Such were their plans,--and, meanwhile, they were all together on the Eulalie,--a happy and sociable party,--Errington having resigned his cabin to the use of his fair betrothed, and her little maid, whose delight at the novel change in her life, and her escape from the persecution of her grandmother, was extreme. Onward they sailed,--past the grand Lofoden Islands and all the magnificent scenery extending thence to Christiansund, while the inhabitants of Bosekop looked in vain for their return to the Altenfjord.
The short summer there was beginning to draw to a close,--some of the birds took their departure from the coast,--the dull routine of the place went on as usual, rendered even duller by the absence of the "witch" element of discord,--a circumstance that had kept the superstitious villagers, more or less on a lively tension of religious and resentful excitement--and by-and-by, the rightful minister of Bosekop came back to his duties and released the Reverend Charles Dyceworthy, who straightway returned to his loving flock in Yorkshire. It was difficult to ascertain whether the aged Lovisa was satisfied or wrathful, at the departure of the Güldmars with her granddaughter Britta in their company--she kept herself almost buried in her hut at Talvig, and saw no one but Ulrika, who seemed to grow more respectably staid than ever, and who, as a prominent member of the Lutheran congregation, distinguished herself greatly by her godly bearing and uncompromising gloom.
Little by little, the gossips ceased to talk about the disappearance of the "white witch" and her father--little by little they ceased to speculate as to whether the rich Englishman, Sir Philip Errington, really meant to marry her--a consummation of things which none of them seemed to think likely--the absence of their hated neighbors, was felt by them as a relief, while the rumored fate of the crazy Sigurd was of course looked upon as evidence of fresh crime on the part of the "pagan," who was accused of having, in some way or other, caused the unfortunate lad's death. And the old farm-house on the pine-covered knoll was shut up and silent,--its doors and windows safely barred against wind and rain,--and only the doves, left to forage for themselves, crooned upon its roof, all day, or strutting on the deserted paths, ruffled their plumage in melancholy meditation, as though wondering at the absence of the fair ruling spirit of the place, whose smile had been brighter than the sunshine. The villagers avoided it as though it were haunted--the roses drooped and died untended,--and by degrees the old homestead grew to look like a quaint little picture of forgotten joys, with its deserted porch and fading flowers.