ace in Vala's pillow;
and David, full of anger, said:

"I will take you from this house, mistress. You were not asked to
come here, and you cannot stay here."

"I will stay until I have said what you shall listen to. The child
of this woman has been taken for your father's sin. The mother will
go next. Then _you_ will bite the last morsel of Kol's curse. I am
living only to see this."

"I fear not the curse of any man," said David, in a passion. "There
is no power in any mortal's curse that prayer cannot wither. Keep it
to yourself--you, who believe in it. As for me--"

"As for you, I will give you some advice. When the new minister is
placed, go and tell him what Liot Borson told you at his death-hour.
For I know well he did not die without boasting of his revenge on
Bele Trenby. Death couldn't shut Liot's mouth till the words were
out of it. Make the confession your father ought to have made, and
let me hear it. I have said it, and fools have laughed at me, and
wise men have hid the words in their hearts; and I will not die
till my words are made true. And if you will not make them true,
then the dead will have their satisfaction, and love will go to
the grave and not to the bridal. Now, then, do what is before you.
I have set you your task."

She spoke with a rapid passion that would not be interrupted, and
then, still muttering threats and accusations, tottered out of the
cot on her servant's arm. David was speechless. The truth bound him.
What powers of divination this evil woman had, he knew not, but she
at least had driven home the unacknowledged fear in his heart. He sat
down by Nanna and tried to comfort her, but she could not listen to
him. "Leave me alone to-day," she pleaded. "I have had all I can
bear."

So he went back to Lerwick, feeling with every step he took that
the task Matilda had set him would have to be accomplished. The
humiliation would indeed be great, but if by confession he could ward
off punishment from Nanna he must accept the alternative. Himself he
took not into consideration. No threat and no fear of personal
suffering could have forced him to speak; but if, peradventure,
silence was sin, and sin brought sorrow, then his duty to others
demanded from him the long-delayed acknowledgment. However, he was
not yet certain of the right, and the new minister had not yet
come, and there is always some satisfaction in putting off what
is dubious and questionable.

The new minister was