"So," continued Liot, "the men made for the crags; but Gisli fought like a hero, and in that bout four men were slain. And when they were least aware Gisli leaped on a crag, that stands alone there and is called Oneman's Crag, and there he turned at bay and called out to Eyjolf, 'I wish to make those three hundred in silver, which thou hast taken as the price of my head, as dear bought as I can; and before we part thou wouldst give other three hundred in silver that we had never met; for thou wilt only take disgrace for loss of life.' Then their onslaught was harder and hotter, and they gave Gisli many spear-thrusts; but he fought on wondrously, and there was not one of them without a wound who came nigh him. At last, full of great hurts, Gisli bade them wait awhile and they should have the end they wanted; for he would have time to sing this last song to his faithful Auda: 'Wife, so fair, so never-failing, So truly loved, so sorely cross'd, Thou wilt often miss me, wailing; Thou wilt weep thy hero lost. But my heart is stout as ever; Swords may bite, I feel no smart; Father! better heirloom never Owned thy son than fearless heart.' And with these words he rushed down from the crag and clove Thord--who was Eyjolf's kinsman--to the very belt. There Gisli lost his life with many great and sore wounds. He never turned his heel, and none of them saw that his strokes were lighter, the last than the first. They buried him by the sea, and at his grave the sixth man breathed his last; and on the same night the seventh man breathed his last; and an eighth lay bedridden for twelve months and died. And though the rest were healed, they got nothing but shame for their pains. Thus Gisli came to his grave; and it has always been said, by one and all, that there never was a more famous defense made by one man in any time, of which the truth is known; but he was not lucky in anything." "I will doubt that," said Gust Havard. "He had Auda to wife, and never was there a woman more beautiful and loving and faithful. He had love-luck, if he had no other luck. God give us all such wives as Auda!" "Well, then," answered Matilda, "a man's fate is his wife, and she is of his own choosing; and, what is more, a good husband makes a good wife." Then, suddenly stopping, she listened a moment and added: "The minister is come, and we shall hear from him still better words. But sit down, Liot; you have passed the hour well, as you always do."