ny lives shall pay forfeit
for thy sin, Eric."

Eric awoke, thinking that this was indeed an evil dream which he had
dreamed. He woke, and lo! by him was Swanhild, Atli's wife. He looked
upon her beauty, and fear and shame crept into his heart, for now he
knew that it was no dream, but he was lost indeed. He looked again at
Swanhild, and hatred and loathing of her shook him. She had overcome
him by her arts; that cup was drugged which he had drunk, and he was mad
with grief. Yes, she had played upon his woe like a harper on a harp,
and now he was ashamed--now he had betrayed his friend who loved him!
Had Whitefire been to his hand at that moment, Eric had surely slain
himself. But the great sword was not there, for it hung in Swanhild's
bower. Eric groaned aloud, and Swanhild turned at the sound. But he
sprang away and stood over her, cursing her.

"Thou witch!" he cried, "what hast thou done? What didst thou mix in
that cup yestre'en? Thou hast brought me to this that I have betrayed
Atli, my friend--Atli, thy lord, who left thee in my keeping!"

He seemed so terrible in his woe and rage that Swanhild shrank from him,
and, throwing her hair about her face, peeped at him through its meshes
as once she had peeped at Asmund.

"It is like a man," she said, gathering up her courage and her wit;
"'tis like a man, having won my love, now to turn upon me and upbraid
me. Fie upon thee, Eric! thou hast dealt ill with me to bring me to
this."

Now Eric ceased his raving, and spoke more calmly.

"Well thou knowest the truth, Swanhild," he said.

"Hearken, Eric," she answered. "Let this be secret between us. Atli is
old, and methinks that not for long shall he bide here in Straumey.
Soon he will die; it is upon my mind that he soon will die, and, being
childless, his lands and goods pass to me. Then, Eric, thou shalt sit in
Atli's hall, and in all honour shall Atli's wife become thy bride."

Eric listened coldly. "I can well believe," he said, "that thou hast it
in mind to slay thy lord, for all evil is in thy heart, Swanhild. Now
know this: that if in honour or dishonour my lips touch that fair face
of thine again, may the limbs rot from thy trunk, and may I lie a log
for ever in the halls of Hela! If ever my eyes of their own will look
again upon thy beauty, may I go blind and beg my meat from homestead
to homestead! If ever my tongue whisper word of love into thy ears, may
dumbness seize it, and may it wither to the roo