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 Olé, 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, what do you mean to do?”
“I have decided that,” replied Hans; “I will fish all winter in the deep sea, and all summer I will—”
“Well, what will you?”
“Alas! I know not. Would that I were a pilot, but I am not.”
“But you know the coast as well as any pilot,” said 016.