There is little worth in what I
leave thee--the soil--is hard and ungrateful--the harvest uncertain, and
the cattle few. Even the reindeer--didst thou say they were injured by
their fall last night?--I--I forget, . . ."
"No harm has come to them," said Svensen hastily, seeing that the very
effort of thinking was becoming too much for the old man. "They are safe
and unhurt. Trouble not about these things!"
A strange, unearthly radiance transfigured Gueldmar's visage.
"Trouble is departing swiftly from me," he murmured.
"Trouble and I shall know each other no more!" His voice died away
inarticulately, and he was silent a little space. Suddenly, and with a
rush of vigor--that seemed superhuman, he raised himself nearly erect,
and pointed outwards with a commanding gesture.
"Bear me hence!" he cried in ringing tones. "Hence to the mountains and
the sea!"
With a sort of mechanical, swift obedience, Valdemar threw open the
door--the wind rushed coldly into the house, bringing with it large
feathery flakes of snow.
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