But Halfred kneeled day and night beside her couch. He held her languid hand; he listened to her faint breathing; he kissed from her lips the small drops of blood which often gathered there.
He had the board which closed the gangway between the decks taken away, and heaven and the stars shone down upon Thora's pillow.
When the day had gone ill, and much blood had flowed, and she fell asleep with the falling night, then he would mount a few steps, draw his hammer from his belt, and threaten the stars with furious words.
"If ye let her die for others' guilt, then woe to you, ye Gods, woe to all who live."
But had the sufferer gained strength, and smiled lovingly and peacefully on him; then this same ferocious man mounted upon the deck, kneeled down, and cried with outstretched arms, and tear-choked voice,
"Praise, praise, to you, ye gracious Gods! I knew it, verily, that ye live and rule justly, and would not let her die for others' guilt."
And if the day wavered between good and evil, between fear and hope, then he paced the narrow chamber with hasty steps and murmured inaudibly,
"Are there Gods! are there Gods! are there gracious Gods?"
And he believed that Thora heard this not, because she slept.
But she lay often awake, with closed eyes, and understood it all, and it troubled her sorely, in waking and dreaming.