past.
You have sure friends there, whatever betide.--
But hope like a wayside flower shrivels up;
Though your husband met me with flagon and cup,
And his doors flung open wide,
Within, your dwelling seems chill and bare;
Dark is the hall; my friends are not there.
'Tis well; I will back to my hills from your halls.

MARGIT. [Beseechingly.]

Oh, hear me!

GUDMUND.

My soul is not base as a thrall's.
Now life to me seems a thing of nought;
Truly I hold it scarce worth a thought.
You have killed all that I hold most dear;
Of my fairest hopes I follow the bier.
Farewell, then, Dame Margit!

MARGIT.

Nay, Gudmund, hear!
By all that is holy--!

GUDMUND.

Live on as before
Live on in honour and joyance--
Never shall Gudmund darken your door,
Never shall cause you 'noyance.

MARGIT.

Enough, enough. Your bitterness
You presently shall rue.
Had I known you outlawed, shelterless,
Hunted the country through--
Trust me, the day that brought you here
Would have seemed the fairest of many a year;
And a feast I had counted it indeed
When you turned to Solhoug for refuge in need.

GUDMUND.

What say you--? How shall I read your mind?

MARGIT. [Holding out her hand to him.]

Read this: that at Solhoug dwell kinsfolk kind.

GUDMUND.

But you said of late--?

MARGIT.

To that pay no heed,
Or hear me, and understand indeed.
For me is life but a long, black night,
Nor sun, nor star for me shines bright.
I have sold my youth and my liberty,
And none from my bargain can set me free.
My heart's content I have bartered for gold,
With gilded chains I have fettered myself;
Trust me, it is but comfort cold
To the sorrowful soul, the pride of pelf.
How blithe was my childhood--how free from care!
Our house was lowly and scant our store;
But treasures of hope in my breast I bore.

GUDMUND. [Whose eyes have been fixed upon her.]

E'en then you were growing to beauty rare.

MARGIT.

Mayhap; but the praises showered on me
Caused the wreck of my happiness--that I now see.
To far-off lands away you sailed;
But deep in my heart was graven each song
You had ever sung; and their glamour was strong;
With a mist of dreams my brow they veiled.
In them all the joys you had dwelt upon
That can find a home in the beating breast;
You had sung so oft of the lordly life
'Mid knights and ladies. And lo! anon
Came wooers a many from east