en so! You, Olaf
Gueldmar, have forgotten what I remember,--that once in that yesterday of
youth, you called me fair,--once your lips branded mine! Could I forget
that kiss? Think you a Norse woman, bred in a shadow of the constant
mountains, forgets the first thrill of passion waked in her soul? Light
women of those lands where the sun ever shines on fresh follies, may
count their loves by the score,--but with us of the North, _one_ love
suffices to fill a lifetime. And was not my life filled? Filled to
overflowing with bitterness and misery! For I loved you, proud Olaf!--I
loved you--" The _bonde_ uttered an exclamation of incredulous
astonishment. Lovisa fixed her eyes on him with a dark scorn. "Yes, I
loved you,--scoffer and unbeliever as you were and are!--accursed of God
and man! I loved you in spite of all that was said against you--nay, I
would have forsaken my creed for yours, and condemned my soul to the
everlasting burning for your sake! I loved you as _she_--that pale,
fair, witch-like thing you wedded, could never love--" Her voice died
away in a sort of despairing wail, and she paused.

"By my soul!" said the _bonde_, astounded, and stroking his white beard
in some embarrassment. "I never knew of this! It is true that in the hot
days of youth, mischief is often done unwittingly. But why trouble
yourself with these memories, Lovisa? If it be any comfort,--believe me,
I am sorry harm ever came to you through my thoughtless jesting--"

"It matters not!" and Lovisa regarded him with a strange and awful
smile. "I have had my revenge!" She stopped abruptly,--then went
on--"'Twas a fair bride you chose, Olaf Gueldmar--child of an alien from
these shores,--Thelma, with the treacherous laughter and light of the
South in her eyes and smile! And I, who had known love, made friends
with hate--" She checked herself, and looked full at the _bonde_ with a
fiendish joy sparkling in her eyes. "She whom you wedded--she whom you
loved so well,--how soon she died!"

There was something so suggestive and dreadful in the expression of her
face as she said this, that the stout heart of the old _bonde_, pulsated
more quickly with a sudden vague distrust and dread. She gave him no
time to speak, but laying one yellow, claw-like hand on his arm, and
raising her voice to a sort of yell, exclaimed triumphantly--

"Yes, yes! how soon she died! Bravely, bravely done! And no one ever
guessed the truth--no one ever knew I _killed_ her