Frithiof turned and looked at Cecil. She had taken off her hat that she might better enjoy the soft evening breeze which was ruffling up her fair hair; her blue dress was one of those shades which are called “new,” but which are not unlike the old blue in which artists have always loved to paint the Madonna; her face was very quiet and happy; the soft evening light seemed to etherealize her. “You will never know how much I owe to you,” he said impetuously. “Had it not been for all that you did for me in the past I could not possibly have been here to-night.” She had been looking toward Veblungsnaes, but now she turned to him with a glance so beautiful, so rapturously happy, that it seemed to waken new life within him. He was so amazed at the strength of the passion which suddenly took possession of him that for a time he could hardly believe he was in real waking existence; this magical evening light, this exquisite fjord with its well-known mountains, might well be the scenery of some dream; and Cecil did not speak to him, she merely gave him that one glance and smile, and then stood beside him silently, as though there were no need of speech between them. He was glad she was silent, for he dreaded lest anything should rouse him and take him back to the dull, cold past—the past in which for so long he had lived with his heart half dead, upheld only by the intention of redeeming his father’s honor. To go back to that state would be terrible; moreover, the aim no longer existed. The debts were paid—his work was over, and yet his life lay before him. Was it to be merely a business life—a long round of duty work? or was it possible that love might glorify the every-day round—that even for him this intense happiness, which as yet he could hardly believe to be real, might actually dawn? And the steamer glided on over the calm moonlit waters, and drew nearer to Veblungsnaes, where an eager-faced crowd waited for the great event of the day. A sudden terror seized Frithiof that some one would come to their end of the steamer and break the spell that bound him, and then the very fear itself made him realize that this was no dream, but a great reality. Cecil was beside him, and he loved her—a new era had begun in his life. He loved her, and grudged whatever could interfere with that strange sense of nearness to her and of bliss in the consciousness which had suddenly changed his whole world.