“My child! My child! I have been cruel to thee. Canst forgive me? Not much longer shalt thou need to bear with Gyda, for Hela even now breatheth cold upon my brow.”
“I forgive thee, Gyda,” said Egwina weakly. “Thou didst not mean to hurt me. Thou wotted not what thou wert doing.”
“No, no; I wotted not. Say, I forgive thee, mother. Give me thy hand and say it.”
Egwina stretched forth her hand and took the woman’s gently.
“I forgive thee, mother,” she said softly.
With an effort the maiden raised herself, bent over the woman and kissed her.
“Now lie beside me. Art weak, Egwina?”
“Yes, mother.”
“Mayhap Hela will bear thee to Niflheim also,” and a triumphant expression flitted across Gyda’s face. “It would glad my heart to have thee with me there. Shouldst like to die, Egwina?”
“I mind it not, Gyda. Heaven is bright and beautiful, and granther would be there. Dear granther! We were so happy together! Would I were with him!”