"Oh, father," the boy cried, "we thought you were dead—killed by the lightning."
Then his pent-up feelings found their freedom in an outburst of passionate, healing tears. Clifford folded him in his arms and comforted him.
"And you cared so much?" the father asked, with a thrill of gladness.
"Yes, yes!" the boy whispered, clinging close to him.
Then arm-in-arm they came to Knutty, who in her unselfishness had stood back, wanting her two icebergs to have their meeting to themselves.
"Dear one," she said, with tears in her eyes, "I have done all my crying, and every one can tell you that I have behaved disgracefully. And now I can do my scolding. How dared you give us so much anxiety? Ak, it is all too much for me. I'm going to cry after all."
He stooped and kissed her hand.
"Don't scold me, and don't cry, dear Knutty," he said. "I have come back from the mountains strong and glad."
They all pressed round him, greeting him warmly. Every one belonging to the Gaard seemed to him to be there, except Katharine. And he hungered for the sight of her.
"Knutty," he asked, "where is she—where is Miss Frensham?"