Vanda was now a tall girl, whose beauty fulfilled its early promise.  She had passed successfully a very difficult examination at Bergen which entitled her to take a professor’s chair, in a superior school.  But she preferred to remain at Noroe with her mother, and she was going to fill Mr. Malarius’ place during his absence:  always serious and gentle, she found in teaching a strange and inexplicable charm, but it had not changed the simplicity of her home life.  This beautiful girl, in her quaint Norwegian costume, was able to give tranquilly her opinion on the deepest scientific subjects, or seat herself at the piano, and play with consummate skill a sonata of Beethoven.  But her greatest charm was the absence of all pretension, and her perfectly natural manners.  She no more thought of being vain of her talents, or of making any display of them, than she did of blushing on account of her rural costume.  She bloomed like some wild flower, that, growing beside the fiord, had been transplanted by her old master, and cultivated and cherished in his little garden behind the school.

In the evening all Erik’s adopted family were assembled in the parlor of Dr. Schwaryencrona; Mr. Bredejord and the doctor were about to play a last game of whist with Mr. Hochstedt.  They discovered that Mr. Malarius was also an authority in this noble game, which would enable them to while away many leisure hours on board the “Alaska.”  Unfortunately the worthy instructor also told them, at the same time, that he was always a victim of sea-sickness, and nearly always confined to his bed as soon as he set foot upon a vessel.  Only his affection for Erik had induced him to join the expedition, added to the ambition, long fondly cherished, of being able to add some more varieties to his catalogue of botanical families.

After which they had a little music:  Kajsa, with a disdainful air, played a fashionable waltz; Vanda sung an old Scandinavian melody with a sweetness that surprised them all.  The tea was served, and a large bowl of punch, which they drunk to the success of the expedition, followed.  Erik noticed that Kajsa avoided touching his glass.

“Will you not wish me a happy voyage?” he said to her, in a low tone.

“What is the use of wishing for what we do not expect to see granted?” she answered.

The next morning, at day-break, every one went on board, except Tudor Brown.

Since the receipt of his letter containing the check they had not heard a word from him.

The time of departure had been fixed for ten o’clock.  At the first stroke, the commander, Mr. Marsilas, had the anchor hoisted, and rang the bell to warn all visitors to leave the ship.

“Adieu, Erik!” cried Vanda, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Adieu, my son!” said Katrina, pressing the young lieutenant to her heart.

“And you, Kajsa, have you nothing to say to me?” he asked, as he walked toward her as if to embrace her also.