n and his
friends--"unwelcome at all times,--but most unwelcome at the hour of
feasting ad folly,--for who can endure to receive a message from the
Lord when the mouth is full of savory morsels, and the brain reels with
the wicked wine? Yet I have come in spite of your iniquities. Olaf
Gueldmar,--strong in the strength of the Lord, I dare to set foot upon
your accursed threshold, and once more make my just demand. Give me back
the child of my dead daughter! . . . restore to me the erring creature
who should be the prop of my defenceless age, had not your pagan spells
alienated her from me,--release her,--and bid her return with me to my
desolate hearth and home. This done,--I will stay the tempest that
threatens your habitation--I will hold back the dark cloud of
destruction--I will avert the wrath of the Lord,--yes! for the sake of
the past--for the sake of the past!"

These last words she muttered in a low tone, more to herself than to
Gueldmar; and, having spoken, she averted her eyes from the company, drew
her shawl closely about her, and waited for an answer.

"By all the gods of my fathers!" shouted the _bonde_ in a towering
passion. "This passes my utmost endurance! Have I not told thee again
and again, thou silly soul! . . . that thy grandchild is no slave? She
is free--free to return to thee an' she will; free also to stay with us,
where she has found a happier home than thy miserable hut at Talvig.
Britta!" and he thumped his fist on the table. "Look up, child! Speak
for thyself! Thou hast a spirit of thine own. Here is thy one earthly
relation. Wilt go with her? Neither thy mistress nor I will stand in the
way of thy pleasure."

Thus adjured Britta looked up so suddenly that Duprez,--who had rather
enjoyed the feel of her little nestling head hidden upon his arm,--was
quite startled, and he was still more so at the utter defiance that
flashed into the small maiden's round, rosy face.

"Go with _you_!" she cried shrilly, addressing the old woman, who
remained standing in the same attitude, with an air of perfect
composure. "Do you think I have forgotten how you treated my mother, or
how you used to beat me and starve me? You wicked old woman! How dare
you come here? I'm ashamed of you! You frightened my mother to
death--you know you did! . . . and now you want to do the same to me!
But you won't--I can tell you! I'm old enough to do as I like, and I'd
rather die than live with you!"

Then, overcome by ex