othing gained by it. Say what fate for
me, foster-father--the Stone of Doom and the pool where faithless women
lie? Ah, then might Gudruda laugh indeed, and I will not live to hear
that laugh. See," and she gripped the dagger at her side: "along this
bright edge runs the path to peace and freedom, and, if need be, I will
tread it."

"Be silent," said Asmund. "This Gudruda, my daughter, whom thou wouldst
have foully done to death, is thine own sister, and it is she who,
pitying thee, hath pleaded for thy life."

"I will naught of her pity who have no pity," she answered; "and this
I say to thee who art my father: shame be on thee who hast not dared to
own thy child!"

"Hadst thou not been my child, Swanhild, and had I not loved thee
secretly as my child, be sure of this, I had long since driven thee
hence; for my eyes have been open to much that I have not seemed to see.
But at length thy wickedness has overcome my love, and I will see thy
face no more. Listen: none have heard of this shameful deed of thine
save those who saw it, and their tongues are sealed. Now I give thee
choice: wed Atli and go, or stand in the Doom-ring and take thy fate."

"Have I not said, father, while death may be sought otherwise, that I
will never do this last? Nor will I do the first. I am not all of the
tame breed of you Iceland folk--other and quicker blood runs in my
veins; nor will I be sold in marriage to a dotard as a mare is sold at a
market. I have answered."

"Fool! think again, for I go not back upon my word. Wed Atli or die--by
thy own hand, if thou wilt--there I will not gainsay thee; or, if thou
fearest this, then anon in the Doom-ring."

Now Swanhild covered her eyes with her hands and shook the long hair
about her face, and she seemed wondrous fair to Asmund the Priest who
watched. And as she sat thus, it came into her mind that marriage is
not the end of a young maid's life--that old husbands have been known to
die, and that she might rule this Atli and his earldom and become a rich
and honoured woman, setting her sails in such fashion that when the wind
turned it would fill them. Otherwise she must die--ay, die shamed and
leave Gudruda with her love.

Suddenly she slipped from the bed to the floor of the chamber, and,
clasping the knees of Asmund, looked up through the meshes of her hair,
while tears streamed from her beautiful eyes:

"I have sinned," she sobbed--"I have sinned greatly against thee and my
sister. He