It took a long time really to know Roy, for he was silent and reserved; but by this time Sigrid had begun to realize how much there was in him that was well worth knowing, and her bright, easy manner had always been able to thaw his taciturn moods. He had, she perceived, his father’s large-mindedness; he studied the various problems of the day in the same spirit; to money he was comparatively indifferent; and he was wholly without that spirit of calculation, that sordid ambition which is very unjustly supposed to animate most of those engaged in retail trade. Sigrid had liked him ever since their first meeting in Norway, but only within the last two days had any thought of love occurred to her. Even now that thought was scarcely formed; she was only conscious of being unusually happy, and of feeling a sort of additional happiness, and a funny sense of relief when the rest of the party climbed the hill to the lighthouse, leaving her alone with Roy. Of what they talked she scarcely knew, but as they wandered on over low rocks and pools and shingle, hand in hand, because the way was slippery and treacherous, it seemed to her that she was walking in some new paradise. The fresh air and beauty after the smoke and the wilderness of streets; the sense of protection, after the anxieties of being manager-in-chief to a very poor household; above all, the joyous brightness after a sad past, made her heart dance within her; and in her happiness she looked so lovely that all thought of obstacles and difficulties left Roy’s mind. They sat down to rest in a little sheltered nook under the high chalk cliffs, and it was there that he poured out to her the confession of his love, being so completely carried away that for once words came readily to his lips, so that Sigrid was almost frightened by his eagerness. How different was this from Torvald Lundgren’s proposal! How utterly changed was her whole life since that wintry day when she had walked back from the Bergen cemetery! What was it that had made everything so bright to her since then? Was it not the goodness of the man beside her—the man who had saved her brother’s life—who had brought them together once more—who now loved her and asked for her love? When at last he paused, waiting for her reply, she was for a minute or two quite silent; still her face reassured Roy, and he was not without hope, so that the waiting-time was not intolerable to him. “If it were only myself to be thought about,” she said at length, “I might perhaps give you an answer more readily. But, you see, there are other people to be considered.” The admission she had made sent a throb of delight to Roy’s heart. Once sure of her love he dreaded no obstacles. “You are thinking of Frithiof,” he said. “And of course I would never ask you to leave him; but there would be no need. If you could love me—if you will be my wife—you would be much freer than you now are to help him.”