eagerly to turn the leaves of his hymn-
book. It troubled her that he made no effort to
see her; many an evening she had walked alone
down at the river-side, hoping that he might
come; but it was all in vain. She could not but
believe that his father must have made some
discovery, and that he was watched. In the
mean time the black cloud thickened over her
head; for a secret gnawed at the very roots of
her heart. It was a time of terrible suspense
and suffering--such as a man never knows, such
as only a woman can endure. It was almost a
relief when the cloud burst, and the storm broke
loose, as presently it did.

One Sunday, early in April, Bjarne did not
return at the usual hour from church. His
daughters waited in vain for him with the dinner,
and at last began to grow uneasy. It was
not his habit to keep irregular hours. There
was a great excitement in the valley just then;
the America-fever had broken out. A large
vessel was lying out in the fjord, ready to take
the emigrants away; and there was hardly a
family that did not mourn the loss of some
brave-hearted son, or of some fair and cherished
daughter. The old folks, of course, had to
remain behind; and when the children were gone,
what was there left for them but to lie down
and die? America was to them as distant as if