s as he departed.

MARGIT.

[Absently.] Aye, so it seemed.

BENGT.

Knut Gesling is an ill man to fall out with. And when I bethink
me, we gave him over many hard words. But come, let us not brood
over that. To-day we must be merry, Margit!--as I trow we have
both good reason to be.

MARGIT.

[With a weary smile.] Aye, surely, surely.

BENGT.

Tis true I was no mere stripling when I courted you. But well
I wot I was the richest man for many and many a mile. You were a
fair maiden, and nobly born; but your dowry would have tempted
no wooer.

MARGIT.

[To herself.] Yet was I then so rich.

BENGT.

What said you, my wife?

MARGIT.

Oh, nothing, nothing. [Crosses to the right.] I will deck
me with pearls and rings. Is not to-night a time of rejoicing
for me?

BENGT.

I am fain to hear you say it. Let me see that you deck you
in your best attire, that our guests may say: Happy she who mated
with Bengt Gauteson.--But now must I to the larder; there are
many things to-day that must not be over-looked.

[He goes out to the left.

MARGIT. [Sinks down on a chair by the table on the right.]

'Twas well he departed. While here he remains
Meseems the blood freezes within my veins;
Meseems that a crushing mighty and cold
My heart in its clutches doth still enfold.
[With tears she cannot repress.

He is my husband! I am his wife!
How long, how long lasts a woman's life?
Sixty years, mayhap--God pity me
Who am not yet full twenty-three!
[More calmly after a short silence.

Hard, so long in a gilded cage to pine;
Hard a hopeless prisoner's lot--and mine.
[Absently fingering the ornaments on the table, and beginning
to put them on.

With rings, and with jewels, and all of my best
By his order myself I am decking--
But oh, if to-day were my burial-feast,
'Twere little that I'd be recking.
[Breaking off.

But if thus I brood I must needs despair;
I know a song that can lighten care.
[She sings.

The Hill-King to the sea did ride;
--Oh, sad are my days and dreary--
To woo a maiden to be his bride.
--I am waiting for thee, I am weary.--

The Hill-King rode to Sir Hakon's hold;
--Oh, sad are my days and dreary--
Little Kirsten sat combing her locks of gold.
--I am waiting for thee, I am weary.--

The Hill-King wedded the maiden fair;
--Oh, sad are my days and dreary--
A silvern girdle she ever