a
wilderness--but as the desolate winter snow, shall be the record of her
days!"

Now Gudruda wept aloud. "What is done is done," she cried; "the
bridegroom sits within the hall--the bride awaits him in the bower. What
is done is done--I may hope no more to be saved from Ospakar."

"What is done is done, yet it can be brought to nothing; but soon that
shall be done which may never be undone! Gudruda, fare thee well!
Never shall I listen to thy voice again. I hold thee shameless, thou
unfaithful woman, who in thy foolish jealousy art ready to sell thyself
to the arms of one thou hatest! Ho! carles; come hither. Bear me hence!"

Now the men came in and took up Saevuna's chair. Gudruda watched them
bear her forth. Then suddenly she sprang from her seat and ran after her
into the hall, weeping bitterly.

Now as Saevuna, Eric's mother, was carried out she was met by Ospakar
and Bjoern.

"Stay," said Bjoern. "What does this carline here?--and why weeps
Gudruda, my sister?"

The men halted. "Who calls me 'carline'?" said Saevuna. "Is the voice I
hear the voice of Bjoern, Asmund's son?"

"It is my voice, truly," said Bjoern, "and I would know this--and this
would Ospakar, who stands at my side, know also--why thou comest here,
carline? and why Gudruda weeps?"

"Gudruda weeps because she has good cause to weep, Bjoern. She weeps
because she has betrayed her love, Eric Brighteyes, my son, and is about
to be sold in marriage--to be sold to thee, Ospakar Blacktooth, like a
heifer at a fair."

Then Bjoern grew angry and cursed Saevuna, nor did Ospakar spare to add
his ill words. But the old dame sat in her chair, listening silently
till all their curses were spent.

"Ye are evil, the twain of you," she said, "and ye have told lies of
Eric, my son; and ye have taken his bride for lust and greed, playing on
the jealous folly of a maid like harpers on a harp. Now I tell you
this, Bjoern and Ospakar! My blind eyes are opened and I see this hall
of Middalhof, and lo! it is but a gore of blood! Blood flows upon
the board--blood streams along the floor, and ye--ye twain!--lie
dead thereon, and about your shapes are shrouds, and on her feet are
Hell-shoon! Eric comes and Whitefire is aloft, and no more shall ye
stand before him whom ye have slandered than stands the birch before the
lightning stroke! Eric comes! I see his angry eyes--I see his helm flash
in the door-place! Red was that marriage-feast at which sat Unna, my
kin