ring, enshrining this
one glorious flash of grace, and brightness, and loveliness, is
indelibly impressed upon my mind. Not alone during that half hour of
fading sunset, but day after day, and night after night, the embroidered
spray wreaths of the Riukan were falling before me.

We turned away reluctantly at last, when the emerald pavement of
Undine's palace was no longer visible through the shooting meteors of
silver foam. The depths of Westfjord-dal were filled with purple
darkness: only the perfect pyramid of the Gousta, lifted upon a mountain
basement more than 4000 feet in height, shone like a colossal wedge of
fire against the violet sky. By the time we reached our horses we
discovered that we were hungry, and, leaving the attendants to follow at
their leisure, we urged the tired animals down the rocky road. The smell
of fresh-cut grain and sweet mountain hay filled the cool evening air;
darkness crept under the birches and pines, and we no longer met the
home-going harvesters. Between nine and ten our horses took the way to a
_gaard_ standing a little off the road; but it did not appear to be Ole
Torgensen's, so we kept on. In the darkness, however, we began to doubt
our memory, and finally turned back again. This time there could be no
mistake: it was _not_ Ole Torgensen's. I knocked at various doors, and
hallooed loudly, until a sleepy farmer made his appearance, and started
us forward again. He kindly offered to accompany us, but we did not
think it necessary. Terribly fatigued and hungry, we at last saw a star
of promise--the light of Ole's kitchen window. There was a white cloth
on the table in the guests' house, and Ole's charming daughter--the Rose
of Westfjord-dalen--did not keep us long waiting. Roast mutton, tender
as her own heart, potatoes plump as her cheeks, and beer sparkling as
her eyes, graced the board; but emptiness, void as our own celibate
lives, was there when we arose. In the upper room there were beds, with
linen fresh as youth and aromatic as spring; and the peace of a full
stomach and a clear conscience descended upon our sleep.

In the morning we prepared for an early return to Mael, as the boatmen
were anxious to get back to their barley-fields. I found but one
expression in the guests' book--that of satisfaction with Ole Torgensen,
and cheerfully added our amen to the previous declarations. Ole's bill
proved his honesty, no less than his worthy face. He brightened up on
learning tha