who is talking
so fiercely to that fisherman."

"Oh, I see!" exclaimed Sam, who began to take her portrait without
delay.

Meanwhile Fred was observant. At first he was much amused by the scene
before him, and continued to gaze with interest at one group after
another. In a short time his curiosity was awakened by a handsome
Norwegian youth, whose gaze was fixed with intense earnestness on the
maiden whom Sam was sketching. When the girl had concluded her bargain
and gone away, he observed that the youth, who appeared to be a
fisherman from his dress, went after her.

Without well knowing what he did, and without any very definite
intentions, Fred Temple followed them, and left his friend busy with his
pencil.

The Norwegian youth soon overtook the girl, who at once received him
with a bright smile, and held out her hand. The two then went on
together, turned to the left, and followed a winding road, which led up
the side of the mountain. They appeared to converse earnestly as they
went. Fred still followed them, but in a few minutes they paused in
front of a small white house, with a green door, so he was now compelled
to pass them. As he did so, it suddenly occurred to his mind that he
was acting a mean, contemptible part in following them thus. He blushed
as he thought of this, and passed quickly forward, intending to deny his
curiosity and take a ramble. He could not help observing, however, that
the girl was weeping, and that the youth did not look happy by any
means.

Having gained the brow of an eminence which overlooked the city, Fred
sat down behind a rock to admire the beautiful scenery and to ponder
what he had seen.

While he was thus engaged, he heard the voices of two men who approached
on the other side of the rock, and did not observe him. They talked
loud, in the Norse language. Fred understood enough of it to make out
their meaning pretty well.

"I tell you what it is, Hans," said one, "give her up. You have no
chance of gaining the required sum for many years, and it's a hard case
to keep a poor girl waiting. Give her up, man, and don't go on like a
silly love-sick boy."

"Give her up!" cried he who was called Hans,--"give her up! Ah! my
friend Ole, I did not expect such counsel from thee. But I tell thee
flatly I will _not_ give her up. She loves me; I love her! Sweet
Raneilda! nothing but death shall separate us!"

"A very pretty sentiment," retorted Old, "but pray, wha