When they reached the paths of the Siegdahlen, where they
could fearlessly follow a straight line to regain the ice of the
fiord, Seraphitus stopped Minna.
"You have nothing to say to me?" he asked.
"I thought you would rather think alone," she answered respectfully.
"Let us hasten, Minette; it is almost night," he said.
Minna quivered as she heard the voice, now so changed, of her guide,
--a pure voice, like that of a young girl, which dissolved the
fantastic dream through which she had been passing. Seraphitus seemed
to be laying aside his male force and the too keen intellect that
flames from his eyes. Presently the charming pair glided across the
fiord and reached the snow-field which divides the shore from the
first range of houses; then, hurrying forward as daylight faded, they
sprang up the hill toward the parsonage, as though they were mounting
the steps of a great staircase.
"My father must be anxious," said Minna.
"No," answered Seraphitus.
As he spoke the couple reached the porch of the humble dwelling where
Monsieur Becker, the pastor of Jarvis, sat reading while awaiting his
daughter for the evening meal.
"Dear Monsieur Becker," said Seraphitus, "I have brought Minna back to
you safe and sound.
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