And that was the feeling of his heart.  The ten years he had passed out there on the lonely coast were among the best of his life, and that life had been wild and adventurous enough; so, whether he was now weary of the world, or whether it was his little daughter, or whether it was the sea that attracted him, or whether it was something of all three, he had quieted down, and never once thought of leaving the lighthouse of Bratvold.  This was what no one could have credited; and when it was rumoured that Richard Garman, the attache, a son of the first commercial family of the town, was seeking the simple post of lighthouse-keeper, most people were inclined to laugh heartily at this new fancy of “the mad student.”  “The mad student” was a nickname in the town for Richard Garman, which was doubtless well earned; for although he had been but little at home since he had grown to manhood, enough was known of his wild and pleasure-seeking career to make folks regard him with silent wonder.

To add to this, too, the visits he paid to his home were generally coincident with some remarkable event or another.  Thus it was when, as a young student, he was present at his mother’s funeral; and even more so when he came at a break-neck pace from Paris to the death-bed of the old Consul, in a costume and with an air which took away the breath of the ladies, and caused confusion among the men.  Since then Richard had been but little seen.  Rumour, however, was busy with him.  At one time some commercial traveller had seen him at Zinck’s Hotel at Hamburg; now he was living in a palace; and now the story was that he was existing in the docks, and writing sailors’ letters for a glass of beer.

One fine day Garman and Worse’s heavy state carriage was seen on its way to the quay.  Inside sat the head of the firm, Consul C.F.  Garman, and his daughter Rachel, while little Gabriel, his younger son, was sitting by the side of the coachman.  An unbearable curiosity agitated the groups on the quay.

The state carriage was seldom to be seen in the town, and now at this very moment the Hamburg steamer was expected.  At length an employe of the firm came to the carriage window, and, after a few irrelevant remarks, ventured to ask who was coming.

“I am expecting my brother the attache, and his daughter,” answered Consul Garman, while with a movement peculiar to himself he adjusted his smoothly shaven chin in his stiff neckcloth.

This information increased the excitement.  Richard Garman was coming, “the mad student,” “the attache” as he was sometimes called; and with a daughter, too!  But how could they belong to each other?  Could he ever have been really married?  It was hardly likely.

The steamer came.  Consul Garman went on board, and returned shortly after with his brother and a little dark-haired girl, who doubtless was the daughter.

Richard Garman was soon recognized, although he had grown somewhat stouter:  but the upright, elegant bearing and the striking black moustache were still the same; while the hair, though crisp and curling as in the old days, was now slightly necked with grey at the temples.  He greeted them all with a friendly smile as he passed to the carriage, and there was more than one lady who felt that the glance of his bright brown eye rested smilingly on her for a moment.