“Then if you put off time talking with me you will not find it easy to overtake them; but I forgot: I suppose you count it an easy matter to overtake ordinary men?”
“I shall not find it difficult,” replied the youth briefly; and then, perceiving that Bertha felt uneasy—apparently at the tenor of the conversation—he quietly changed it by remarking that he preferred to walk by the lake for several reasons, one of which was that it reminded him of Scotland.
“Ah, you profess to love Scotland very much,” said Bertha archly, “but your brother evidently loves it more than you do.”
“With good reason, too,” replied Hake, “for it has given him a bride, and it had no such favours for me.”
“Indeed! what is her name?” asked the maiden, with much interest.
“Emma.”
“Poor Emma,” sighed Bertha; “but I hope that Heika will be freed one day and return to his native land to wed Emma. Perchance by that time Scotland may smile upon you too, and give you cause to love it better.”
“I love it well already,” said Hake, with enthusiasm, “yet am I content to stay here.”
“For shame, Hake! you do not deserve to be a Scot if you mean what you say.”
“I mean what I say, yet do I deserve to be a Scot.”