Surely the smile has changed to a tear, for Signe has wiped one away from her cheek.

To Signe, the journey that day was made up of strange thoughts and experiences.  The landscape, the stopping at the stations, the coming and going of people, Hr.  Bogstad’s letter, the folks at home, the uncertain future,—­all seemed to mingle and to form one chain of thought, which ended only when the train rolled into the glass-covered station at Christiania.

With a firm grasp on her valise, she picked her way through the crowd with its noise and bustle, and placed herself safely in the care of a hackman, who soon set her down at her lodgings.

At the steamship office she learned that the steamer was not to sail for three days.  So Signe meant to see what she could of the city.  It was her first visit to the capital, and perhaps her last.  She would make the best of her time.  She had no friends in the city, but that did not hinder her from walking out alone.  In the afternoon of the second day, Signe went to the art gallery, and that was the end of her sightseeing to other parts.  She lingered among the paintings of the masters and the beautiful chiseled marble—­the first she had seen—­until the attendant reminded her that it was time to close.

That evening the landlady informed her that a visitor had been inquiring for her during the day, a gentleman.  Who could it be?  He was described, and then Signe knew that it was Hr.  Bogstad.  He had said that he could call again in the evening.

Signe was troubled.  What should she do?  He was following her, but they must not meet.  It would do no good.  The steamer was to sail tomorrow, and she would go on board that night.  She called a carriage and was driven to the wharf.  Yes, it was all right, said the steward, and she was made comfortable for the night.

Among the crowd of people that came to see the steamer sail, Signe thought she caught sight of Hr.  Bogstad elbowing through the throng to get to the ship.  But he was too late.  The third bell had rung, the gangplank was being withdrawn, and the vessel was slowly moving away.  Signe had concealed herself among the people, but now she pressed to the railing and waved her handkerchief with the rest.

Farewell to Norway, farewell to home and native land.  Signe’s heart was full.  All that day she sat on deck.  She had no desire for food, and the crowded steerage had no attractions.  So she sat, busy with her thoughts and the sights about the beautiful Christiania fjord.

Early the next morning they steamed into Christiansand, and a few hours later, the last of Norway’s rocky coast sank below the waters of the North Sea.

All went well for a week.  Signe had not suffered much from seasickness, but now a storm was surely coming.  Sailors were busy making everything snug and tight; and the night closed in fierce and dark, with the sea spray sweeping the deck.