a more salutary feeling of self-respect and just pride than he had ever known before. The autumn and the winter fled. Thorwald was no longer satisfied. Wineland was good; but was there not a better place to plant the infant colony? At any rate, he would sail along the shore and see. These thoughts at last resolved themselves into determination, and in the ensuing spring the vessel was again rigged for sea, and Leifsbuthir faded in the distance from the eyes of the colonists. column of moving water, tinged by the None knew whence the sound proceed Sailing eastward, they doubled a cape, to which Thorwald gave the name of Kialarness, or Keel Cape, from a resemblance to the keel of a vessel. Then there arose a strong gale, which bore them to the southeast until they had no knowledge of their position on the sea; but the stars warned them of a change of latitude. Then came a dead calm. Day after day the sun rose and set on a sleep-ed save Thorwald. He alone knew the ing ocean. Not a breath went over its gentle heart that was most unquailing surface; and so clear was it the monsters when danger threatened loudest. Theriof the deep might be seen many fathoms da stood by his side. But the effect was below, gambolling among the submarine electric. Every spirit rose involuntarily forests, or basking on the sand; and a sun to meet the result; but when they looked seemed to come fearfully up to join with again, the peril was past. The column the one above in surrounding the helpless had broken at a little distance, and they bark with a burning atmosphere. Pro- were saved. visions grew scarce, water was gone, and the prospect of a miserable death was before the colonists. All of them were not Christians; a few still adhered to the old superstitions of their forefathers. These began to murmur at the perils into which they were led by Thorwald, and to ascribe to the anger of their deities their situation. "He is a follower of new fancies," said they," and our gods are of fended because he lays no offering on their altars; it is to him we owe our troubles." But these mutinous voices were hushed when Thorwald appeared. They loved him, and his lofty bearing commanded their respect. One day about noon, a startling phenomenon was seen. A dim, gigantic object loomed up in the distance. It seemed a mighty spirit walking on the sea, with his head wrapped in clouds, indistinet, yet fearful. As it slowly and steadily approached the ship, it became a vast A light wind from the east sprung up, and hope once more visited the mariners. They were making for the land they had left. For several days the breeze increased, and they might soon reach "Wineland." One morning, at the north of the rising sun lay a low, black cloud, with irregular outlines, such as folds the tempest in its wings. Again there came dismay on the crew. Suddenly the wind rose, and the cloud swept on like a tremendous monster of the air, enveloping more than half the horizon in gloom. Then it uttered its voice, bidding even the sea to quake with dread, and far down, from among its depths, came up the response of fear. The deep below shuddered at the call of the deep above; and that frail bark, riding so helpless between these solemn powers, - what could it do but perish? It scudded with frightful velocity over the waves, now rising on their mountain-tops, now plunging, as - it were, into the very abysses of the sea. The cordage was shrieking; the masts were giving way; and the vessel, perfectly unmanageable, was driving on with incalculable speed. The waves broke over the deck, and every moment might be the last. For hours there was a terrible excitement among the crew, and the cry of the women mingled wildly with the storm. The men, many of them, murmured in a suppressed voice. Then a strong cry went forth, "It is the wrath of Egir, the Jotun of Sea-tempest; he is angry with the Christians! Down with Thorwald!" 66 166 It was the voice of the preceding day. A brawny arm hurled a battle-axe at Thorwald. It tore the dress of Brynhilda in its passage. Eric drew her aside, or the missive designed for Thorwald would have killed the haughty girl. "Down with Thorwald!" reiterated the maniac, and rushed forward with a piece of timber. Magnus!" shouted Thorwald, "one step further, and you are a dead man! Away!" But the maniac heeded him not. Thorwald struck him a blow that felled him to the deck. He essayed to rise; but just at that moment the ship gave a heavy lurch, and he lost his balance and fell overboard. One shriek of deadly terror burst on the ear; then the waters closed over him forever. Horror came over all. The superstitious saw in it a judgment on Magnus. The hand of a God was there, and men trembled and bowed in submission. But danger still was near. The roar of billows breaking on shore became every moment more distinct. The vessel might soon go to pieces on rocks. The lightning gleamed more fearfully. The shore was soon visible, a low beach of sand. "See, my friends!" said Thorwald; "if we gain that, we are saved; at the rate we have been going for the last twenty-four hours, we shall soon be there." He had scarcely spoken, when a heavy sea swept over the deck, carrying every soul into the sea. The next moment the vessel was struck with lightning and capsized. But Providence watched over the colonists. Wives and children clung to their husbands and parents. Eric was a powerful swimmer; and to him, for the second time, the proud Brynhilda owed her life. All reached the shore in safety, after a long and weary struggle. It was again the barren shore of Kialarness. The vessel was stranded in the shoal water; but the energy of the Northmen soon repaired it for sea, from the wood which grew at a little distance inland. A few weeks saw them again exploring the coast, in search of their site for a colony. The sandy Kialarness faded behind them, and the shores wore the look of their beloved Wineland. At last, they neared a beautiful promontory, covered with large forest trees, with vines climbing up and almost hiding their rough bark, mingling their light green with the sombre foliage of their supporters. They passed so close to it that every object was distinctly visible; and it seemed but a few yards to the green and flowery bank, where the waves broke lightly on a slip of the whitest sand. Thorwald and Therida stood on the deck of the vessel, watching the passing shores. A shadow fell on the spirit of Therida, as she gazed far into a little nook among the trees, where the branches were so thick on the top as to exclude the sun and throw a softened gloom over the aspect of the little curtained spot. Even the flowers there looked quiet, as though the angel of peace had touched them with his wing, and constituted them the visible witnesses of his presence. The birds seemed to sing plaintively and almost mournfully; and the little squirrel, the graceful plunderer of the woods, glided about like the guardian spirit of the solitude. "Surely, nothing evil can live there, Therida," said Thorwald, musingly; "it is the very temple of repose; and we will come hither and build our habitation and abide for a season, when the colony has become established." Oh, Thorwald, that is the very spot of my dream! See, away in the midst of those trees is a dark pit! The grave is already there, open, yawning for us!" Nonsense, Therida! Do you not see what you call an open pit is nothing but a mass of shadow, where the foliage will not allow the sunbeams a way? This is a solemn as well as lovely place, and we will build a church here some day. It is just the scene for worship, so calm and still; and when we can leave the settlement, we will come here and dwell, and be happy, and grow old; and if it please God here to make our grave, why, we shall sleep as sweetly as in the burialfield at Heriulfsness. "There!" continued he, "now we have passed it, and the shores recede inland. Here is a beautiful one; and look! there are moving objects on the water." Those moving objects were canoes filled with natives, who approached, and with friendly signs invited them to land. It was as beautiful and fertile as the Wineland they had left, and even more so. Wild birds and gentle animals were . enjoying their little day in the luxuriant forests; and the bays and streams were full of fish. Thorwald decided this was the place for the colony. The axes of the Northmen again rung through the New England woods; and a few rude, yet comfortable dwellings were soon reared. Therida again trained her vines and cultivated her flowers, as in the happy times at Leifsbuthir. Eric, also, had found better spirits; for Brynhilda remembered the lessons of the shipwreck, and treated him at least kindly; and he would sing to them the old Icelandic legends, and repeat the rhymes of the Skalds in the soft twilight. The Indians were apparently on the best terms with the strangers. The women and girls brought belts of shell-work and moccasons wrought with feathers to the Northwomen, and Uncas, the brother of the chief of the tribe, was a frequent guest of Thorwald. He showed him the haunts of the deer, and the fishing-grounds in the neighborhood, and brought the choicest of his game to Therida. Every prospect of the colonists looked promising. They had begun to beautify and adorn the buildings they had reared. A church was in progress on the southern declivity of the beautiful promontory; and Christianity seemed about to plant her cross in the lonely wilderness, when events occurred that spread darkness again over the land, and retarded for centuries the glorious march of truth. The visits of Uncas to the cottage of Thorwald were frequent, and often at times when he knew Thorwald was absent. The presents he gave to Therida and Brynhilda were always arranged so that the best and prettiest were for Therida; and the savage seemed to have the impression that both were sisters of Thorwald. Therida, unsuspicious, treated him with the open kindness of her nature; but Thorwald secretly kept watch over his movements, though the situation of the colonists naturally made them anxious to be on terms of peace with the.red men. He saw that the poor savage had already learned a preference for the beautiful North-flower over the tawny maidens of his tribe, and that danger was hovering, not only over Therida, but the colony also. One day in the absence of Thorwald the chief entered his dwelling. He brought game, feathers, and shells. Therida, as usual, received him kindly. "Uncas has brought the beautiful Paleface something that shall make her smile on him. See," said he, unloading his basket, "how he has remembered her among the hunting-grounds." Therida thanked him, and took the presents. "Uncas loves the beautiful Pale-flower; will she come and dwell in his wigwam? She shall have maidens to cook her venison and weave the nets and string her shells. The Pale-flower shall only smile on Uncas: and he will bring her the deer, the pheasant, and the salmon. Will she come? Therida looked with surprise in the face of the chief. 1ts fierce determination, and an indefinable expression in his eye, alarmed her. She was alone, - for Brynhilda and Thorwald were both away, and in the power of a fierce savage, whose moral sense was as rude as his life was wild. But she replied calmly, "Therida may not dwell in the wigwam of Uncas, though he is a great brave and a good chief; for the Great Spirit has given her to Thorwald; and he would frown if she looked on the face of another, and perhaps send his thunderbolt to crush them both." "Uncas has had a dream, and the medicine man has made it plain. It says the Great Spirit has not given the Pale-flower to the Pale-chief. Why does she speak that which is not true to Uncas?" "Therida speaks nothing but the truth. Therida loves the Pale-chief. If she would look on other braves, he comes before her and hides them. How, then, can she look on Uncas? My brother has many maidens among his people who can see none but him, more beautiful than Therida." "Uncas has no light in his wigwam. He walks in darkness amid the huntinggrounds. Let the Pale-flower dwell in his wigwam, and he will have sunshine all about him. Uncas has said it; the Paleflower must dwell with him." again, and sprung upon him with all the vigor of unslaked vengeance. Therida saw, from her covert, the danger of Thorwald. She rushed toward them. "Away, Therida! Back! if you would not see me powerless!" shouted Thorwald. She disappeared from view, but not at a distance; how could she when Thorwald was in danger? The contest was doubtful. Uncas sometimes held the advantage, but only for a few moments. Thorwald aimed such a blow at the head of the savage that he tottered and fell. Thorwald stood over him with his spear uplifted: "Go, Uncas," said he ; I wish not your life; you have been kind to me, and eaten my bread, and my Saviour says, • Blessed are the merciful!' Go, and tell your people we would be their friends, and will do them no harm except in our own defence!" He turned away; but Uncas He seized the arm of Therida. Quiv- had not had his revenge. He rushed fuering with uncontrollable fear, she shriek-riously upon him again, and Thorwald fell ed wildly for Thorwald. Suddenly, a Suddenly, a beneath his arm. He was recovering blow sent the Indian reeling to the wall; himself when Therida sprung wildly bebut he quickly recovered himself, and tween them, regardless of the arrows that struck at Thorwald with his knife. Thor- were flying around her, regardless of wald eluded his arm, and snatching his everything but the danger of Thorwald. -battle-axe from its resting-place, quickly As soon as Uncas saw her, he seized the made the Indian retreat through the open spear that had fallen from Thorwald as door. he fell; and before Thorwald could arrest his arm, he plunged it deep in the side of Therida. "The Pale-flower shall not dwell in the wigwam of Thorwald!" he exclaimed, as her blood poured itself upon the ground. In a few hours, alarm was among the colonists. The Indians had come down upon them, headed by Uncas; and flames were bursting through some of the dwellings; and arrows and stones were flying in every direction. The women were placed in one of the safest dwellings; but the Northwomen were heroines, and would share the peril of their husbands. "Therida, ," said Thorwald, as he left her, "do not fear for me. Stay here; while you are safe, I shall be unharmed." He waited not for reply, but dashed into the fight. Uncas was everywhere, breathing revenge and blood. His terrific war-whoop rung in the ears of the Northmen like the yell of an infuriated demon; but the first object of his search was Thorwald. raged around the field until he encountered him; they were separated by the changes of the affray; he sought him out He What was now the issue of the fight to Thorwald? "Therida! Therida! speak to me once, only once!" But Therida never lifted up her head, though the last gleam of her eyes rested pleasantly on Thorwald, as if thanking him for all the unswerving tenderness of the past. She never spoke again; and the soft blue eyes faded, and the white lids curtained them forever. Her passing away on that field of blood seemed but the translation of an angel from the tears of earth to its own congenial skies. She had not gone a dark or fearful way! Still the fight raged. The Northmen rushed on Uncas, and he fell beneath their weapons. When the Indians saw their chief cut down, they began to quail, and soon gave up the field. Thorwald held the inanimate form of Therida, when an arrow struck him in the side, and he fell near the body of the still conscious Uncas. The dying savage opened his glazing eyes; and as he saw the fall of Thorwald, deep hate lighted up again their fading fires. "He will go with her to the white man's heaven, and I shall wander in darkness among the happy hunting-grounds! I have lost my Terenge!" he muttered. The shadows of the grave again chased away the malignant expression. The fierce spirit passed. Grief and death were in the once happy home of Thorwald. On a rude bier lay the form of Therida, still beautiful with the impress of the soul that yet lingered on the clay. By the side of the dead Brynhilda was seated, with her once haughty spirit tamed by suffering. With all the stern and repulsive traits of her character, her love for Therida had been a redeeming thing. She had left her parents and home to share her fortunes; and now that beloved sister had gone, - left her, at the bidding of another Power, whose command she might not disobey. Eric was by her side, as gentle, as kind as ever, and with the tenderness of a brother strove to soothe her affliction. In another portion of the same apartment, on a low couch, was Thorwald. Since he saw the corpse of Therida laid on its bier, he had scarcely spoken, but lay with his eyes closed in prayer. The fountains of his life were dried away in a twofold sense. He knew his wound to be mortal, though the skilful in surgery bade him hope. He had done with earthly hope when Therida departed. His high ambition was quelled, his energetic spirit enfeebled. Life had passed by him with its interests, and heaven was brought near. One after another his countrymen gathered around his couch to see their departing leader. He roused himself to give them his last counsel, and reveal his last wishes, as, with a face radiant with faith, he spoke of his approaching change. "I advise you," said he, "to prepare immediately for your return; but ye shall first carry my body to the promontory I thought so beautiful, and there lay Therida and myself to rest, where I once thought to make my home. It may be my words were prophetic, when I spoke of abiding there for a season! Lay me there, and plant a cross at my head and another at my feet; and call the place Krossanes (Cape Cross) through all future time." They promised to fulfil his wishes. He spoke his thanks feebly, then lay quite still. Brynhilda and Eric strove to arouse him; but he gave no answer. Whatever might be that mysterious state that still held the departing spirit, it was most happy. The expression of the face was that of bliss. Does not Death oftentimes lead the soul away from outward things, that it may, in its most hidden cells, commune with itself and with God? And is not that communion most rapturous? So does the countenance of the dying often give assurance; and beautiful and soothing is the thought that the conqueror comes with lovely visions and melodious tones, to wrap the spirit in their beatitude, while he unlocks its prison-house, and admits it to its full and perfect fruition! Thus with Thorwald. He passed so gently from his trance, the beholders could not weep. It were a sin to mourn one so highly favored of Heaven. The Northmen knelt in holy awe beside the clay, and with one voice, lifted up a thanksgiving to God, that he had revealed a better life through the mission of his Son. They buried Thorwald and Therida on the peaceful promontory; and by a strange coincidence, in the very spot that seemed to them so sacred to repose; and the deep shadow, where the morbid fancy of the beautiful North-flower saw an open pit, fell on their grave. A few days after their burial, two forms, with hands clasped each in the other's, knelt at that mound. The long ringlets of Brynhilda now swept over a brow whence all pride had fled. Well had it been for her, that baptism of suffering! It was only when her soul had been buried |