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Updated: May 20, 2025
Lilienfeld's home, when Frederick sat in front of his modelling in a new smock of unbleached linen of Miss Burns's buying, he experienced a sense of relief on Ingigerd's account. A burden had been lifted from him. Her change of home had removed a part of the responsibility from his shoulders and made a break in the feeling he had had of their belonging to each other.
"I don't anticipate any difficulties from your macaroni and spaghetti al sugo," said Frederick, who read Ingigerd's willingness in her eyes. "So I'll follow your lead as you followed mine years ago." "All right! Forward, march!" Willy's joy in his booty was patent.
Indeed, even in Frederick's soul, many of the same notions, implanted by birth and education, remained unshaken. For the first time since he had fallen under Ingigerd's spell, he realised that he was inwardly independent of her. The one question that still troubled and occupied him was how to rid himself outwardly as well as inwardly from the degrading liaison.
At the same time Ingigerd's cockatoo was squawking in Arthur Stoss's voice and continually asseverating: "I am already a man of absolutely independent fortune. I am touring simply to bring my fortune up to a certain amount." Under the impression that he was recalling these things to his memory, Frederick was really dreaming again.
But these sons, possibly on their father's death, and certainly before 1184, when young Magnus Mangi was killed at the battle of Norafjord, emigrated to Norway to obtain the Orkney jarldom about ten or fifteen years after King William's accession; while of Ingigerd's daughters, Ingibiorg, Elin, and Ragnhild, nothing is recorded at this time, though Ragnhild appears later on, and one of her sisters is believed to have married Gilchrist, Earl of Angus during the last twenty years of the twelfth century.
Every now and then he would take a reporter aside to force upon him information regarding Ingigerd's past, her birth, her rescue, her father, her European success, and the way in which her talent had been discovered. It was a rather garish mixture of truth and fiction.
Undoubtedly his harsh, severe dealings had been dictated by purely humanitarian sentiment for Ingigerd's welfare, because of the frailty of her body and still more the frailty of her soul, all in accordance with the narrow-minded principles of a traditional belief, of which he was a credulous follower.
Here the Orkneyinga Saga ends. From these we learn that of Eric Stagbrellir and Ingigerd's children, who were settled in Sutherland, the sons, Harald Ungi, Magnus, and Ragnvald Eric's son, fared east to Norway to King Magnus Erling's son, where young Magnus Eric's son fell with that king in the battle of Norafjord in Sogn in 1184.
Liebling's and Ingigerd's little cramped fingers unloosened the hold of the hand or arm of a fellow-man from the icy edge of the boat. The sailors used their oars in a way that produced dark spurts of blood. None in the boat noticed that the third mate disappeared, that Bulke took his place at the helm, and that in the bottom of the boat lay a long-haired young man, who gave no sign of life.
Captain von Kessel and the many others that had gone down with the Roland were dead and so were removed from all pain and suffering. Everything about Frederick this day breathed an atmosphere of convalescence and reconciliation. All the way from New Haven to Meriden he regaled himself with the sketch of Ingigerd's life that appeared in the papers. He could scarcely keep from laughing.
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