"Where is his ship, the _Valkyrie_?
Try if you can find it anywhere--on sea or land! It has gone, and he has
gone with it--like a king and warrior--to glory, joy, and victory!
Glory--joy--victory!--those were his last words!"
Britta retreated, and caught Ulrika by the arm. "Is he mad?" she asked
fearfully.
Valdemar heard her, and rose from his chair, a pained smile on his face.
"I am not mad, Britta," he said gently. "Do not be afraid! If grief for
my master could have turned my brain, I had been mad ere this,--but I
have all my wits about me, and I have told you the truth." He
paused--then added, in a more ordinary tone, "You will need fresh logs
of pine--I will go and bring them in."
And he went out. Britta gazed after him in speechless wonder.
"What does he mean?" she asked.
"What he says," returned Ulrika composedly. "You, like others, must have
known that Olaf Gueldmar's creed was a strange one--his burial has been
strange--that is all!"
And she skillfully turned the conversation, and began to talk of Thelma,
her sorrows and sufferings.
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