He went out, bearing the light with him; but Swanhild rose from the ground and sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the darkness and shuddering from time to time.

“I shall soon be made his wife,” she murmured, “who would be but one man’s wife—­and methinks I shall soon be made a widow also.  Thou wilt have me, dotard—­take me and thy fate!  Well, well; better to wed an Earl than to be shamed and stretched across the Doom-stone.  Oh, weak arms that failed me at my need, no more will I put trust in you!  When next I wound, it shall be with the tongue; when next I strive to slay, it shall be by another’s hand.  Curses on thee, thou ill counseller of darkness, who didst betray me at the last!  Is it for this that I worshipped thee and swore the oath?”

The morning came, and at the first light Asmund sought the Earl.  His heart was heavy because of the guile that his tongue must practise, and his face was dark as a winter dawn.

“What news, Asmund?” asked Atli. “Early tidings are bad tidings, so runs the saw, and thy looks give weight to it.”

“Not altogether bad, Earl.  Swanhild gives herself to thee.”

“Of her own will, Asmund?”

“Ay, of her own will.  But I have warned thee of her temper.”

“Her temper!  Little hangs to a maid’s temper.  Once a wife and it will melt in softness like the snow when summer comes.  These are glad tidings, comrade, and methinks I grow young again beneath the breath of them.  Why art thou so glum then?”

“There is something that must yet be told of Swanhild,” said Asmund.  “She is called the Fatherless, but, if thou wilt have the truth, why here it is for thee—­she is my daughter, born out of wedlock, and I know not how that will please thee.”

Atli laughed aloud, and his bright eyes shone in his wrinkled face.  “It pleases me well, Asmund, for then the maid is sprung from a sound stock.  The name of the Priest of Middalhof is famous far south of Iceland; and never that Iceland bred a comelier girl.  Is that all?”

“One more thing, Earl.  This I charge thee:  watch thy wife, and hold her back from witchcraft and from dealings with evil things and trolls of darkness.  She is of Finnish blood and the women of the Finns are much given to such wicked work.”

“I set little store by witchwork, goblins and their kin,” said Atli.  “I doubt me much of their power, and I shall soon wean Swanhild from such ways, if indeed she practise them.”

Then they fell to talking of Swanhild’s dower, and that was not small.  Afterwards Asmund sought Eric and Gudruda, and told them what had come to pass, and they were glad at the news, though they grieved for Atli the Earl.  And when Swanhild met Gudruda, she came to her humbly, and humbly kissed her hand, and with tears craved pardon of her evil doing, saying that she had been mad; nor did Gudruda withhold it, for of all women she was the gentlest and most forgiving.  But to Eric, Swanhild said nothing.