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And Frida, well pleased to speak of the friends she loved so well, told of her childhood's life in the Forest, and the kindness shown to her by Elsie and Wilhelm, not forgetting to speak of Hans and the little blind Anna so early called to glory.
It is the day my Aubyn always fixed, and he never fails me." "Little fool!" her aunt exclaimed, as Frida kissed her hand and courtesied, and ran round the corner; "one comfort is to know that she is as mad as a mole, at any rate."
So he said nothing, but stooped down, and as he was not far enough down even then he knelt down and blew the fire, that was faintly crackling, with all the breath he had in his broad chest. Sparks began to leap out at once, and a small flame shot up and soon turned into a big one. There was a shout of glee. Frida hopped about in the circle, her plaits flying: "It's burning, it's burning!"
For a day or two after this notable encounter between tabooer and taboo-breaker, Philip moved about in a most uneasy state of mind. Indeed, so deeply did he regret his involuntary part in this painful escapade that he never mentioned a word of it to Robert Monteith; nor did Frida either. To say the truth, husband and wife were seldom confidential one with the other.
For your sake, Frida, to shield you from the effects of their cruel taboos, there's but one course open: I must submit to this madman. He may shoot me if he will.... Stand free, and let him!" But with a passionate oath, Robert Monteith seized her arm and flung her madly from him. She fell, reeling, on one side. His eyes were bloodshot with the savage thirst for vengeance.
True, Hans Hörstel reads it well enough; but what of that? He too has left us. Ach! it is plain no one cares for the poor wood-cutters and charcoal-burners who live in the Forest, and some grand English gentleman will be getting our woodland child for a wife, and she will return to us no more." But Frida only laughed at these lamentations. "Why, what nonsense you speak!" she said.
Arguments there were that sounded quite as if a baby must be perfectly convinced by them; and then there would be quite a different line of reason taken by someone who knew all about it and despised the opposite. So that many of a less decided way of thinking every day embraced whatever had been last confuted. Frida counted all as traitors who-opposed their liege the king.
Frida opened her Bible and read aloud the words of the "shepherd psalm," so precious to many a dying soul, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me." To her amazement the sick woman repeated the words, "thou art with me;" and as she finished the last word the soul fled, and Frida and Maggie were alone with the dead.
Air and sea were still and quiet; the murmur of the multitudinous wavelets could not climb the cliff; but loops and curves of snowy braiding on the dark gray water showed the set of tide and shift of current in and out the buried rocks. Standing in the void of fear, and gazing into the deep of death, Frida loved the pair of sea gulls hovering halfway between her and the soft gray sea.
Gliding grace distinguished her when she walked. Her motion was equable. As once the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair, and straightway coveted them, even so Bertram Ingledew looked on Frida Monteith, and saw at the first glance she was a woman to be desired, a soul high-throned, very calm and beautiful.
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