Good Books

And later on, when old Gueldmar slumbered soundly, and the
golden mid-night sunshine lit up every nook and gable of the farmhouse
with its lustrous glory, making Thelma's closed lattice sparkle like a
carven jewel,--a desolate figure lay prone on the grass beneath her
window, with meagre pale face, and wide-open wild blue eyes upturned to
the fiery brilliancy of the heavens. Sigurd had come home;--Sigurd was
repentant, sorrowful, ashamed,--and broken-hearted.


CHAPTER XIII.
"O Love! O Love! O Gateway of Delight!
Thou porch of peace, thou pageant of the prime
Of all God's creatures! I am here to climb
Thine upward steps, and daily and by night
To gaze beyond them and to search aright
The far-off splendor of thy track sublime."
ERIC MACKAY'S _Love-letters of a Violinist_.

On the following morning the heat was intense,--no breath of wind
stirred a ripple on the Fjord, and there was a heaviness in the
atmosphere which made the very brightness of the sky oppressive.


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