“If only I might always serve you!” he cried. “Oh, Blanche, I love you! I love you! Will you not trust yourself to me?” Blanche had received already several offers of marriage; they had been couched in much better terms, but they had lacked the passionate ardor of Frithiof’s manner. All in a moment she was conquered; she could not even make a feint of resistance, but just put her hand in his. “I will always trust you,” she faltered. Then, as she felt his strong arm round her and his kisses on her cheek, there flashed through her mind a description she had once read of— “a strong man from the North, Light-locked, with eyes of dangerous gray.” It was a love worth having, she thought to herself; a love to be proud of! “But Frithiof,” she began, after a timeless pause, “we must keep our secret just for a little while. You see my father is not here, and—” “Let me write to him and ask his consent,” exclaimed Frithiof. “No, no, do not write. Come over to England in October and see him yourself, that will be so much better.” “Must we wait so long?” said Frithiof, his face clouding. “It is only a few weeks; papa will not be at home till then. Every one is away from London, you know. Don’t look so anxious; I do not know your face when it isn’t happy—you were never meant to be grave. As for papa, I can make him do exactly what I like, you need not be afraid that he will not consent. Come! I have promised to trust to you, and yet you doubt me.” “Doubt you!” he cried. “Never! I trust you, before all the world; and if you tell me to wait—why then—I must obey.” “How I love you for saying that,” cried Blanche, clinging to him. “To think that you who are so strong should say that to me! It seems wonderful. But indeed, indeed, you need not doubt me. I love you with my whole heart. I love you as I never thought it possible to love.” Frithiof again clasped her in his arms, and there came to his mind the sweet words of Uhland: “Gestorben war ich Vor Liebeswonn, Begraben lag ich In Ihren Armen; Erwechet ward ich Von Ihren Küssen, Den Himmel sah ich In Ihren Augen.” CHAPTER IV. “We were beginning to think some accident had happened to you,” said Sigrid, who stood waiting at the door of the hotel. “And so it did,” said Blanche, laughing, “I think I should have broken my neck if it hadn’t been for your brother. It was all the fault of this treacherous alpenstock which played me false.” And then, with a sympathetic little group of listeners, Blanche gave a full account of her narrow escape. “And you are really not hurt at all? Not too much shaken to care to dance to-night?”