“‘We must bury him,’ he faltered.

“‘Yea,’ said I, ’but in a hero’s grave, and after the custom of our fathers.’

“There was a murmur of applause.  Algar could not refuse.

“They brought the choicest of the boats, they made the sails bright and gay, they put in it the dead man’s arms, and food to accompany him to the land of spirits.  Then they bound him before the mast, his face turned seaward.  At sundown they towed the boat to deep water, so pierced her that she might sink slowly under the waves, and then they left the hero to his rest.  I had gone out with them:  alone I said to him my last farewell.  But they did not know my secret.  They did not guess that I had ascertained by my art that life was yet in him, that I had poured between his lips subtle drops which would maintain animation for many days and nights, during which consciousness might be restored; nor did they imagine that when I kneeled before him I had stopped the leak by which the water was to flow into the doomed boat.  Algar was now the deceived; it was a living man, not a corpse, who started on that voyage.  Haco lives still, though where my art cannot tell.  I thought that Marie Torode knew, and sought her on her death-bed to question her, but either she could not or she would not tell.”  Hilda’s mind was in such confusion that she could not speak.  The old woman continued.  “Algar lived on—­yes, lived that he might suffer all the evils with which my curse loaded him, and died that he might be hurled into the abyss where traitors and cravens writhe and groan.  Enough of him!

“When I returned to my tower, a figure was crouching before the hearth:  it was Tita, and you were in her arms.  The faithful creature, whom your father had chosen from a band of captives to be your nurse, had, unperceived, saved your life from the flames.  Thenceforward you were my care.  I took your mother’s place as best I could.  Others knew not your parentage, nor did they dare to question me.  None suspected the truth.”

When she reached this point she bent over the kneeling girl and gave her a kiss, tender as a mother’s if not a mother’s kiss; her fingers caressed the head bowed upon her knees; for a time the silence was only broken by Hilda’s sobs.  She then spoke again, this time quickly, sternly, as if to prevent interruption.

“I cannot leave thee alone, and I will not!  Listen, child, and be silent!  What I now tell thee is beyond thy young understanding:  thou hast but to shape thy will to my bidding:  it is for me to launch thy vessel on its voyage, the Gods will help thy riper judgment to steer its course!  The time has come when thou must wed!  I have chosen for thee a suitor, the chief to whom all thy countrymen bend the knee.  Garthmund claims thee as his bride; ere eight days expire the marriage feast will be held.  He is of noble birth, there is none nobler; he is young and strong, and should be favoured by the Gods if he prove worthy of them.  He is a fitting bridegroom for Haco’s daughter.”