nger an
earthly being, but more like some fair wondering sprite from the
legendary Norse kingdom of _Alfheim_, the "abode of the Luminous Genii."

She was gazing upwards,--heavenwards,--and her expression was one of
rapt and almost devotional intensity. Thus she remained for some
moments, motionless as the picture of an expectant angel painted by
Raffaele or Correggio; then reluctantly and with a deep sigh she turned
her eyes towards earth again. In so doing she met the fixed and too
visibly admiring gaze of her companion. She started, and a wave of vivid
color flushed her cheeks. Quickly recovering her serenity, however, she
saluted him slightly, and, moving her oars in unison, was on the point
of departure.

Stirred by an impulse he could not resist, he laid one hand detainingly
on the rim of her boat.

"Are you going now?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows in some little surprise and smiled.

"Going?" she repeated. "Why, yes. I shall be late in getting home as it
is."

"Stop a moment," he said eagerly, feeling that he could not let this
beautiful creature leave him as utterly as a midsummer night's dream
without some clue as to her origin and destination. "Will you not tell
me your name?"

She drew herself erect with a look of indignation.

"Sir, I do not know you. The maidens of Norway do not give their names
to strangers."

"Pardon me," he replied, somewhat abashed. "I mean no offense. We have
watched the midnight sun together, and--and--I thought--"

He paused, feeling very foolish, and unable to conclude his sentence.

She looked at him demurely from under her long, curling lashes.

"You will often find a peasant girl on the shores of the Altenfjord
watching the midnight sun at the same time as yourself," she said, and
there was a suspicion of laughter in her voice. "It is not unusual. It
is not even necessary that you should remember so little a thing."

"Necessary or not, I shall never forget it," he said with sudden
impetuosity. "You are no peasant! Come; if I give you my name will you
still deny me yours?"

Her delicate brows drew together in a frown of haughty and decided
refusal. "No names please my ears save those that are familiar," she
said, with intense coldness. "We shall not meet again. Farewell!"

And without further word or look, she leaned gracefully to the oars, and
pulling with a long, steady, resolute stroke, the little boat darted
away as lightly and swiftly as a skimming sw