,--and a moaning whisper coming from the adjacent hills
gave warning of another storm.

Valdemar hurriedly retraced his steps back to the house,--his work with
the _Valkyrie_ had occupied him more than an hour--the _bonde_, his
friend and master, might have died during his absence! There was a cold
sickness at his heart--his feet seemed heavy as lead, and scarcely able
to carry him along quickly enough--to his credulous and visionary mind,
the hovering shadow of death seemed everywhere,--in every crackling twig
he brushed against,--in every sough of the wakening gale that rustled
among the bare pines. To his intense relief he found Gueldmar lying
calmly back among his pillows,--his eyes well open and clear, and an
expression of perfect peace upon his features. He smiled as he saw his
servant enter.

"All is in readiness?" he asked.

Valdemar bent his head in silent assent.

The _bonde's_ face lightened with extraordinary rapture.

"I thank thee, old friend!" he said in low but glad accents. "Thou
knowest I could not be at peace in any other grave. I have suffered in
thine absence,--the sufferings of the body that, being yet strong in
spite of age, is reluctant to take leave of life. But it is past! I am
as one numbed with everlasting frost,--and now I feel no pain. And my
mind is like a bird that poises for a while over past and present, ere
soaring into the far future. There are things I must yet say to thee,
Valdemar,--give me thy close hearing, for my voice is weak."

Svensen drew closer, and stood in the humble attitude of one who waits a
command from some supreme chief.

"This letter," went on the old man, giving him a folded paper, "is to
the child of my heart, my Thelma. Send it to her--when--I am gone. It
will not grieve her, I hope--for, as far as I could find words, I have
expressed therein nothing but joy--the joy of a prisoner set free. Tell
her, that with all the strength of my perishing body and escaping soul,
I blessed her! . . . her and the husband in whose arms she rests in
safety." He raised his trembling hands solemnly--"The gods of my fathers
and their attendant spirits have her young life in their glorious
keeping!--the joy of love and purity and peace be on her innocent head
for ever!"

He paused,--the wind wailed mournfully round the house and shook the
lattice with a sort of stealthy clatter, like a forlorn wanderer
striving to creep in to warmth and shelter.

"Here, Valdemar," continu