How his pulses throbbed when at length he caught sight of Sigrid’s figure! and with what skill he guided his boat toward the cliff, shouting out encouragement and warning! The two were both so stiff and exhausted that it was no easy task to get them down into the boat, but he managed it somehow, and a glad cheer from above showed that the watchers were following their every movement with eager sympathy.
“Let us walk back quickly,” said Mr. Boniface, “that we may be ready to meet them,” and with an intensity of relief they hurried back to Britling Gap, arriving just in time to greet the three as they walked up the beach. Sigrid, though rather pale and exhausted, seemed little the worse for the adventure, and a glad color flooded her cheeks when Mr. Boniface turned to Frithiof and grasping his hand, thanked him warmly for what he had done. Cecil said scarcely anything; she could hardly trust herself to speak, but her heart beat fast as, glancing at Frithiof, she saw on his face the bright look which made him once more like the Frithiof she had met long ago at Bergen.
Mr. Boniface insisted on keeping them all till the following day, when once more they enjoyed the delights of coaching, getting back to London in the cool of the evening, laden with wild roses, hawthorn, and field flowers, which gladdened more than one of their neighbors’ rooms in the model lodgings.
It was not till Wednesday in Whitsun-week that Frithiof found himself in his old place behind the counter, and it took several days before they all got into working order again, for though the holiday had done them good, yet it was not very easy to get back into the routine of business. But by Monday everything was in clockwork order again, and even Mr. Horner, though ready enough at all times to grumble, could find nothing to make a fuss about. It happened that day that Mr. Horner was more in the shop than usual, for Roy had unexpectedly been obliged to go to Paris on business, and it chanced, much to his satisfaction, that, while Mr. Boniface was dining, Sardoni the tenor called to speak about a song. There was nothing that he enjoyed so much as interviewing any well-known singer; he seemed to gain a sort of reflected glory in the process, and Frithiof could hardly help smiling when at the close of the interview they passed through the shop, so comical was the obsequious manner of the little man toward the tall, jolly-looking singer, and so curious the contrast between the excessive politeness of his tone to the visitor, and his curt command, “Open the door, Falck.”