"Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy
father's house, into a land that I will show thee."--_Gen. 12:1_.
Signe Dahl sat in the little coupe of the railroad train which was
carrying her to Christiania. She was the sole occupant of the
compartment, her big valise resting on the opposite seat. Out through
the lowered window she looked at the flying landscape, a mingling of
pine hills, waters, and green meadows. An hour ago she had boarded the
train at Holmen, the nearest station to Nordal. Early that morning she
had tearfully kissed them all good-by and had begun her journey to that
haven of rest from old country oppressions--America. She and her mother
had planned it, and the father had at last given his consent. It was all
the outcome of Hr. Bogstad's persistent devotions to the family on the
island in the lake.
Tiring of the scenery, Signe took from a bundle a letter. It had been
handed her by the postmaster at Nordal that morning as she drove past,
and was from Hr. Bogstad, who was in the North with a party of tourists.
She opened it and read:
"I wrote you a letter about a week ago, describing our trip up to that
time. I hope you have received it. You know I have no eye for the
beautiful, but I did the best I could. You should have been along and
seen it all yourself.
"And now I write you again, because, dear friend, I have heard a rumor
from home that you are going to America. It is news to me if it is true.
Dear Signe, don't. Wait, at least, until I can see you again, because I
have something to tell you whether you go or stay. I am coming home as
fast as steam can carry me. Please, don't run off like that. Why should
you? I ask myself. But there, it's only rumor. You're not going, and
I'll see you again in a few days, when I shall tell you all about the
rest of the trip."
A smile played on Signe's face, but it soon changed to a more sober
expression. What was she to cause such a commotion in the life of a man
like Hr. Bogstad? That he was in earnest she knew. And here she was
running away from him. He would never see her again. How disappointed he
would be! She could see him driving from the station, alighting at the
ferry, springing into a boat, and skimming over to the island. Up the
steep bank he climbs, and little Hakon runs down to meet him, for which
he receives his usual bag of candy. Perhaps he gets to the house before
he finds out. Then--?
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.
Signe staggered down into the dimly lighted steerage. Most of the poor
emigrants had crawled into their bunks, and were rolling back and forth
with each lurch of the ship. Signe sat and talked with a Danish girl,
each clinging to a post.
"I don't feel like going to bed," said the girl.
"Nor I. What a night it is!"
"Do you think we shall get safely across?"
"Why, certainly," replied Signe. "You mustn't be frightened at a
storm."
"I try not to be afraid, but I'm such a coward."
"Think about something pleasant, now," suggested the other. "Remember
where you're going and whom you are going to meet."
The girl from Denmark had confided to Signe that she was going to join
her lover in America.
The girl tried to smile, and Signe continued: "What a contrast between
us. I am running away; you are going to meet someone--"
Crash! A blow struck the ship and shook it from end to end; and
presently the machinery came to a full stop. Then there was hurrying of
feet on deck, and they could hear the boatswain's shrill pipe, and the
captain giving commands. The steerage was soon a scene of terror. Those
who rushed up the stairs were met with fastened doors, and were
compelled to remain below. Women screamed and prayed and raved. Then the
steward came in, and informed them that there was no danger, and the
scene somewhat quieted down. On further inquiry it was learned that they
had collided with another ship. Some damage had been done forward, but
there was no further danger. However, very few slept that night, and
when morning broke, clear and beautiful, with glad hearts they rushed up
into the open air.
The second class was forward. Three of the passengers had been killed
and quite a number injured.
If Signe had not been so poor, and had not refused help from Hr.
Bogstad, she would have taken second class passage. But now, thank God
for being poor and--independent!
In another week they landed at New York, and each went her own way.
Signe Dahl took the first train for Chicago.