nd mellow clearness.
"Hark to the thunder of the galloping hoofs!--see--see the glitter of
the shield and spear! She comes-ah! Thelma! Thelma!" He raised his arms
as though in ecstacy. "Glory!--joy!--Victory!"

And, like a noble tree struck down by lightning, he fell--dead!

Even as he fell, the _Valkyrie_ plunged forward, driven forcibly by a
swooping gust of wind, and scudded out to the Fjord like a wild bird
flying before a tempest,--and, while she thus fled, a sheet of flame
burst through her sides and blazed upwards, mingling a lurid, smoky glow
with the clear crimson radiance of the still brilliant and crown-like
aurora. Following the current, she made swift way across the dark water
in the direction of the island of Seiland, and presently became a
wondrous Ship of Fire! Fire flashed from her masts--fire folded up her
spars and sails in a devouring embrace,--fire, that leaped and played
and sent forth a million showering sparks hissingly into the waves
beneath.

With beating heart and straining eyes, Valdemar Svensen crouched on the
pier-head, watching, in mute agony, the burning vessel. He had fulfilled
his oath!--that strange vow that had so sternly bound him,--a vow that
was the outcome of his peculiar traditions and pagan creed.

Long ago, in the days of his youth,--full of enthusiasm for the worship
of Odin and the past splendors of the race of the great Norse
warriors,--he had chosen to recognize in Olaf Gueldmar a true descendant
of kings, who was by blood and birth, though not in power, himself a
king,--and tracing his legendary history back to old and half-forgotten
sources, he had proved, satisfactorily, to his own mind, that he,
Svensen, must lawfully, and according to old feudal system, be this
king's serf or vassal. And, growing more and more convinced of this in
his dreamy and imaginative mind,--he had sworn a sort of mystic
friendship and allegiance, which Gueldmar had accepted, imposing on him,
however, only one absolute command. This was that he should be given the
"crimson shroud" and sea-tomb of his war-like ancestors,--for the idea
that his body might be touched by strange hands, shut in a close coffin,
and laid in the earth to moulder away to wormy corruption,--had been the
one fantastic dread of the sturdy old pagan's life. And he had taken
advantage of Svensen's devotion and obedience to impress on him the
paramount importance of his solitary behest.

"Let no hypocritical prayers be cha