g to a melody which he invented, and
called "Thora's melody."

And his youth seemed to be given back to him, for the deep furrows
vanished from his forehead, his eyes, which had always been cast down,
as though he revolved the past, or his own thoughts, now looked
brightly upwards again, and around his lips again played joyously the
smile of Oski.

And he stirred not night or day from his young wife's side; and was
never weary of stroking her long golden hair, or looking deep into her
golden joyfully glistening eyes.

But in the night he often held her high aloft in his arms, and silently
showed her to the silent stars.

And he had himself seized the helm, to turn the Singing Swan towards
the south, for he said, "Thora shall see the islands of the blest, in
the blue Grecian waters, where marble statues, white and slender as
herself, look out from among evergreen laurels."

And the flame marks on the Swan's wings were effaced, and mast and
spars must always be wreathed with flowers, for Thora loved flowers.

But the young wife had eyes for Halfred alone. She spoke but few words;
but with sweet smiles she often whispered--

"Yes, verily, thou art the Son of Heaven. Mortal men, such as I have
often seen in my father's hall, could never be at once so strong and so
gentle. Thou art like the sea a furious irresistible God, and withal a
lovely dreaming child."

And when she glided across the ship, all in snow white garments, and
with her golden flowing hair, the men on the rowing benches sat with
oars suspended, and Hartvik, at the helm, forgot to guide the ship's
course, and followed her steps with wondering eyes.

And when they drew near to land, and the people saw her hovering on the
wings of the Singing Swan--where she loved to stand--they brought
offerings of flowers, for they believed that Frigg, or Freya, had
sailed in to visit them.

And Halfred told me that she grew more beautiful from day to day.

And in this wise passed four times seven nights.

And Halfred was so infatuated and absorbed in Thora, that he did not in
the least observe what was brewing among the sailors, or how his blood
brethren, who held themselves aloof from him, whispered together.

He heard once, as he remembered afterwards that Hartvik whispered to
Eigil, "No I tell thee. He will never do it himself, or by free will.
Therefore the physician must by force burn out the wound from the
sufferer."

He neither noticed nor understood