to the northward over the sandy dunes, which were dotted with patches of
heather and bent grass. In the sitting-room Madeleine's father had his
books and writing-table, and last, but not least, the large telescope.
This was made to turn on its stand, so that it commanded both the view
to the north and that out to sea. Here also Madeleine had her flowers
and her work-table; and the tasteful furniture which Uncle Garman had
ordered from Copenhagen, and which was always a miracle of cheapness to
her father, gave the room a bright and comfortable appearance.

In the long evenings when the winter storms came driving in on the
little lighthouse, father and daughter sat cosy and warm behind the
shelter of their thick walls and closed shutters, while the light fell
in regular and well-defined rays over the billows, which raged and
foamed on the shore below. The ever-changing ocean, which washed under
their very windows, seemed to give a freshness to their whole life,
while its never-ceasing murmur mingled in their conversation and their
laughter, and in her music.

Madeleine had inherited much of her father's lively nature; but she had
also a kind of impetuosity, which one of her governesses had called
defiance. When she grew up she showed, therefore, the stronger nature of
the two, and her father, as was his wont, gave way. He laughed at his
little tyrant, whose great delight was to ruffle his thick curling hair.
When, in his half-abstracted way, the old gentleman would tell her
stones which threatened to end unpleasantly, she would scold him well;
but when, from some cause or other, he was really displeased with her,
it affected her so much that the impression remained for a long time.
Her nature was bright and joyous, but she yearned for the sunshine, and
when her father was out of spirits she could not help fancying that it
was her fault, and became quite unhappy.