“You say that because things are as you like; because you are happy,” said Blanche. “It is true, I am very happy,” he replied. “Who would not be happy walking with you?” Something in his manner frightened her a little. She went on breathlessly and incoherently. “You wouldn’t say that life is a very good thing if you were like our poor people in East London, for instance.” “Indeed, no,” he said gravely. “That must be a great blot on English life. Here in Norway we have no extremes. No one is very poor, and our richest men have only what would be counted in England a moderate income.” “Perhaps that is why you are such a happy people.” “Perhaps,” said Frithiof, but he felt little inclined to consider the problem of the distribution of wealth just then, and the talk drifted round once more to that absorbing personal talk which was much more familiar to them. At length the top of the mountain was reached, and a merry little picnic ensued. Frithiof was the life of the party, and there was much drinking of healths and clinking of glasses, and though the cold was intense every one seemed to enjoy it, and to make fun of any sort of discomfort. “Come!” said Sigrid to Cecil Boniface, “you and I must add a stone to the cairn. Let us drag up this great one and put it on the top together in memory of our friendship.” They stood laughing and panting under the shelter of the cairn when the stone was deposited, the merry voices of the rest of the party floating back to them. “Do you not think we are dreadful chatterers, we Norwegians?” said Sigrid. “I think you are delightful,” said Cecil simply. Something in her manner touched and pleased Sigrid. She had grown to like this quiet English girl. They were silent for some minutes, looking over that wonderful expanse of blue fjords and hoary mountains, flecked here and there on their somber heights by snow-drifts. Far down below them a row-boat could be seen on the water, looking scarcely bigger than the head of a pin: and as Cecil watched the lovely country steeped in the golden sunshine of that summer afternoon, thoughts of the Frithiof Saga came thronging through her mind, till it almost seemed to her that in another moment she should see the dragon ship the “Ellida,” winging her way over the smooth blue waters.