" There he was, beyond a
doubt, lying flat on his back with his eyes closed. Asleep or dead? He
might have been the latter,--his thin face was so pale and drawn,--his
lips were so set and colorless. Errington, astonished to see him there,
called softly--
"Sigurd! Sigurd!" There was no answer; Sigurd's form seemed
inanimate--his eyes remained fast shut.
"Is he in a trance?" thought Sir Philip wonderingly; "or has he fainted
from some physical exhaustion?"
He called again, but again received no reply. He now observed in the
stem of the boat a large bunch of pansies, dark as velvet, and evidently
freshly gathered,--proving that Sigurd had been wandering in the deep
valleys and on the sloping sides of the hills, where these flowers may
be frequently found in Norway during the summer. He began to feel rather
uncomfortable, as he watched that straight stiff figure in the boat, and
was just about to swing down the companion-ladder for the purpose of
closer inspection, when a glorious burst of light streamed radiantly
over the Fjord,--the sun conquered the masses of dark cloud that had
striven to conceal his beauty, and now,--like a warrior clad in golden
armor, surmounted and trod down his enemies, shining forth in all his
splendor.
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