rch out what is good and
beautiful and useful in the land?"

"Most true, Bertha, and I have gone forth, and not gone far, and yet
have found something both good and beautiful and useful in the land."

"And pray what may that be?" asked the maiden, with a look of surprise.

Hake did not answer, but the expression of his eyes was more eloquent
than speech.

"Nay, then," said Bertha, looking hastily away, and again blushing--as a
matter of course! "I am no reader of riddles; and I hate riddles--they
perplex me so. Besides, I never could find them out. But, Hake, has
your party gone yet?"

"Yes, some time ago."

"And are you left behind?"

"No, I have leave to go by the margin of the lake."

"Then if you put off time talking with me you will not find it easy to
overtake them; but I forgot: I suppose you count it an easy matter to
overtake ordinary men?"

"I shall not find it difficult," replied the youth briefly; and then,
perceiving that Bertha felt uneasy--apparently at the tenor of the
conversation--he quietly changed it by remarking that he preferred to
walk by the lake for several reasons, one of which was that it reminded
him of Scotland.

"Ah, you profess to love Scotland very much," said Bertha archly, "but
your brother evidently loves it more than you do."

"With good reason, too," replied Hake, "for it has given him a bride,
and it had no such favours for me."

"Indeed! what is her name?" asked the maiden, with much interest.

"Emma."

"Poor Emma," sighed Bertha; "but I hope that Heika will be freed one day
and return to his native land to wed Emma. Perchance by that time
Scotland may smile upon you too, and give you cause to love it better."

"I love it well already," said Hake, with enthusiasm, "yet am I content
to stay here."

"For shame, Hake! you do not deserve to be a Scot if you mean what you
say."

"I mean what I say, yet do I deserve to be a Scot."

"Come, tell me, then, what this Scotland of yours is like. I suppose
you deem it more beautiful than Iceland?"

The youth smiled. "It is not more _wonderful_ than Iceland. I can say
that with truth--but it is passing fair to look upon. It is a land of
mountain and flood, of heath-clad braes and grassy knowes. Its mountain
peaks rise bare and rugged to the skies, where lordly eagles soar. Its
brawling burns in their infancy dash down these rugged steeps, but as
they grow older flow on through many a hazel dell, where thrush an