d for traitors. You may
thank Heaven your wicked plans for this night have been foiled, and
that, traitors though you be, you do not stand here as murderers also.
Let those who refuse to return to their allegiance stand forward."

Not a man moved.

"Then," said Sigurd, "I demand a pledge of your loyalty."

"We will prove it with our lives!" cried the men, conscience-struck, and
meaning what they said.

"All I ask," said Sigurd, "is, that not a man here breathes a word of
this night's doing. Besides yourselves, one man only knows of my being
at Niflheim, and he has vowed secrecy. Do you do the same?"

The soldiers eagerly gave the required pledge.

"I leave you now," said Sigurd, "at the post of duty. Let him who would
serve me, serve my king."

"We will! we will!" cried the men.

Sigurd held up his hand.

"It is enough," said he; "I am content. And you, friend," said he to
the late prisoner, "will you accompany me home?"

The man joyfully consented, and that same night those two departed to
the sea, and before morning were darting over the waves towards the
Castle of the North-West Wind.

Sigurd's secret was safely kept. Ulf, to the day of his death, knew
nothing of his brother's journey to Niflheim; nor could he tell the
reason why the loyalty of his soldiers revived from that time forward.
He died in battle not long after, yet he lived long enough to repent of
his harshness towards his brother, and to desire to see him again.
Messengers from him were on their way to the Tower of the North-West
Wind at the time when he fell on the field of Brulform. Sigurd's first
act after becoming king was to erect a monument on the spot where Ulf
fell, with this simple inscription, which may be read to this day, "To
my Brother."

CHAPTER SIX.

Sub-Chapter I.

MY FIRST TRAGEDY.

FOREWORD.

I have admired tragedy from my earliest days. I believe I must have
acted in it in the nursery--at least the scenes I have in my mind
appeared to me to be tragic at the time, although it was not of my own
will that I participated in them. The occasions, for instance, when I
was stood in the corner for misconduct at table, or thrashed by my big
brother for my "cheek," or dosed with castor oil by the doctor for
"mulligrubs," all stand out in my memory as tragic, and no doubt
prepared me to appreciate tragedy later on as a fine art.

As soon as I went to school I found still more extended opportunities
for studying