And the two separated.
The professor had resumed his former habits, and his daily walks as well. In company with Joel and Hulda, he spent several hours every day in visiting the points of interest in and about Dal—not going too far, however, for fear of wearying the young girl. Much of his time, too, was devoted to his extensive correspondence. He wrote letter after letter to Bergen and Christiania, stimulating the zeal all who were engaged in the good work of searching for the Viking. To find Ole seemed to be his sole aim in life now.
He even felt it his duty to again absent himself for twenty-four hours, doubtless for an object in some way connected with the affair in which Dame Hansen’s family was so deeply interested; but, as before, he maintained absolute silence in regard to what he was doing or having done in this matter.
In the meantime Hulda regained strength but slowly. The poor girl lived only upon the recollection of Ole; and her hope of seeing him again grew fainter from day to day. It is true, she had near her the two beings she loved best in the world; and one of them never ceased to encourage her; but would that suffice? Was it not necessary to divert her mind at any cost? But how was her mind to be diverted from the gloomy thoughts that bound her, as it were, to the shipwrecked Viking?
The 12th of July came. The drawing of the Christiania Schools Lottery was to take place in three days.
It is needless to say that Sandgoist’s purchase had come to the knowledge of the public. The papers announced that the famous ticket bearing the number 9672 was now in the possession of Mr. Sandgoist, of Drammen, and that this ticket would be sold to the highest bidder; so, if Mr. Sandgoist was now the owner of the aforesaid ticket, he must have purchased it for a round sum of Hulda Hansen.
Of course this announcement lowered the young girl very decidedly in public estimation. What! Hulda Hansen had consented to sell the ticket belonging to her lost lover? She had turned this last memento of him into money?
But a timely paragraph that appeared in the Morgen-Blad gave the readers a true account of what had taken place. It described the real nature of Sandgoist’s interference, and how the ticket had come into his hands. And now it was upon the Drammen usurer that public odium fell; upon the heartless creditor who had not hesitated to take advantage of the misfortunes of the Hansen family, and as if by common consent the offers which had been made while Hulda held the ticket were not renewed. The ticket seemed to have lost its supernatural value since it had been defiled by Sandgoist’s touch, so that worthy had made but a bad bargain, after all, and the famous ticket, No. 9672, appeared likely to be left on his hands.
It is needless to say that neither Hulda nor Joel was aware of what had been said, and this was fortunate, for it would have been very painful to them to become publicly mixed up in an affair which had assumed such a purely speculative character since it came into the hands of the usurer.
Late on the afternoon of the 12th of July, a letter arrived, addressed to Professor Sylvius Hogg.
This missive, which came from the Naval Department, contained another which had been mailed at Christiansand, a small town situated at the mouth of the Gulf of Christiania. It could hardly have contained any news, however, for Sylvius Hogg put it in his pocket and said nothing to Joel or his sister about its contents.
But when he bade them good night on retiring to his chamber, he remarked:
“The drawing of the lottery is to take place in three days as you are, of course, aware, my children. You intend to be present, do you not?”
“What is the use, Monsieur Sylvius?” responded Hulda.
“But Ole wished his betrothed to witness it. In fact, he particularly requested it in the last lines he ever wrote, and I think his wishes should be obeyed.”
“But the ticket is no longer in Hulda’s possession,” remarked Joel, “and we do not even know into whose hands it has passed.”
“Nevertheless, I think you both ought to accompany me to Christiania to attend the drawing,” replied the professor.
“Do you really desire it, Monsieur Sylvius?” asked the young girl.
“It is not I, my dear Hulda, but Ole who desires it, and Ole’s wishes must be respected.”
“Monsieur Sylvius is right, sister,” replied Joel. “Yes; you must go. When do you intend to start, Monsieur Sylvius?”
“Tomorrow, at daybreak, and may Saint Olaf protect us!”
XVI
The next morning Foreman Lengling’s gayly painted karjol bore away Sylvius Hogg and Hulda, seated comfortably side by side. There was not room for Joel, as we know already, so the brave fellow trudged along on foot at the horse’s head.
The fourteen kilometers that lay between Dal and Moel had no terrors for this untiring walker.
Their route lay along the left bank of the Maan, down the charming valley of the Vesfjorddal—a narrow, heavily wooded valley, watered by a thousand dashing cataracts. At each turn in the path, too, one saw appearing or disappearing the lofty summit of Gousta, with its two large patches of dazzling snow.
The sky was cloudless, the weather magnificent, the air not too cool, nor the sun too warm.
Strange to say, Sylvius Hogg’s face seemed to have become more serene since his departure from the inn, though it is not improbable that his cheerfulness was a trifle forced, so anxious was he that this trip should divert Joel and Hulda from their sorrowful thoughts.
It took them only about two hours and a half to reach Moel, which is situated at
