"It is so fortunate," she said, "that Ulfar has found a little out-of-the-way girl to appreciate his great beauty. The world at present does not think much of masculine beauty. A handsome fellow who starts for any of its prizes is judged to be frivolous and poetical, perhaps immoral: you see Byron's beauty made him unfit for a legislator, he could do nothing but write poetry. I should say it was Ulfar's best card to marry this innocent with the queer name: with his face and figure, he will never get into Parliament. No one would trust him with taxes. He is born to make love, and he and his country Phyllis can go simpering and kissing through life together. If I were interested in Ulfar----" "You are interested in Ulfar, Sarah," interrupted Elizabeth. "You said so to me last night." "Did I? Nevertheless, life does not give us time really to question ourselves, and it is the infirmity of my nature to mistake feeling for evidence." "You must not change your opinions so quickly, Sarah." "It is often an element of success to change your opinions. It is hesitating among a variety of views that is fatal. The man who does not know what he wants is the man who is held cheap." "I am sure I know what I want, Sarah." And as he spoke, Ulfar looked with intelligence at the fair widow, and in answer she shot from her bright blue eyes a bolt of summer lightning that set aflame at once the emotional side of Ulfar's nature. "You say strange things, Sarah. I wish it was possible to understand you." "'Who shall read the interpretation thereof?' is written on everything we see, especially on women." "I believe," said Elizabeth, "that Ulfar has quarrelled with his country maid. Is there a quarrel, Ulfar, really?" "No," he answered, with some temper. Sarah nodded at Ulfar, and said softly: "The absent must be satisfied with the second place. However, if you have quarrelled with her, Ulfar, turn over a new leaf. I found that out when poor Sandys was alive. People who have to live together must blot a leaf now and then with their little tempers. The only thing is to turn over a new one." "If anything unpleasant happens to me," said Ulfar, "I try to bury it." "You cannot do it. The past is a ghost not to be laid; and a past which is buried alive, it is terrible." It was Sarah who spoke, and with a sombre earnestness not in keeping with her usual character. There was a minute's pregnant silence, and it was broken by the entrance of a servant with a letter. He gave it to Ulfar.