"I will not hide from thee, Eric, that thy words are sweet in my ears."

And now Gudruda sobs and the tears fall fast from her dark eyes.

"Nay, weep not. Dost thou, then, love me?"

"Ay, sure enough, Eric."

"Then kiss me before we pass. A man should not die thus, and yet men
have died worse."

And so these two kissed, for the first time, out in the snow on
Coldback, and that first kiss was long and sweet.

Swanhild heard and her blood seethed within her as water seethes in
a boiling spring when the fires wake beneath. She put her hand to her
kirtle and gripped the knife at her side. She half drew it, then drove
it back.

"Cold kills as sure as steel," she said in her heart. "If I slay her I
cannot save myself or him. Let us die in peace, and let the snow cover
up our troubling." And once more she listened.

"Ah, sweet," said Eric, "even in the midst of death there is hope of
life. Swear to me, then, that if by chance we live thou wilt love me
always as thou lovest me now."

"Ay, Eric, I swear that and readily."