ying, "Oh, I so glad to see you! I so glad I save my life!"
and with her dry lips she tells me all the story as I have told it
here. Poor little creature, holding me with those wild, glittering,
dilated eyes, she cannot tell me rapidly enough the whole horrible
tale. Upon her cheek is yet the blood-stain from the blow he struck
her with a chair, and she shows me two more upon her shoulder, and her
torn feet. I go back for arnica with which to bathe them. What a
mockery seems to me the "jocund day" as I emerge into the sunshine,
and looking across the space of blue, sparkling water, see the house
wherein all that horror lies!

Oh, brightly shines the morning sun and glitters on the white sails of
the little vessel that comes dancing back from Portsmouth before the
favoring wind, with the two husbands on board! How glad they are for
the sweet morning and the fair wind that brings them home again! And
Ivan sees in fancy Anethe's face all beautiful with welcoming smiles,
and John knows how happy his good and faithful Maren will be to see
him back again. Alas, how little they dream what lies before them!
From Appledore they are signalled to come ashore, and Ivan and Mathew,
landing, hear a confused rumor of trouble from tongues that hardly can
frame the words that must tell the dreadful truth. Ivan only
understands that something is wrong. His one thought is for Anethe; he
flies to Ingebertsen's cottage, she may be there; he rushes in like a
maniac, crying, "Anethe, Anethe! Where is Anethe?" and broken-hearted
Maren answers her brother, "Anethe is--at home." He does not wait for
another word, but seizes the little boat and lands at the same time
with John on Smutty-Nose; with headlong haste they reach the house,
other men accompanying them; ah, there are blood-stains all about the
snow! Ivan is the first to burst open the door and enter. What words
can tell it! There upon the floor, naked, stiff and stark, is the
woman he idolizes, for whose dear feet he could not make life's ways
smooth and pleasant enough--stone dead! Dead--horribly butchered! her
bright hair stiff with blood, the fair head that had so often rested
on his breast crushed, cloven, mangled with the brutal ax! Their eyes
are blasted by the intolerable sight: both John and Ivan stagger out
and fall, senseless, in the snow. Poor Ivan! his wife a thousand times
adored, the dear girl he had brought from Norway, the good, sweet girl
who loved him so, whom he could