It was in this carriage, which was the talk of the country, that the bishop, who was always his own charioteer, travelled about in his diocese, dressed in a white linen coat in summer, and in winter in a sheepskin coat, only accompanied by a young stable boy with a bright button on his cap. Without sparing either himself or his spavined horse, he journeyed in rain and sunshine for miles around the country, taking his clergy by surprise when they least expected him—very different from his right reverend colleagues, who always announced their arrival in the most solemn manner, at least a fortnight beforehand, so that everything might be ready for a fitting reception.
When Emanuel reached the Parsonage they were already at lunch—the table was spread, contrary to the usual custom, under the flowering horse chestnuts in the garden. This was by the bishop's desire; he said a meal in the open air was to him a most regal pleasure; so Miss Ragnhild—though not very willingly—had complied with his wish.
It had become almost unbearably hot. The glowing rays of the sun fell from a cloudless sky on to the glittering gravel paths with such a glare that it was quite painful to the eyes; all kinds of stinging insects disported themselves in the shade. The lawns and flower-beds, in spite of constant watering, were sadly burnt up by the sun. When now and again a faint breeze stirred the trees, the
