e you left your bed?

MARGIT.

I am well. Go you and sleep. Stay--tell me, are the guests
all gone?

MAID.

No, not all; some wait till later in the day; ere now they are
sleeping sound.

MARGIT.

And Gudmund Alfson--?

MAID.

He, too, is doubtless asleep. [Points to the right.] 'Tis some
time since he went to his chamber--yonder, across the passage.

MARGIT.

Good; you may go.

[The MAID goes out to the left.
[MARGIT walks slowly across the hall, seats herself by the
table on the right, and gazes out at the open window.

MARGIT.

To-morrow, then, Gudmund will ride away
Out into the world so great and wide.
Alone with my husband here I must stay;
And well do I know what will then betide.
Like the broken branch and the trampled flower
I shall suffer and fade from hour to hour.
[Short pause; she leans back in her chair.

I once heard a tale of a child blind from birth,
Whose childhood was full of joy and mirth;
For the mother, with spells of magic might,
Wove for the dark eyes a world of light.
And the child looked forth with wonder and glee
Upon the valley and hill, upon land and sea.
Then suddenly the witchcraft failed--
The child once more was in darkness pent;
Good-bye to games and merriment;
With longing vain the red cheeks paled.
And its wail of woe, as it pined away,
Was ceaseless, and sadder than words can say.--
Oh! like the child's my eyes were sealed,
To the light and the life of summer blind--
[She springs up.

But now--! And I in this cage confined!
No, now is the worth of my youth revealed!
Three years of life I on him have spent--
My husband--but were I longer content
This hapless, hopeless weird to dree,
Meek as a dove I needs must be.
I am wearied to death of petty brawls;
The stirring life of the great world calls.
I will follow Gudmund with shield and bow,
I will share his joys, I will soothe his woe,
Watch o'er him both by night and day.
All that behold shall envy the life
Of the valiant knight and Margit his wife.--
His wife!
[Wrings her hands.

Oh God, what is this I say!
Forgive me, forgive me, and oh! let me feel
The peace that hath power both to soothe and to heal.
[Walks back and forward, brooding silently.

Signe, my sister--? How hateful 'twere
To steal her glad young life from her!
But who can tell? In very sooth
She may love him but with the light love of youth.
[Again si