URING six delightful weeks of travel and sightseeing through the wonderfully picturesque scenery of Sweden and Norway, Percy was again the comrade and escort of Dolores.
Day by day a thousand nameless acts of kindness and respectful unobtrusive attentions, as thoughtful as they were delicate, endeared him to the heart, at whose portal love, clothed in his most ancient and most successful disguise of friendship, was effecting an entrance.
It was late in November when the party returned to Copenhagen.
"My business matters will detain me here a week, possibly ten days," Percy said. "You will need that time to thoroughly enjoy the Thorvaldsen and the Ethnological Museums—which are in their way the finest in the world. Then I shall be ready to escort you to Paris, before I report myself at London."
Madame Volkenburg returned to Christiania the day previous to the intended departure of her friends. But at the expiration of the week, just as Percy was planning to make an exit from the cold bleak Island, Dolores sprained her ankle, and was unable to leave her room during four weeks. Percy found business enough to employ a few hours of each day in the interest of the London and American houses, and the remainder of the time he passed agreeably in entertaining the ladies. He read aloud, told interesting stories of adventure and travel, and made himself so thoroughly charming that Dolores forgot her misfortune in view of the happy hours it brought her.
When she at length declared herself able to proceed upon her journey another obstacle presented itself. The weather became unusually cold; and the Sounds, surrounding the island on which Copenhagen is situated, were packed with jagged blocks of ice, too thick to be broken by a steamer, but not sufficiently connected to make it safe for men or teams to venture on them. Our friends were prisoners, consequently, upon an almost inaccessible island.
"The blockade cannot last forever," Percy said, when he had informed the ladies of the condition of matters. "That is all the consolation I can give you at present. It may last a week, or a month, I am led to understand. In the meantime, we must enjoy ourselves as best we can. I am very sorry Madame Volkenburg did not remain with us, to share a little jaunt to Kaskilde—the ancient Capital of Denmark, which we will make to-morrow."
"What is there to see at Kaskilde?" inquired Dolores.
"A cathedral, of course," Percy answered. "No doubt you are tired of cathedrals, but this is a famous one: a relic of the ancient grandeur of the city when it numbered 100,000 souls. Its population is less than 5,000 now. You will find much to interest you there, as this building has been the burial-place of nearly all the Danish kings."