u mayest
depart as easily as a song-bird soaring to the sun! I pass hence
in happiness--if thou dost shed a tear thou wrongest my
memory,--there is naught to weep for. Valdemar will give me the
crimson shroud and ocean grave of my ancestors--but question him
not concerning this fiery pomp of my last voyage--he is but a
serf, and his soul is shaken to its very depths by sorrow. Let
him be--he will have his reward hereafter. And now farewell,
child of my heart--darling of mine age--clear mirror in which my
later life has brightened to content! All partings are brief--we
shall meet again--thou and I and Philip--and all who have loved
or who love each other,--the journey heavenwards may be made by
different roads, but the end--the glory--the immortality is the
same! Peace be upon thee and on thy children and on thy
children's children!"
"Thy father,
OLAF GUeLDMAR."
In spite of the brave old pagan's declaration that tears would wrong his
memory, they dropped bright and fast from his daughter's eyes as she
kissed again and again the words his dying hand had pencilled,--while
Errington knew not which feeling gained the greater mastery over
him,--grief for a good man's loss, or admiration for the strong, heroic
spirit in which that good man had welcomed Death with rejoicing. He
could not help comparing the _bonde's_ departure from this life with
that of Sir Francis Lennox, the man of false fashion, who had let slip
his withered soul with an oath into the land of Nowhere. Presently
Thelma grew calmer, and began to speak in hushed, soft tones--
"Poor Valdemar!" she said meditatively. "His heart must ache very much,
Philip!"
Philip looked up inquiringly.
"You see, my father speaks of the 'crimson shroud,'" she went on. "That
means that he was buried like many of the ancient Norwegian sea
kings;--he was taken from his bed while dying and placed on board his
own ship to breathe his last; then the ship was set on fire and sent out
to sea. I always knew he wished it so. Valdemar must have done it
all--for I,--I saw the last glimpse of the flames on the Fjord the night
I came home! Oh, Philip!" and her beautiful eyes rested tenderly upon
him, "it was all so dreadful--so desolate! I wanted--I prayed to die
also! The world was so empty--it seemed as if there was nothing left!"
Philip, still sitting
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