--the farther off the better--so that I might get these crazy beings off my hands for a little while?”

”There's a lovely view from the King's Knoll; and then there's the beach and the sea.”

”Yes, let's go down to the sea!” cried Max Lintzow.

”That's just what I want,” said the old lady. ”If you can relieve me of _him_ I shall be all right, for he is the worst of them all.”

”If Miss Rebecca will lead the way, I will follow wherever she pleases,”

said the young man, with a bow.

Rebecca blushed. Nothing of that sort had ever been said to her before.

The handsome young man made her a low bow, and his words had such a ring of sincerity. But there was no time to dwell upon this impression; the whole merry troop were soon out of the house, through the garden, and, with Rebecca and Lintzow at their head, making their way up to the little height which was called the King's Knoll.

Many years ago a number of antiquities had been dug up on the top of the Knoll, and one of the Pastor's predecessors in the parish had planted some hardy trees upon the slopes. With the exception of a rowan-tree, and a walnut-avenue in the Parsonage garden, these were the only trees to be found for miles round on the windy slopes facing the open sea.

In spite of storms and sand-drifts, they had, in the course of time, reached something like the height of a man, and, turning their bare and gnarled stems to the north wind, like a bent back, they stretched forth their long, yearning arms towards the south. Rebecca's mother had planted some violets among them.

”Oh, how fortunate!” cried the eldest Miss Hartvig; ”here are violets!

Oh, Mr. Lintzow, do pick me a bouquet of them for this evening!”

The young man, who had been exerting himself to hit upon the right tone in which to converse with Rebecca, fancied that the girl started at Miss Frederica's words.

”You are very fond of the violets?” he said, softly.

She looked up at him in surprise; how could he possibly know that?

”Don't you think, Miss Hartvig, that it would be better to pick the flowers just as we are starting, so that they may keep fresher?”

”As you please,” she answered, shortly.

”Let's hope she'll forget all about it by that time,” said Max Lintzow to himself, under his breath.

But Rebecca heard, and wondered what pleasure he could find in protecting her violets, instead of picking them for that handsome girl.

After they had spent some time in admiring the limitless prospect, the party left the Knoll and took a foot-path downward towards the beach.

On the smooth, firm sand, at the very verge of the sea, the young people strolled along, conversing gayly. Rebecca was at first quite confused.

It seemed as though these merry towns-people spoke a language she did not understand. Sometimes she thought they laughed at nothing; and, on the other hand, she herself often could not help laughing at their cries of astonishment and their questions about everything they saw.

But gradually she began to feel at her ease among these good-natured, kindly people; the youngest Miss Hartvig even put her arm around her waist as they walked. And then Rebecca, too, thawed; she joined in their laughter, and said what she had to say as easily and freely as any of the others. It never occurred to her to notice that the young men, and especially Mr. Lintzow, were chiefly taken up with her; and the little pointed speeches which this circ.u.mstance called forth from time to time were as meaningless for her as much of the rest of the conversation.