The next morning Sir Philip arrived unusually early,--and remained shut up with the bonde, in private conversation for more than an hour. At the expiration of that time, Thelma was called, and taken into their confidence. The result of their mysterious discussion was not immediately evident,--though for the next few days, the farm-house lost its former tranquility and became a scene of bustle and excitement. Moreover, to the astonishment of the Bosekop folk, the sailing-brig known as the Valkyrie, belonging to Olaf Güldmar, which had been hauled up high and dry on the shore for many months, was suddenly seen afloat on the Fjord, and Valdemar Svensen, Errington's pilot, appeared to be busily engaged upon her decks, putting everything in ship-shape order. It was no use asking him any questions--he was not the man to gratify impertinent curiosity. By-and-by a rumor got about in the village--Lovisa had gained her point in one particular,--the Güldmars were going away--going to leave the Altenfjord!
At first, the report was received with incredulity--but gained ground, as people began to notice that several packages were being taken in boats from the farm-house to both the Eulalie and the Valkyrie. These preparations excited a great deal of interest and inquisitiveness,--but no one dared ask for information as to what was about to happen. The Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy was confined to his bed "from a severe cold"--as he said, and therefore was unable to perform his favorite mission of spy;--so that when, one brilliant morning, Bosekop was startled by the steam-whistle of the Eulalie blowing furiously, and echoing far and wide across the surrounding rocky islands, several of the lounging inhabitants paused on the shore, or sauntered down to the rickety pier, to see what was the cause of the clamor. Even the long-suffering minister crawled out of bed and applied his fat, meek visage to his window, from whence he could command an almost uninterrupted view of the glittering water. Great was his amazement, and discomfiture to see the magnificent yacht moving majestically out of the Fjord, with Güldmar's brig in tow behind her, and the English flag fluttering gaily from her middle-mast, as she curtsied her farewell to the dark mountains, and glided swiftly over the little hissing waves. Had Mr. Dyceworthy been possessed of a field-glass, he might have been able to discern on her deck, the figure of a tall, fair girl, who, drawing her crimson hood over her rich hair, stood gazing with wistful, dreamy blue eyes, at the last receding shores of the Altenfjord--eyes that smiled and yet were tearful.