One thing, however, was certain:  Richard got on capitally.  He kept two assistants for the lanterns; he had his riding horse Don Juan, and a cart-horse as well.  His cellar was well filled with wine; and he always had a little ready money at hand, for which he had no immediate use.  Thus, when any one complained to him of the bad times, he recommended them to come into the country; it was incredible how cheaply one could live there.

In the ten years they had passed at Bratvold, Madeleine had grown to womanhood, and had thriven beyond general expectation; and when she had got quite at home in the language (her mother had been a Frenchwoman), she soon got on the best of terms with all their neighbours.  She did not remain much in the house, but passed most of her time at the farmhouses, or by the sea, or the little boat haven.

A whole regiment of governesses had attempted to teach Madeleine, but the task was a difficult one; and when the governesses were ugly her father could not abide them, and when one came who was pretty there were other objections.  Richard paid frequent visits to Sandsgaard, either on Don Juan or in the Garmans’ dogcart, which was sent to fetch him.  The chilly, old-fashioned house, and the reserved and polished manners of its inmates, had made a repellant impression on Madeleine.  For her cousin Rachel, who was only a few years her elder, she had no liking.  She preferred, therefore, to remain at home, and her father was never absent for more than a few days at a time.  She spent most of her time on the shore or in the neighbouring cottages, in the society of fishermen and pilots.  Merry and fearless as she was, these men were glad to take her out in fine weather in their boats.  She thus learnt to fish, to handle a sail, or to distinguish the different craft by their rig.

Madeleine had one particular friend whose name was Per, who was three or four years older than herself, and who lived in the cottage nearest to the lighthouse.  Per was tall and strongly built, with a crop of stiff, sandy hair, and a big hand as hard as horn from constant rowing; his eyes were small and keen, as is often seen among those who from their childhood are in the habit of peering out to sea through rain and fog.

Per’s father had been a widower, and Per his only child, but he managed to get married again, and now the family increased year after year.  The neighbours were always urging Per to get his father to divide the property with him, but Per preferred to wait the turn of events.  The longer he waited the more brothers and sisters he had to share with.  His friends laughed at him, and somebody one day called him “Wait Per,” a joke which caused great amusement at the time, and the nickname stuck to him ever afterwards.  Beyond this, Per was not a lad to be laughed at; he was one of the most active boatmen of the community, and at the same time the most peaceable creature on earth.  He did not trouble to distinguish himself, but he had a kind of natural love for work, and, as he was afraid of nothing, the general feeling was that Per was a lad that would get on.