"You came to warn me, Olaf, and I knew you not!" he cried. "I know
you now--too late!"

He paced the turf with hurried steps. The sacred duty of revenge
called him with a vehemence we cannot now realize. He had sworn to
let slip no chance of taking vengeance on the burners of his
brother. Often he had sought news of them, and often renewed his
resolution; and now that he had found his foe, was he to idly
suffer him to escape?

Yet he had been this man's guest; he had eaten of his bread, and
slept in his dwelling. And his hands were tied by a stronger
chain. "Osla, Osla," he cried, "for your sake I am faithless to my
vows, and forgetful of my duty to my kindred!"

Then the memory of Thord the Tall, telling of the burning, rose
fresh and strong, and again his hand sought his side, and his
breath came fast, till the vision of Osla swept aside all other
thoughts.

The time went by until the hour was hard on midnight. Gradually
his mind grew more composed.

"I am in the hands of destiny," he said to himself. "Let fate do
with me what it will."

All the northern sky was still red with the afterglow of sunset,
creeping slowly eastwards against the dawn; land and sea lay clear
and yet dim, for the light was ghostly as a phosphorescent
chamber; the tide was slack, and lapped softly on the rocks; and