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Updated: May 17, 2025
The parish was filled with rumors, and after the Christmas holiday it was told for certain that the proud maiden of Skogli had been promised in marriage to Syvert Stein. It was the general belief that the families had made the match, and that Borghild, at least, had hardly had any voice in the matter.
HE was born in the houseman's lodge; she in the great mansion. He did not know who his father was; she was the daughter of Grim of Skogli, and she was the only daughter he had.
That same night some one was heard playing wildly up in the birch copse above the Skogli mansion; now it sounded like a wail of distress, then like a fierce, defiant laugh, and now again the music seemed to hush itself into a heart-broken, sorrowful moan, and the people crossed themselves, and whispered: "Our Father;" but Borghild sat at her gable window and listened long to the weird strain.
He had a square face, strong features, and a huge crop of towy hair. His race was far-famed for wit and daring. "Tardy is your welcome, Borghild of Skogli," quoth he. "But what a faint heart does not give a bold hand can grasp, and what I am not offered I take unbidden." So saying, he flung his arm about her waist, lifted her from the floor and put her down in the middle of the room.
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