"Now, Helga," said John, "I recollect you called me a cool and calculating Englishman. I shall take you down to the lake, where it will be cool, and there I shall find a Smørblomst, or a buttercup, and by placing it to your chin, I shall be able to calculate the transparency of your complexion from the reflection of colour."
"Don't tease me, John, about what I said to you last year," said Helga, imploringly. "If I said anything that pained you, I am sorry for it; but do not always keep it alive against me."
"There is the rose of Rosendal, mother, and the jewel of Hardy Place," said Hardy to his mother, on his unpunctual return to lunch. "She is so good and single-minded that it is impossible to invent ways of teasing her."
"Then I should not try, John," said his mother.
A few days before John's marriage, his friend and neighbour, Sir Charles Lynton, arrived at Rosendal.
"It is a lovely place, John," said his friend; "but, I suppose, nothing to be compared with the loveliness of your Scandinavian princess?"
"Don't quiz," said Hardy; "but come out and try a cast for an hour or so for the Danish trout. We can also visit a landowner near, who breeds good Jutland horses, and I know that is in your line."
"By all means," said his friend.
The stout proprietor, Jensen, was pleased with their visit, and the opportunity of hearing another Englishman's opinion as to his stock of horses.
"They want bone," said Sir Charles, "and to be kept better through the winter."