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,