"To be sure, since you said what you did of Nipen," replied Erica bitterly.
Oddo made no answer; but he did what he could. Erica had to tell him not to wear himself out too quickly, as there was no saying now how long they should be on the water.
How long they had been on the water, how far they had deviated from their right course, they could not at all tell, when, at last more by accident than skill, they touched the shore near home, and heard friendly voices, and saw the light of torches-through the thick air. The fog had wrapped them round so that they could not even see the water, or each other. They had rowed mechanically, sometimes touching the rock, sometimes grazing upon the sand, but never knowing where they were till the ringing of a bell, which they recognised as the farm bell, roused hope in their hearts, and strengthened them to throw off the fatal drowsiness caused by cold and fatigue. They made towards the bell; and then heard Peder's shouts, and next saw the dull light of two torches which looked as if they could not burn in the fog. The old man lent a strong hand to pull up the boat upon the beach, and to lift out the benumbed rowers; and they were presently revived by having their limbs chafed, and by a strong dose of the universal medicine—corn-brandy and camphor—which, in Norway, neither man nor woman, young nor old, sick nor well, thinks of refusing upon occasion.
When Erica was in bed, warm beneath an eider-down coverlid, her mistress bent over her and whispered—
"You saw and heard Hund himself?"
"Hund himself, madame."
"What shall we do if he comes back before my husband is home from the bear-hunt?"
"If he comes, it will be in fear and penitence, thinking that all the powers are against him. But oh, madame, let him never know how it really was!"
"Leave that to me, and go to sleep now, Erica. You ought to rest well; for there is no saying what you and Oddo have saved us from. I could not have asked such a service. My husband and I must see how we can reward it." And her kind and grateful mistress kissed Erica's cheek, though Erica tried to explain that she was thinking most of some one else, when she undertook this expedition.
Great was Stiorna's consternation at Hund's non-appearance the next day, seeing us she did with her own eyes that the boat was safe in its proper place. She saw that no one wished him back. He was rarely spoken of, and then it was with dislike or fear; and when she wept over the idea of his being drowned, or carried off by hostile spirits, the only comfort offered her was that she need not fear his being dead, or that he could not come back if he chose. She was indeed obliged to suppose, at last, that it was his choice to keep away; for amidst the flying rumours that amused the inhabitants of the district for the rest of the winter—rumours of the movements of the pirate vessel, and of the pranks of the spirits of the region—there were some such clear notices of the appearance of Hund, so many eyes had seen him in one place or another, by land and water, by day and night, that Stiorna could not doubt of his being alive, and free to come home or stay away as he pleased. She could not conceal from herself that he had probably joined the pirates.