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Updated: July 1, 2025
"Nay, if it is indeed so urgent, noble Froeken," he replied, "do not trouble, for there is a means of making the journey. But for you, and in such bitter weather, it seems a cruelty to speak of it. A steam cargo-boat leaves here for Hammerfest and the North Cape to-morrow it will pass the Altenfjord.
Nothing would induce her to present herself again before Sir Philip or Thelma, and it was not till many days after they had left the Altenfjord that she was once more seen about the village. And then she was a changed being.
The spear of the Valkyrie had fallen! "Bury me not when I am dead Lay me not down in a dusty bed; I could not bear the life down there, With the wet worms crawling about my hair!" Long hours passed, and the next day dawned, if the dim twilight that glimmered faintly across the Altenfjord could be called a dawn. The snow-fall had ceased, the wind had sunk there was a frost-bound, monotonous calm.
Britta's worldly prognostications had come true, the simple gowns her mistress had worn at the Altenfjord were soon discarded for more costly apparel, though Sir Philip had an affection for his wife's Norwegian costumes, and in his heart thought they were as pretty, if not prettier, than the most perfect triumphs of a Parisian modiste.
He began to reproach himself, why had he been such a fool as to let her go? why had he not detained her? or at any rate, persuaded her to rest a few days in Hull? He looked at the threatening sky and the falling flakes of snow with a shiver. "What weather!" he muttered, "and there must be a darkness as of death at the Altenfjord!"
"Down in the dust are you?" he whispered brokenly. "My poor wife! God forbid that I should keep you there!" "They have the night, who had, like us, the day We, whom day binds, shall have the night as they We, from the fetters of the light unbound, Healed of our wound of living, shall sleep sound!" Night on the Altenfjord, the long, long, changeless night of winter.
And I think she will give it, Philip she must know how good you are and how happy I am." He stroked her silky hair tenderly and was silent. The Eulalie had reached the outward bend of the Altenfjord, and the station of Bosekop was rapidly disappearing. Olaf Gueldmar and the others came on deck to take their last look of it.
To relieve his mind a little, he scribbled a long letter to her, explaining everything, telling her how ardently he loved and worshipped her how he was on his way to join her at the Altenfjord, and ending by the most passionate vows of unchanging love and fidelity.
Yet it was only one of those million wonderful effects of sky and sea which are common in Norway, especially on the Altenfjord, where, though beyond the Arctic circle, the climate in summer is that of another Italy, and the landscape a living poem fairer than the visions of Endymion. There was one solitary watcher of the splendid spectacle.
To the last, before her aching eyes closed in the slumber she so sorely needed, she seemed to be carried away in fancy to a weird stretch of gloom-enveloped landscape where she stood entirely alone, vaguely wondering at the dreary scene. "How strange it seems!" she murmured almost aloud. "All snow and darkness at the Altenfjord!"
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