y, their flight. When fissures covered with snow intercepted
them, Seraphitus caught Minna in his arms and darted with rapid motion,
lightly as a bird, over the crumbling causeways of the abyss. Sometimes,
while propelling his companion, he deviated to the right or left to
avoid a precipice, a tree, a projecting rock, which he seemed to see
beneath the snow, as an old sailor, familiar with the ocean, discerns
the hidden reefs by the color, the trend, or the eddying of the
water. When they reached the paths of the Siegdahlen, where they could
fearlessly follow a straight line to regain the ice of the fiord,
Seraphitus stopped Minna.

"You have nothing to say to me?" he asked.

"I thought you would rather think alone," she answered respectfully.

"Let us hasten, Minette; it is almost night," he said.

Minna quivered as she heard the voice, now so changed, of her guide,--a
pure voice, like that of a young girl, which dissolved the fantastic
dream through which she had been passing. Seraphitus seemed to be laying
aside his male force and the too keen intellect that flames from his
eyes. Presently the charming pair glided across the fiord and reached
the snow-field which divides the shore from the first range of houses;
then, hurrying forward as daylight faded, they sprang up the hill
toward the parsonage, as though they were mounting the steps of a great
staircase.

"My father must be anxious," said Minna.

"No," answered Seraphitus.

As he spoke the couple reached the porch of the humble dwelling where
Monsieur Becker, the pastor of Jarvis, sat reading while awaiting his
daughter for the evening meal.

"Dear Monsieur Becker," said Seraphitus, "I have brought Minna back to
you safe and sound."

"Thank you, mademoiselle," said the old man, laying his spectacles on
his book; "you must be very tired."

"Oh, no," said Minna, and as she spoke she felt the soft breath of her
companion on her brow.

"Dear heart, will you come day after to-morrow evening and take tea with
me?"

"Gladly, dear."

"Monsieur Becker, you will bring her, will you not?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

Seraphitus inclined his head with a pretty gesture, and bowed to the old
pastor as he left the house. A few moments later he reached the great
courtyard of the Swedish villa. An old servant, over eighty years of
age, appeared in the portico bearing a lantern. Seraphitus slipped off
his snow-shoes with the graceful dexterity of a woman, then dartin