Lord
makes place for murderers in His heaven? If so, 'tis well I am not bound
there! Only the just can tread the pathway to Valhalla,--'tis a better
creed!"

Ulrika looked at his superb, erect figure and lofty head, and a
strangely anxious expression flitted across her dull countenance.

"Nay, _bonde_, we do not believe that the Lord accepteth murderers,
without they repent themselves of their backslidings,--but if with
penitence they turn to Him even at the eleventh hour, haply they may be
numbered among the elect."

Gueldmar's eyes flashed. "I know not thy creed, woman, nor care to learn
it! But, all the same, thou art deceived in thy vain imaginings. The
Eternal Justice cannot err--call that justice Christ or Odin as thou
wilt. I tell you, the soul of the innocent bird that perishes in the
drifting snow is near and dear to its Creator--but the tainted soul that
had yonder vile body for its tenement, was but a flame of the evil one,
and accursed from the beginning,--it must return to him from whom it
came. A heaven for such as she? Nay--rather the lowest circle of the
furthest and fiercest everlasting fires--and thither do I commend her!
Farewell!"

Rapidly muffling himself up in his wraps, he strode out of the house. He
sprang into his sledge, throwing a generous gratuity to the small
Laplander who had taken charge of it, and who now ventured to inquire--

"Has the good Lovisa left us?"

Gueldmar burst into a hard laugh. "_Good_! By my soul! The folks of
Talvig take up murderers for saints and criminals for guides! 'Tis a
wild world! Yes--she has gone--where all such blessed ones
go--to--heaven!" He shook his clenched fist in the air--then hastily
gathering up the reins, prepared to start.

The Lapp, after the manner of his race, was easily frightened, and
cowered back, terrified at the _bonde's_ menacing gesture and fierce
tone,--but quickly bethinking himself of the liberal fee he clutched in
his palm, he volunteered a warning to this kingly old man with the
streaming white hair and beard, and his keen eyes that were already
fixed on the dark sweep of the rough, uneven road winding towards the
Altenfjord.

"There is a storm coming, Jarl Gueldmar!" he stammered.

Gueldmar turned his head. "Why call me Jarl?" he demanded half angrily.
"'Tis a name I wear not."

He touched the reindeer lightly with his long whip--the sensitive beast
started and sprang forward.

Once more the Lapp exclaimed, with increa