not. There is that in her which will prevent me."

"She is like all women, I fancy," Orme said; "very tender where they
are loved. They set more store upon love than men do, and whosoever
offers it to them, it is a valuable thing, and enhances the offerer."

"That is not Gudrid's way," said Einar.

Orme felt sorry for him.

"Thorbeorn will make a marriage for Gudrid, you may be sure," he said.
"And I dare swear she will be a good wife to the man who gets her."

"It is certain," said Einar.

Early next day he weighed his anchor and went down the frith. Now he
leaves the tale.

But he did not leave Gudrid's mind, who now had little else to think
of. Her father said nothing to her of the reason which had brought her
home. He was stately and remote. Nor did he mention his difficulties,
which were gathering so close about his house. But they were common
knowledge at Bathbrink, and Gudrid heard of little else from morning
till night. There was scarcity there, not of provision, but of guests.
No young men came about the house, or filled the great table in the
hall. Other men came, who wanted money, and went grumbling away, with
voices which rose higher in complaint as they went further from the
house. Thorbeorn himself was often away, and used to come back more
silent and proud than he had gone out. The winter set in with wind and
drifting snow. Darkness drew closer about the country; the sky was
lemon colour, the fells were black. It was the time of great fires,
and long festivals within-doors; but Thorbeorn's hall remained empty.

In the face of such manifest misery the love she had given to Einar and
received from him shone far off like a winter star, which had no warmth
for the blood. She used to look fondly at her token and try to make
herself believe that his strong teeth had bitten the deep gauffres into
its edge. When she succeeded the scene came back to her, she felt
again as she had when he had been standing there beside her on the brae
overlooking the racing water. Her eyes grew misty as she looked away
into the dark, holding her relic clenched in her hand. But it was not
real; these were only dreams of him.

So the winter came upon Bathbrink and lapped it in snow, and love grew
numb with cold.

VI

Towards winter's end Thorbeorn roused himself. He had made up his mind
to face his troubles, and now saw a way of doing so with nobility. He
would break up his homestead, sell his