“’Tis true,” declared the Danish girl, after a short interval of silence, during which time she seemed to be thinking. “We are like the swallow. Here for such a brief time and then out into the shadow of death. Whither? We know not; unless, indeed, it be true that Hela, the death goddess, awaits us in Niflheim. Oh, would that I were not woman! Would that I were warrior; that Odin, Alfadur, might send the Valkyrie to wing me to Valhalla, where all is bright and beautiful. I wish not to go to Hela!” “Thou shalt not.” Siegbert spoke soothingly and with so much of positiveness that Hilda forgot her tears and raised her head inquiringly. “What meanest thou, Siegbert?” “Thou shalt not go to that dread abode, for none such exists,” said the young man. “Let me tell thee, Hilda, of the beautiful heaven of the Christian faith.” With solemn sweetness he told of the heavenly city, where there is no night, where pain nor death enters not, and of the gentle Christ so pitiful of weakness and suffering. Egwina listened entranced. The young man’s earnestness impressed her, and she felt her own imperfections as she had never done before. “I am tired,” said Hilda, at length. “Take me home, Siegbert, and there thou shalt tell me more of this Christ of thine. He is like Baldur in his beauty and goodness. If thy heaven is as thou sayest, then methinks I wish it, for one need not be warrior to enter it.” Lifting her up carefully in his arms, Siegbert turned to go, but Hilda stopped him. “Come to me to-morrow, maiden,” said she to Egwina. “Wilt thou not? Siegbert shall come to fetch thee if thou wilt. I would hear thee sing again. Wondrous skill hadst thou with the harp.” “I have none now,” responded Egwina, slowly, “but I will come an’ thou wishest it.” “I do wish it. I have harp of mine own which thou canst use. Then I will send Siegbert for thee.” She sank back in the strong arms of the Saxon, who strode off as if the burden he bore were naught for his strength. Egwina stood for a long time on the knoll where they had left her. “Why doth my heart beat at sound of his voice or look of his eye?” she mused. “Something doth draw me to him. I would, oh, I would that he were sibbe to me. Never before have I so longed for one to be near to me as I do him. Oh, would that he were of my kith! But God doeth all things well, and it may be that I am bereft of kin that I may the more readily give myself to the service of Heaven.” With an involuntary sigh, she turned her steps in the direction of the abode of Anlaf. CHAPTER XXVI—THE ECLIPSE Egwina awaited the coming of the next day with impatience. She could not define the feeling that possessed her. She would not go to the forest lest Siegbert might come, and she sought to pass the time until his arrival as best she might. It was not until the sun had risen high in the heavens that the young man came. “Fair day to thee, maiden,” he said in his grave voice. “Wilt thou come now to Hilda, daughter of Guthrum?”