could see it to be
her duty to sacrifice herself, on no account would she sacrifice the
babe who had only her to think and care for him. She would do
nothing in any way to prejudice its future." This was the tenor of her
constant conversation. It was stated anew every morning, it was
reiterated every hour of the day; and with every day's reiteration,
she became more certain of her own wisdom and justice.

One night, after another useless effort to see his wife, Jan went to
Torr's, and found Hol Skager there. Jan was in a reckless mood, and
the thought of a quarrel was pleasant to him. Skager was inclined to
humor him. They had many old grievances to go over, and neither of
them picked their words. At length Jan struck Skager across the mouth,
and Skager instantly drew his knife.

In a moment Torr and others had separated the men. Skager was
persuaded to leave the house, and Jan, partly by force and partly by
entreaty, detained. Skager was to sail at midnight, and Torr was
determined that Jan should not leave the house until that hour was
passed. Long before it, he appeared to have forgotten the quarrel, to
be indeed too intoxicated to remember any thing. Torr was satisfied,
but his daughter Suneva was not.

About ten o'clock, Snorro, sitting in the back door of the store, saw
Suneva coming swiftly towards him. Ere he could speak she said,
"Skager and Jan have quarreled and knives have been drawn. If thou
knowest where Skager is at anchor, run there, for I tell thee, there
was more of murder than liquor in Jan's eyes this night. My father
thought to detain him, but he hath slipped away, and thou may be sure
he has gone to find Skager."

Snorro only said, "Thou art a good woman, Suneva." He thought he knew
Skager's harbor; but when he got there, neither boat nor man was to be
seen. Skager's other ground was two miles in an opposite direction
under the Troll Rock, and not far from Peter Fae's house. Snorro
hastened there at his utmost speed. He was in time to see Skager's
boat, half a mile out at sea, sailing southward. Snorro's mental
processes were slow. He stood still to consider, and as he mused, the
solemn stillness of the lonely place was broken by a low cry of pain.
It was Jan's voice. Among a thousand voices Snorro would have known
it. In a few moments he had found Jan, prone upon the cliff edge
bleeding from a wound in his side.

He was still sensible and he smiled at Snorro, saying slowly, "Thou
must not