“If it had not happened that I had already slain him,” Alwin murmured.  Then he said, more steadily, “This is useless talk, sweetheart.  Tell me the thought which comforted you.  At least it will be a joy to me to cherish in my heart what you have treasured in your brain.”

Helga looked out over the tumbling water with eyes grown wide and thoughtful.

“I will not be so hopeful as to call it a comfort yet,” she said, “too vague is its shape for that.  It is a faint plan which I have built on my knowledge of Gilli’s nature.  As well as I, you know that he cares for nothing but what is gainful for him.  Now if I could manage to make myself so ugly that no chief would care to make offers for me... is it not likely that my father would cease to value me and be even glad to get rid of me, to you?  I would disfigure myself in no such way that the ugliness would be lasting,” she reassured him, hastily.  “But if I should weep my eyes red and my cheeks pale, and cut off my hair...  It would all come right in time; you would not mind the waiting?”

Alwin looked at her with a touch of wonder.

“And you would go ugly for me?” he asked.  “Hide your beauty and become a jest where you have always been a queen, for no other reason than to sink so low that I might reach up and pluck you?  Would you think it worth while to do that for me?”

But his meaning was lost on Helga’s simplicity.  She gathered only that he thought the scheme possible, and hope bloomed like roses in her cheeks.

“Oh, comrade, do you indeed think favorably of the plan?” she whispered, eagerly.  “I had not the heart to hope much from it; everything has failed us so.  If you think it in the least likely to succeed, I will cut off my hair this instant.”

In spite of his misery, Alwin laughed a little.

“Do you then imagine that the gold of your hair and the red of your cheeks is all that makes you fair?” he asked.  “No, dear one, I think it would be easier to make Gilli generous than you ugly.  No man who had eyes to look into your eyes, and ears to hear your voice, could be otherwise than eager to lay down his life to possess you.  Trust to no such rootless trees, comrade.  And do not raise your face toward me like that either; for, in honor, I may not kiss you, and and you are not ugly yet, sweetheart.”

Shouts from those around them recalled the lovers to themselves.  The returning boat was almost upon them; and from among her burly crew the wan faces of several strangers looked up, while a swooning woman was seen to lie in the bow.  Her face, though pinched and pallid, was also fair and lovable, and Helga momentarily forgot disappointment in pity.

“Bring her here and lay her upon my cushions,” she said to the men who carried the woman on board.  Wrapping the limp form in her own cloak, the shield-maiden pulled off such of the sodden garments as she could, poured wine down the stranger’s throat, and strove energetically to chafe some returning warmth into the benumbed limbs.