tepped forward, made a deep but somewhat awkward bow, and was
dimly aware that a small soft hand was extended to him, and, in the next
moment, was enclosed in his own broad and voluminous palm. He grasped it
firmly, and, in one of those profound abstractions into which he was
apt to fall when under the sway of a strong impression, pressed it with
increasing cordiality, while he endeavored to find fitting answers to
Arnfinn's multifarious questions.

"To tell the truth, Vording," he said, in a deep, full-ringing bass,
"I didn't know that these were your cousin's barns--I mean that your
uncle"--giving the unhappy hand an emphatic shake--"inhabited these
barns."

"No, thank heaven, we are not quite reduced to that," cried Arnfinn,
gayly; "we still boast a parsonage, as you will presently discover,
and a very bright and cozy one, to boot. But, whatever you do, have the
goodness to release Augusta's hand. Don't you see how desperately she is
struggling, poor thing?"

Strand dropped the hand as if it had been a hot coal, blushed to the
edge of his hair, and made another profound reverence. He was a tall,
huge-limbed youth, with a frame of gigantic mold, and a large, blonde,
shaggy head, like that of some good-natured antediluvian animal, which
might feel the disadvantages of its size amid the puny beings of this
later stage of creation. There was a frank directness in his gaze, and
an unconsciousness of self, which made him very winning, and which could
not fail of its effect upon a girl who, like Augusta, was fond of the
uncommon, and hated smooth, facile and well-tailored young men, with
the labels of society and fashion upon their coats, their mustaches,
and their speech. And Strand, with his large sun-burned face, his
wild-growing beard, blue woolen shirt, top boots, and unkempt appearance
generally, was a sufficiently startling phenomenon to satisfy even so
exacting a fancy as hers; for, after reading his book about the
Wading Birds, she had made up her mind that he must have few points of
resemblance to the men who had hitherto formed part of her own small
world, although she had not until now decided just in what way he was to
differ.

"Suppose I help you carry your knapsack," said Arnfinn, who was flitting
about like a small nimble spaniel trying to make friends with some
large, good-natured Newfoundland. "You must be very tired, having roamed
about in this Quixotic fashion!"

"No, I thank you," responded Strand