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"Come along, let's have some champagne to
celebrate the day! We'll propose toasts and drink healths--we've got a
fair excuse for jollity this evening."
They all descended into the saloon, and had a merry time of it, singing
songs and telling good stories, Lorimer being the gayest of the party,
and it was long past midnight when they retired to their cabins, without
even looking at the wonders of, perhaps, the most gorgeous sky that had
yet shone on their travels--a sky of complete rose-color, varying from
the deepest shade up to the palest, in which the sun glowed with a
subdued radiance like an enormous burning ruby.
Thelma saw it, standing under her house-porch, where her father had
joined her,--Sigurd saw it,--he had come out from some thicket where he
had been hiding, and he now sat, in a humble, crouching posture at
Thelma's feet. All three were silent, reverently watching the spreading
splendor of the heavens. Once Gueldmar addressed his daughter in a soft
tone.
"Thou are happy, my bird?"
She smiled--the expression of her face was almost divine in its rapture.


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