The way to Rosendal was over the sandy road for two English miles, when the entrance gate was reached, leading up an avenue of lime trees that had been pollarded. The storms would certainly have pollarded them in a more irregular manner than the hand of man. The house was a much larger house than Pastor Lindal's parsonage, but after the same fashion. The entrance steps were wider, but the whole arrangement of the mansion was after the same plan. There was the same too near proximity of the stables and cow houses, possibly essential in cold weather, for their being attended to. The view from the front of the house was to a lake of about thirty acres. On each side of the lake were very large beech trees, with juniper bushes underneath; and the effect was, as the Pastor had said, idyllic. A narrow valley was planted with roses, and through it a path led to the lake, hence the name Rosendal. The beech trees were of great age, and the rising ground on each side had protected them from the prevailing winds. The effect on the eye, in comparison with the nakedness of the surrounding country, was forcible, and John Hardy was impressed by the natural and distinctive beauty of the place. Froken Helga had scarcely replied to his attempts at conversation on the way to Rosendal. She had run races with her brothers and entered into all their whims and caprices, but to John Hardy she had only replied in monosyllables; but when she saw the effect the beauty of the place had on Hardy, she said-- "Is it not a pretty place?" "It has its peculiar beauty, Froken Helga," replied Hardy. "I would rather live here than any place I know," said Helga. "The peace and calm of the beech woods, and the fret of the wind waves on the shore of the lake, suggest thoughts that are unspeakable to me." Hardy started. She had spoken in a simple manner, but he felt that she experienced all she uttered. He now understood Pastor Lindal's words that Rosendal was Helga's enthusiasm. Then there was an appreciation of nature and her mysteries that Hardy had thought impossible out of English refinement and its influence. "Can we go through the house?" said Hardy, as if with a sudden determination. "I wish to see it." "The Forvalter or bailiff lives in the house, and if he is not at home his wife is, or their servant," replied Helga. The house had reception-rooms after the older Danish fashion, and were such as could be made comfortable, even to an English tenant. John Hardy asked the bailiff's wife if she could point out the boundary of the property; and this was done from the rising ground behind the house. A visit to the valley of roses was made, and a stroll through the beech woods. Karl and Axel had ran to the shores of the lake, and had hunted along its banks to find wild ducks' eggs, happily without success.