eaks,
ending in the curious dragon-pennants, which I recognized as one of the
old Norsk wooden churches of a past age.

When, however, an hour later, we had got down to the table-land, I found
myself suddenly in front of a long, quaint, double log cottage, set
between two immense bowlders, and roofed with layers of birch bark,
covered with turf, which was blue with wild pansies. It was as if
it were built under a bed of heart's-ease. It was very old, and had
evidently been a house of some pretension, for there was much curious
carving about the doors, and indeed about the whole front, the dragon's
head being distinctly visible in the design. There were several lesser
houses which looked as if they had once been dwellings, but they seemed
now to be only stables. As we approached the principal door it was
opened, and there stepped forth one of the most striking figures I
ever saw--a young woman, rather tall, and as straight as an arrow.
My friend's words involuntarily recurred to me, "A daughter of the
Vikings," and then, somehow, I too had the feeling he had expressed,
"Poor thing!" Her figure was one of the richest and most perfect I ever
beheld. Her face was singularly beautiful; but it was less her beauty
than her nobility of look and mien combined with a certain sadness which
impressed me. The features were clear and strong and perfectly carved.
There was a firm mouth, a good jaw, strong chin, a broad brow, and deep
blue eyes which looked straight at you. Her expression was so soft and
tender as to have something pathetic in it. Her hair was flaxen, and as
fine as satin, and was brushed perfectly smooth and coiled on the back
of her shapely head, which was placed admirably on her shoulders.
She was dressed in the coarse, black-blue stuff of the country, and
a kerchief, also dark blue, was knotted under her chin, and fell back
behind her head, forming a dark background for her silken hair.

Seeing us she stood perfectly still until we drew near, when she made
a quaint, low courtesy and advanced to meet her father with a look of
eager expectancy in her large eyes.

"Elsket," he said, with a tenderness which conveyed the full meaning of
the sweet pet term, "darling."

There was something about these people, peasants though they were, which
gave me a strange feeling of respect for them.

"This is Doctor John's friend," said the old man, quietly.

She looked at her father in a puzzled way for a moment, as if she had