by his sword, lines, and
trident, and, seating himself at Hilda's feet, went diligently to work.

The schoolroom was the hermit's hut on the cliff which overlooked the
fiord. It was selected of necessity, because the old man guarded his
parchments with tender solicitude, and would by no means allow them to
go out of his dwelling, except when carried forth by his own hand. On
the first occasion of the meeting of the young couple for study,
Christian sat down beside them, and was about to expound matters, when
Erling interposed with a laugh.

"No, no, Christian, thou must permit Hilda to teach me, because she is
an old friend of mine, who all her life has ever been more willing to
learn than to teach. Therefore am I curious to know how she will change
her character."

"Be it so, my son," said the hermit, with a smile, folding his hands on
his knee, and preparing to listen, and, if need be, to correct.

"Be assured, Erling," said Hilda, "that I know very little."

"Enough for me, no doubt," returned the youth.

"For a day or two, perhaps," said the too-literal Hilda; "but after that
Christian will have--"

"After that," interrupted Erling, "it will be time enough to consider
that subject."

Hilda laughed, and asked if he were ready to begin. To which Erling
replied that he was, and, sitting down opposite to his teacher, bent
over the parchment, which for greater convenience she had spread out
upon her knee.

"Well," began Hilda, with a slight feeling of that pardonable
self-importance which is natural to those who instruct others older than
themselves, "that is the first letter."

"Which?" asked Erling, gazing up in her face.

"That one there, with the long tail to it. Dost thou see it?"

"Yes," replied the youth.

"How canst thou say so, Erling," remonstrated Hilda, "when thou art
looking all the time straight in my face!"

"But I _do_ see it," returned he, a little confused; "I am looking at it
_now_."

"Well," said she, "that is--"

"Thou art looking at it upside down, my son," said the hermit, who had
been observing them with an amused expression of countenance.

"Oh, so he is; I never thought of that," cried Hilda, laughing; "thou
must sit beside me, Erling, so that we may see it in the same way."

"This one, now, with the curve _that_ way," she went on, "dost thou see
it?"

"See it!" thought Erling, "of course I see it: the prettiest little hand
in all the dale!" But he only said--