_Rime Popolari._

Errington and Lorimer pulled away across the Fjord in a silence that
lasted for many minutes. Old Gueldmar stood on the edge of his little
pier to watch them out of sight. So, till their boat turned the sharp
corner of the protecting rock, that hid the landing-place from view,
they saw his picturesque figure and gleaming silvery hair outlined
clearly against the background of the sky--a sky now tenderly flushed
with pink like the inside of a delicate shell. When they could no longer
perceive him they still rowed on speaking no word,--the measured,
musical plash of the oars through the smooth, dark olive-green water
alone breaking the stillness around them. There was a curious sort of
hushed breathlessness in the air; fantastic, dream-like lights and
shadows played on the little wrinkling waves; sudden flushes of crimson
came and went in the western horizon, and over the high summits of the
surrounding mountains mysterious shapes, formed of purple and grey mist,
rose up and crept softly downwards, winding in and out deep valleys and
dark ravines, like wandering spirits sent on some secret and sorrowful
errand. After a while Errington said almost vexedly--

"Are you struck dumb, George? Haven't you a word to say to a fellow?"

"Just what I was about to ask _you_," replied Lorimer carelessly; "and I
was also going to remark that we hadn't seen your mad friend up at the
Gueldmar residence."

"No. Yet I can't help thinking he has something to do with them, all the
same," returned Errington meditatively. "I tell you, he swore at me by
some old Norwegian infernal place or other. I dare say he's an Odin
worshipper, too. But never mind him. What do you think of _her_?"

Lorimer turned lazily round in the boat, so that he faced his companion.

"Well, old fellow, if you ask me frankly, I think she is the most
beautiful woman I ever saw, or, for that matter, ever heard of. And I am
an impartial critic--perfectly impartial."

And, resting on his oar, he dipped the blade musingly in and out of the
water, watching the bright drops fall with an oil-like smoothness as
they trickled from the polished wood and glittered in the late sunshine
like vari-colored jewels. Then he glanced curiously at Philip, who sat
silent, but whose face was very grave and earnest,--even noble, with
that shade of profound thought upon it. He looked like one who had
suddenly accepted a hig