alousy arose within her and
rent her. Should this fair rival like to take her joy from her?

"_Grey Wolf, Grey Wolf! what sayest thou?_"

See, now, if Gudruda were gone, if she rolled a corpse into those
boiling waters, Eric might yet be hers; or, if he was not hers, yet
Gudruda's he could never be.

"_Grey Wolf, Grey Wolf! what is thy counsel?_"

Right on the brink of the great gulf sat Gudruda. One stroke and all
would be ended. Eric had gone; there was no eye to see--none save the
Grey Wolf's; there was no tongue to tell the deed that might be done.
Who could call her to account? The Gods! Who were the Gods? What were
the Gods? Were they not dreams? There were no Gods save the Gods of
Evil--the Gods she knew and communed with.

"_Grey Wolf, Grey Wolf! what is thy rede?_"

There sat Gudruda, laughing in the triumph of her joy, with the
sunset-glow shining on her beauty, and there, behind her, Swanhild
crept--crept like a fox upon his sleeping prey.

Now she is there--

"_I hear thee, Grey Wolf! Back to my breast, Grey Wolf!_"

Surely Gudruda heard something? She half turned her head, then again
fell to calling aloud to the waters:

"Eric! beloved Eric!--ah! is there ever a light like the light of thine
eyes--is there ever a joy like the joy of thy kiss?"

Swanhild heard, and her springs of mercy froze. Hate and fury entered
into her. She rose upon her knees and gathered up her strength:

"Seek, then, thy joy in Goldfoss," she cried aloud, and with all her
force she thrust.

Gudruda fell a fathom or more, then, with a cry, she clutched wildly at
a little ledge of rock, and hung there, her feet resting on the shelving
bank. Thirty fathoms down swirled and poured and rolled the waters
of the Golden Falls. A fathom above, red in the red light of evening,
lowered the pitiless face of Swanhild. Gudruda looked beneath her and
saw. Pale with agony she looked up and saw, but she said naught.

"Let go, my rival; let go!" cried Swanhild: "there is none to help thee,
and none to tell thy tale. Let go, I say, and seek thy marriage-bed in
Goldfoss!"

But Gudruda clung on and gazed upwards with white face and piteous eyes.

"What! art thou so fain of a moment's life?" said Swanhild. "Then I will
save thee from thyself, for it must be ill to suffer thus!" and she ran
to seek a rock. Now she finds one and, staggering beneath its weight
to the brink of the gulf, peers over. Still Gudruda hangs. Space yawns
beneath h