CHAPTER VI.

THE HALL OF LIOT.


All through the small hours of the morning Estein sat on the poop
in silence. Helgi, wrapped in his cloak, threw himself on the deck
beside him and fell asleep with a lightened heart, while the long
ship, slipping down the sound with the tide, turned westwards into
the swell of the Atlantic.

Gloom had settled over Estein's mind. The pleasantest memories
were distorted by the ghost of that old blood feud; his murdered
brother called aloud for vengeance; in the wash of the waves and
the creaking of the timbers he heard the hermit recite again the
story of the burning, and through it all a voice cried, "Farewell!
farewell!"

The sun at that season rises early. With it the breeze freshened,
and one by one the sleeping figures in the waist woke, and began
to stir about the ship. Still their leader sat silent.

Helgi at length sat up with a start, and rubbed his eyes. He
looked at Estein, and smiled.

"Very much in love methinks," he said to himself.