weather, there was nothing for the men to do that need
deprive them of their lawful repose. Errington paced up and down slowly,
his yachting shoes making no noise, even as they left no scratch on the
spotless white deck, that shone in the night sunshine like polished
silver. The Fjord was very calm,--on one side it gleamed like a pool of
golden oil in which the outline of the _Eulalie_ was precisely traced,
her delicate masts and spars and drooping flag being drawn in black
lines on the yellow water as though with a finely pointed pencil. There
was a curious light in the western sky; a thick bank of clouds, dusky
brown in color, were swept together and piled one above the other in
mountainous ridges, that rose up perpendicularly from the very edge of
the sea-line, while over their dark summits a glimpse of the sun, like a
giant's eye, looked forth, darting dazzling descending rays through the
sullen smoke-like masses, tinging them with metallic green and copper
hues as brilliant and shifting as the bristling points of lifted spears.
Away to the south, a solitary wreath of purple vapor floated slowly as
though lost from some great mountain height; and through its faint, half
disguising veil the pale moon peered sorrowfully, like a dying prisoner
lamenting joy long past, but unforgotten.

A solemn silence reigned; and Errington, watching sea and sky, grew more
and more absorbed and serious. The scornful words of the proud old Olaf
Gueldmar rankled in his mind and stung him. "An idle trifler with
time--an aimless wanderer!" Bitter, but, after all, true! He looked back
on his life with a feeling kin to contempt. What had he done that was at
all worth doing? He had seen to the proper management of his
estates,--well! any one with a grain of self-respect and love of
independence would do the same. He had travelled and amused himself,--he
had studied languages and literature,--he had made many friends; but
after all said and done, the _bonde's_ cutting observations had
described him correctly enough. The do-nothing, care-nothing tendency,
common to the very wealthy in this age, had crept upon him
unconsciously; the easy, cool, indifferent nonchalance common to men of
his class and breeding was habitual with him, and he had never thought
it worth while to exert his dormant abilities. Why then, should he now
begin to think it was time to reform all this,--to rouse himself to an
effort,--to gain for himself some honor, some distin