Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1893-08-31

wandering home from the far-off
fields, and was the only sign of life
about the Thure homestead.
Old Liof had gone for visit with
two Norwegians just returned from a
fifteen-y years sojourn in the Western
States of America. They found old
Norway very slow after the nervous
hustle of the New World. The boys
were making the most of their holiday,
and had trudged away early in the
morning, each bearing gifts to his
sweetheart. Gerda had persistently
refused to join in the pleasures of the
festival of st. John, and had strayed
out this delicious night, going from
boulder to boulder, until she had clam
bered nearly to the top of the noun
tain through the lichen, whortleberries
and ferns.
She had moped all day, said the
great, rough brothers, Olaf and Byn
and Nils and Brun and Rolf; while
Jarl the youngest and more nearly in
sympathy with his sister, had watched
her wistfully when she was among the
red-currant bushes of the garden and
whispered softly to his brothers: "She
will never forget him"
One year before, upon this very
st. Johns eve, the little steamer
which came tri-weekly from the
Morse capitol, bringing with it
a breath of the great world,
in the shape of tourists who found
ford charming novelty,
had stopped at the little quay nearest
to Liot Thure's dwelling, late in the
afternoon, when the purest OF purple
shadows were lying over the lake.
Gerda stood waiting for its arrival,
and the mate handed to her a small
parcel, which from its size and shape
one could easily guess contained a
pair of new shoes
"Great heavens, what lovely girl !"
exclaimed a voice in English rs the
boat moved away. and, looking upward
at the steamers tiny deck, Gerda saw
a man whose dark eyes spoke to her
plainly the sentiments which her Morse
ear failed to comprehend.
The superb fringes other large, dark
blue eyes dropped as she walked away.
He was an artist and an American, of
that she was sure, for he had had
sketch book and pencil in hand, and
bore about him the general air of
assurance which characterizes the
American at home and abroad.
She had seen many of them
who had passed through Vik,
finding a constant interest in
the exquisite scenery of the ford, and
the mountains of the waterfalls and
the stretches of green slope, with the
hay stacked on the wooden fences to
dry; she smiled again the next after
noon when she turned her boat home
ward after long ramble, and remem-
bered his tone and glance.
The evening was coming on, and the
setting sun tinged the snow-tops faint
pink, while the green grass on the
mountain-side was covered with white
daisies, like powder of pearls. Her
boat was filed with harebells and
purplish heath plants and ferns and
mignonette, and as she reached the
small wooden bridge which stretched
across an arm of the ford, she saw a
stranger leaning upon the rail and
watching her. 1t required no second
glimpse to assure the Morse girl that
it was he whose admiration of her had
been so outspoken upon the steamer
the night before. In moment he was
at her side.
''Let me help you" he exclaimed as
she gathered the boat S fragrant freight
In her arms, after making the
tiny craft fast, and although the tongue
in which he spoke was stranger to
her, she needed no dictionary to in
| terpret his actions as he walked home
ward beside her, and easily persuaded
old Liof Thure to accommodate him as
boarder.
He was a landscape student from New
Orleans, with dreams and a great am
bition, and he had come to paint the
wild beauties of the Morse scenery and
the glinting sunshine which laughed
through the tall, swaying pines.
For six months he had lived in the
family of Liof Thure, and had acquired
enough of the Norwegian to tell them
of the distant city of his birth, of his
hopes, and his prospects and his friends.
He had learned to listen with the
keenest pleasure to the sweet voice of
Gerda during the long days and even
ings, when she explained to him the
lore of her country and the folk-tales
os.he North-of the castle of the pirate
Erik, and the three hunters turned to
stone--o the mystery of the parsley
bed and the milk white deer and the
white worm of the witches; and
how the spectre-cross in the en-