"That's just what I want," said the old lady. "If you can relieve
me of _him_ I shall be all right, for he is the worst of them all."

"If Miss Rebecca will lead the way, I will follow wherever she
pleases," said the young man, with a bow.

Rebecca blushed. Nothing of that sort had ever been said to her
before. The handsome young man made her a low bow, and his words
had such a ring of sincerity. But there was no time to dwell upon
this impression; the whole merry troop were soon out of the house,
through the garden, and, with Rebecca and Lintzow at their head,
making their way up to the little height which was called the
King's Knoll.

Many years ago a number of antiquities had been dug up on the top
of the Knoll, and one of the Pastor's predecessors in the parish
had planted some hardy trees upon the slopes. With the exception of
a rowan-tree, and a walnut-avenue in the Parsonage garden, these
were the only trees to be found for miles round on the windy slopes
facing the open sea. In spite of storms and sand-drifts, they had,
in the course of time, reached something like the height of a man,
and, turning their bare and gnarled stems to the north wind, like a
bent back, they stretched forth their long, yearning arms towards
the south. Rebecca's mother had planted some violets among them.

"Oh, how fortunate!" cried the eldest Miss Hartvig; "here are
violets! Oh, Mr. Lintzow, do pick me a bouquet of them for this
evening!"

The young man, who had been exerting himself to hit upon the right