ul manner, of a piece with that in which he now spoke to her and
looked at her. He evidently desired to inspire her with courage--after
what had happened last night. She could have taken her plate with what
was on it and flung it in his face!

His triumphal song had been in his own honour! He had been hymning his
own worthiness!

A decanter with wine stood on the table. Joergen poured out a large
glass, drank it slowly, and rose with a dignified: "Excuse me!" adding
in the doorway: "I must look if the boy has taken my portmanteau."

In a moment he was back again. "Time is almost up." He closed the door,
and hurried across the room to Mary, who was now standing at the
window. This time he drew her quickly into his arms and began to kiss.

"No more of that, please!" she said with all her old queenliness, and
turned away from him. She walked proudly into the hall, put on her coat
with the assistance of the maid who hastened to help, chose a hat,
looked out to see the state of the weather, and then took her parasol.
The maid opened the front door. Mary passed out quickly, Joergen
following, mortally offended. He was unconscious of any transgression.

They walked on for a time silent. But Mary was in such a state of
suppressed rage that when she at last remembered to put up her parasol,
she almost broke it. Joergen saw this.

"Remember," she said--and it sounded as if she had suddenly acquired a
new voice--"I don't care about letters. And I can't write letters."

"You don't wish me to write to you?" He had also a new voice.

She did not answer, nor did she look at him.

"But if anything should happen--?" said he.

"Well, of course then--! But you forget that you have Mrs. Dawes."

And as if this were not enough, she added: "I don't imagine that you,
either, are a good letter-writer, Joergen. So there will be nothing
lost."

He could have struck her.

As ill luck would have it, the surly old Lapland dog was at the
landing-place with his master. No sooner did he catch sight of Joergen
than he began to bark. All his master's attempts to silence him were in
vain.

Every one turned to look at the new-comers. Joergen had at once picked up
a small stone, and Mary had asked him in a low voice not to throw it.
The steamer was now lying to; it diverted the attention of all,
including the dog. For this moment Joergen had been waiting; he flung the
stone with all his might, and a loud howl arose. He immediately turned
t