Year: 1874

ceased weeping, and returned to her for
mer mood.


"Ah, l knew very well you didn'
love me-" she heard next, and became il
moment the most humble and peniten
of creatures.


Twice she tried to answer, but, instead
she flung herself down upon the heather
and hid her face in her hands.


BotOlf came forward and stood ovel
her.


She knew he was there, and she waited
for him to speak, and tried to prepare
herself for whatever he might say; but
not word came, and she grew yet more
disturbed, and felt obliged to look up
She sprang to her feet instantly; Botolf'
long, weather-beaten face seemed to have
become sunkon and hollow, his deeply-set
eyes staringly prominent, and his Who'll,
figure monstr0us; and it stood over hel
with some strange influence that sud
denly made her see him once more upon
the ship just as she saw him on the night
of the wreck; but now his strength was
boundless, and it was all turned against
her.


"You have been untruthful with me,
Aasta."


She turned away, but he followed her,
and continued:


"And you have made me untruthful,
too; there hasn't been perfect truthful
ness between us single day ever since
we have been together"


He stood so near that she coul feel his
hot breath; he looked straight into her
eyes till she felt quite giddy; she knew
not what he might the next moment say
or do; and so she closed her eyes. She
stood as if she must either fall or rush
away; the crisis was coming.


In its prelude of deep silence, Botoll
himself became afraid. Still, once more
he began in his former strain:


"Make everything clear; make an end
of all this miserable trickery and conceal.
ment-dO it here-now."


eyes," she said, but quite uncons
ciously-"so I say-do it here-nowp


He gave loud cry, for she rushed
past him, and flung herself over the steep.
He caught a glimpse of her golden hair,
her uplifted hands, and the kerchief
which spread out, slipped of, and fOated
slowly down after her by itself He
heard no shrek, and he heard no fall
into the water below; for it was very far
down. Indeed, he was not listening, for
he had sunk to the earth.


Out from the sea she had come to him
that night at first; into the sea she had
now passed away again, and with her the
story of her life. In the midnight dark
ness of that silent deep lay all that was
dear to him; should he not follow? He
had come to that place with a firm de-
thing that tormented him. This was not
the end, and now it could never come
the trouble was, indeed, only now in
reality beginning. Aasta's deed cried
out that he had made terrible mistake,
and had killed her. Even if his misery
should become ten times greater, he must
live on to find out how all had happened.
She, who was almost the only one saved
on that awful night, had been saved only
to be killed by him who had saved her.
He, who had gone voyaging and traffick-
ing about as if the whole world were
nothing but sea and mart, had all at once
become the victim of, love that had
killed the woman of his choice, and must
HOW MIL ulIIl. w dS IlC u Dau liC
had never heard any one say 50, neither
had he ever felt it himself. But what if,
after all, it were so? He rose not, how
ever, to cast himself over the steep, but
to return to the valley; no man kills
himself Just when he has found great
enigma which he wishes to solve.


But the enigma of Aasta's life never
could be solved now. She had lived in
America ever since she had been grown
up, and she was coming from there when
the ships ran into each other. In what
part of America should his quest begin
From what part of Norway she had at
first come he did not positively know, and
he was uncertain even whether her fam
lily name had not been changed since
then. And that foreign skipper? Who
could he be? Did he know Aasta, or
was it only she who knew something of
him? To question thus was like ques-
ticning the very sea, and to journey forth
to investigate like plunging into its
depths.


Surely he had made terrible mistake.
A woman penitent on account Of some
guilty thing would have found relief in
confessing it to her husband, and one
still impenitent would have found refuge
in some evasion or other. But Aasta
had neither confessed anything, nor had
recourse to any evasion, but had sought
refuge in death when he had so tor
mented her. Such conduct showed no
sign of guilt. But why not? Some folks
have great dread of confessing anything.
Aasta, however, had no such dread ;
for she had already confessed that there
was something about her life which she
could never tell him. Perhaps, then,
the greatness OF her guilt made confession
impossible. But she could not have had
the burden of any great guilt upon her,
for she was often joyous, nay, even full
of fun. She was hasty and impetuous,
it is true; but she was also very full OF
tender feeling and kindness. Perhaps
the gull was some other persons and not
hers at all2 Why, then, had she never
told him SO? If she had only done this,
all would have come right. But suppos-
ing there was no guilt, either on her side
or on that of anybody else, how then
But she herself had said there was some
thing she could never tell him. And
then, how about that foreign skipper she
was 80 afraid of? How was il? In the
name of goodness how was it? All, had
she been still alive, he would still have
tormented her. This thought moved
him deeply, and made him reproach and
despise himself beyond measure.


Still he began again: Perhaps she was
not 80 guilty rs she herself believed; OF
perhaps not 30 guilty as others might
have thought. How often did we dc
wrong quite innocently, and only through
ignorance, though so few could under.
stand that Thus Aasta had thought
that he, who was always full of sus-
picion, would not understand it. Out Of
one clear, simple answer, he would have
found matter for q hundred suspicious
questions, and 20 she had chosen TO con
fide herself TO death rather than to him
Why could he never leave her in peace
She had fed from the things of her past
life, and sought refuge with him; and
then he, forsooth, must constantly drae
them forward and fling them in her face
She was truly attached To him, AND