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. . restore to me the erring creature
who should be the prop of my defenceless age, had not your pagan spells
alienated her from me,--release her,--and bid her return with me to my
desolate hearth and home. This done,--I will stay the tempest that
threatens your habitation--I will hold back the dark cloud of
destruction--I will avert the wrath of the Lord,--yes! for the sake of
the past--for the sake of the past!"
These last words she muttered in a low tone, more to herself than to
Gueldmar; and, having spoken, she averted her eyes from the company, drew
her shawl closely about her, and waited for an answer.
"By all the gods of my fathers!" shouted the _bonde_ in a towering
passion. "This passes my utmost endurance! Have I not told thee again
and again, thou silly soul! . . . that thy grandchild is no slave? She
is free--free to return to thee an' she will; free also to stay with us,
where she has found a happier home than thy miserable hut at Talvig.
Britta!" and he thumped his fist on the table.


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