"We have caught a few trout," said Hardy, "and taken a few to the Jensens, who were so good as to make us stay to dinner, with the kind hospitality so conspicuous in Denmark."

"They are hospitable people," said the Pastor.

"But great gossips," added the daughter, who had scarcely noticed Hardy since his return. She got up and left the room.

Hardy determined to risk a question. "Your daughter is, the Jensens say, attached to a Kapellan Holm, Herr Pastor?" said he, inquiringly.

"No, decidedly not," said the Pastor. "I am sorry to say she dislikes him; his manner is not pleasant, and she considers him addicted to drink, of which I have never observed any sign. He is a good man, a little boisterous in manner. He is coming here to a.s.sist me in the winter, and will live with us. He is now in Copenhagen."

Hardy thought Helga Lindal difficult to understand. That she would marry a man that the Pastor had described was not consistent with her character; but, then, women do inconsistent things. Her manner to him was not courteous--it was unfriendly; but now and then she would speak warmly and gratefully for any kindness Hardy showed her father.

"G.o.dseier Jensen and his family are going to Rosendal to-morrow," said Hardy, after smoking some time in silence.

"Yes," said Karl; "the Frken Jensens want to ride Herr Hardy's horses."

Helga had returned, and heard what Karl said.

"Frken Mathilde Jensen is a girl with a cheerful character, open and honest, like the Danes naturally are," said Hardy.

"I think she is a great deal too forward!" said Helga, sharply.

Hardy looked at her; it was clear she meant what she said. To his view there was nothing to condemn in Mathilde Jensen's conduct. She had good animal spirits, was natural in manner, and affectionate to her parents, who rather spoilt her.

The next day Hardy rode his English horse to the Jensens' Herregaard, and Garth followed with both the Danish horses.

The Jensens were all on the doorsteps, as Hardy trotted up. The proprietor received him warmly, and his family did the like. He walked round Hardy's horse and admired him, as he had done on a previous occasion.

"It is the breadth of his loins," he said, "that sends him over his jumps. I never saw anything so fine as when he pa.s.sed the other horses, taking his leaps like nothing; and how he came in with a grand stride, by the winning post!"

"As you breed horses, Herr Jensen," said Hardy, "you should import an English mare of Buffalo's stamp; it would enormously improve your breeding stud. A stallion would not do so well, and would be very costly. It is a slower process, but a more certain one."

"Yes; but we Danes are poor," said the proprietor, "and I cannot afford the purchase of such a mare."

"When I return to England, I will see what I can do for you," said Hardy.

The side saddles were placed on Hardy's Danish horses, and they went to Rosendal, the Frken Jensens enjoying the ride greatly.

Fru Jensen went through the dairy and criticized, her husband did the same with the farm buildings, and gave Hardy useful and practical advice, which Hardy noted down and afterwards followed.

They strolled through the beech woods, and saw the valley of roses in its ragged and neglected condition. But the good proprietor would insist on seeing the farm, and on this also he gave Hardy many practical hints. They returned to the mansion and had such a lunch as Hardy had been able to arrange, which delighted Frken Mathilde Jensen from its incompleteness.

"The fact is, Herr Hardy," she said, "you want a wife. You have no idea how to manage anything. We have none of us a napkin, and everything is served abominably."

"I hope to induce my mother to come here next summer," said Hardy; but he knew Mrs. Hardy of Hardy Place would scarcely adapt herself to the situation Frken Mathilde suggested.

"No doubt your mother will do everything," said Frken Mathilde, "but a wife is the one thing needful."

"Possibly," said Hardy. "I will consult my mother on the subject."

"I do not like, Mathilde," said Fru Jensen, "your saying such things to Herr Hardy. It is not what I should have said when I was your age."

"That may be, little mother," replied Frken Mathilde; "but Englishmen are very dull, and you had none to talk to."

As they rode back to the Jensens' Herregaard, the two girls wanted to race the horses back, to Herr Jensen's and his wife's great alarm.

Hardy told them their parents did not wish it, and that, as they did not, he did not; and he, instead of riding with them, rode by the side of the proprietor's carriage. And when they arrived at the Herregaard, the girls dismounted, and Frken Mathilde said, with much emphasis--

"Herr Hardy, we thank you for your kindness to us, but we both vote that you are frightfully dull and a bore; but we like you very much."

The hospitable proprietor would not hear of Hardy's leaving; a gla.s.s of schnaps was inevitable and a smoke, and Rosendal was discussed again and again, and its advantages and defects considered from every point of view.

At last, Hardy left, and rode to Vandstrup Praestegaard, in time for a later dinner than usual Hardy told the Pastor of the practical advice Proprietor Jensen had given him, and the Pastor commented on it and approved.

Frken Helga asked if the Fru Jensen had given him any advice.

"Yes," said Hardy, "and very good advice, about the management of the people and dairy." But, he added, the Frken Jensens had decidedly advised him to marry, so as to have some one to manage these details for him; but he had replied that he must consult his mother on such a subject.

"And which you intend to do, Herr Hardy?" asked Helga.

"Certainly," said Hardy.

CHAPTER XIV.

"Good G.o.d, how sweet are all things here!

How beautiful the fields appear!

How cleanly do we feed and lie!

Lord, what good hours do we keep; How quietly we sleep!

What peace! what unanimity!

How different from the lewd fashion Is all our business, all our recreation!"

_The Complete Angler._

Frken Helga had filled the porcelain pipe with Kanaster one evening, when she said to her father that he should relate to Herr Hardy what he knew of Folketro.

"What is Folketro?" asked Hardy.

"It is the belief in supernatural subjects; for instance, the belief in the merman is a Folketro."

"I know the beautiful old ballad that is sung in Norway of the merman king rising from the sea in a jewelled dress, where the king's daughter had come to fish with a line of silk. He sings to her, and, charmed with his song, she gives him both her hands, and he draws her under the sea."

"Yes, we all know that ballad," said the Pastor; "it is known to all Scandinavians. We have, however, in Jutland, a tradition founded upon it. Two poor people who lived near Aarhus had an only daughter, called Grethe. One day she was sent to the seash.o.r.e to fetch sand, when a Havmand (merman) rose up out in the sea. His beard was greener than the salt sea, but otherwise his form was fair, and he enticed the girl to follow him into the sea, by the promise of as much silver as she could wish for. She went to the bottom of the sea, and was married to the Havmand ('Hav' is a Danish word for the sea), and had five children. One day she sat rocking the cradle of her youngest child, when she heard the church bells ring ash.o.r.e. She had almost forgotten what she had learnt of Christian faith, but the longing was so great to go to church that she wept bitterly. The merman at length allowed her to go, and she went to church. She had not been there long before the merman came to the church and called 'Grethe! Grethe!' She heard him call, but remained; this occurred three times, when the merman was heard loudly lamenting, as he returned to the sea. Grethe remained with her parents, and the merman is often heard bitterly grieving the loss of Grethe."

"The same tradition occurs in many lands," said Hardy.

"Yes, but that is the one we have here in Jutland," replied Pastor Lindal. "There is a story that comes from the neighbourhood of Ringkibing, which may have a similarity with traditions elsewhere also; but the Jutland story is as follows: For a long time no ship had been wrecked on the west coast of Jutland, and consequently the Havmand had been a long time without a victim. So he went on land and threw a hook at the cattle on the sand hills, whither they frequently wandered from the farms, and dragged them into the sea. Close to the sea lived a Bonde, who had two red yearlings, which he did not wish to lose; so he coupled them together with twigs of the mountain ash, over which the Havmand had no power. However, he threw his hook at them, but could not drag the yearlings down to the sea, as they were protected by the virtue in the mountain ash. His hook stuck in its twigs, and the yearlings came home with it, and the Bonde hung it up in his house by the chimney. One day, when his wife was at home alone, the Havmand came and took away the hook, and said, 'The first calves of red cows, with a mountain ash couple, the Havmand could not drag to the sea, and for want of my hook I have missed many a good catch.' So the Havmand returned to the sea, and since then has never taken any cattle from that part of the coast."