and each day she grew more and more so. She was a
second Igenborg. Knowing that she needed other companionship than an old
man, I sought and brought her Cnut (he spoke of him as if I must know
all about him). Cnut was the son of my only kinsman, the last of his
line as well, and he was tall and straight and strong. I loved him and
he was my son, and as he grew I saw that he loved her, and I was not
sorry, for he was goodly to look on, straight and tall as one of old,
and he was good also. And she was satisfied with him, and from a child
ordered him to do her girlish bidding, and he obeyed and laughed, well
content to have her smile. And he would carry her on his shoulder, and
take her on the mountain to slide, and would gather her flowers. And
I thought it was well. And I thought that in time they would marry and
have the farm, and that there would be children about the house, and the
valley might be filled with their voices as in the old time. And I was
content. And one day _he_ came! (the reference cost him an effort). Cnut
found him fainting on the mountain and brought him here in his arms. He
had come to the village alone, and the idle fools there had told him of
me, and he had asked to meet me, and they told him of the mountain, and
that none could pass the Devil's Ledge but those who had the old blood,
and that I loved not strangers; and he said he would pass it, and he had
come and passed safely the narrow ledge, and reached the Devil's Seat,
when a stone had fallen upon him, and Cnut had found him there fainting,
and had lifted him and brought him here, risking his own life to save
him on the ledge. And he was near to death for days, and she nursed him
and brought him from the grave.

"At first I was cold to him, but there was something about him that drew
me and held me. It was not that he was young and taller than Cnut, and
fair. It was not that his eyes were clear and full of light, and his
figure straight as a young pine. It was not that he had climbed the
mountain and passed the narrow ledge and the Devil's Seat alone, though
I liked well his act; for none but those who have Harold Haarfager's
blood have done it alone in all the years, though many have tried and
failed. I asked him what men called him, and he said, 'Harold;' then
laughing, said some called him, 'Harold the Fair-haired.' The answer
pleased me. There was something in the name which drew me to him. When
I first saw him I had thought of Harald H