"I have had my revenge!" She stopped abruptly,--then went
on--"'Twas a fair bride you chose, Olaf Gueldmar--child of an alien from
these shores,--Thelma, with the treacherous laughter and light of the
South in her eyes and smile! And I, who had known love, made friends
with hate--" She checked herself, and looked full at the _bonde_ with a
fiendish joy sparkling in her eyes. "She whom you wedded--she whom you
loved so well,--how soon she died!"
There was something so suggestive and dreadful in the expression of her
face as she said this, that the stout heart of the old _bonde_, pulsated
more quickly with a sudden vague distrust and dread. She gave him no
time to speak, but laying one yellow, claw-like hand on his arm, and
raising her voice to a sort of yell, exclaimed triumphantly--
"Yes, yes! how soon she died! Bravely, bravely done! And no one ever
guessed the truth--no one ever knew I _killed_ her!"
Gueldmar uttered a sharp cry, and shook himself free from her touch. In
the same instant his hand flew to the hilt of the hunting-knife in his
girdle.
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