The bridegroom
stood pale and stunned. At his feet lay Borghild--
lay for a moment still, as if lifeless, then
rose on her elbows, and a dark red current
broke from her breast. The smoke scattered.
No one saw how it was done; but a moment
later Truls, the Nameless, lay kneeling at
Borghild's side.
"It WAS a worthless life, beloved," whispered
he, tenderly. "Now it is at an end."
And he lifted her up in his arms as one lifts
a beloved child, pressed a kiss on her pale lips,
and leaped into the water. Like lead they fell
into the sea. A throng of white bubbles whirled
up to the surface. A loud wail rose from
the bridal fleet, and before the day was at an
end it filled the valley; but the wail did not
recall Truls, the Nameless, or Borghild his
bride.
What life denied them, would to God that
death may yield them!
ASATHOR'S VENGEANCE.
I.
IT was right up under the steel mountain
wall where the farm of Kvaerk
lay. How any man of common sense
could have hit upon the idea of building
a house there, where none but the goat and
the hawk had easy access, had been, and I am
afraid would ever be, a matter of wonder to the
parish people. However, it was not Lage Kvaerk
who had built the house, so he could hardly be
made responsible for its situation. Moreover,
to move from a place where one's life has once
struck deep root, even if it be in the chinks and
crevices of stones and rocks, is about the same
as to destroy it.
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