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Updated: June 24, 2025
Ulrika followed more slowly, taking a different direction to that in which her late companion was seen rapidly disappearing. On returning to the minister's dwelling, she found that Mr. Dyceworthy had not yet come back from his boating excursion.
Ulrika held her firmly, she struggled feebly yet determinedly, gazing the while with straining, eager, glassy eyes into the gloom of the opposite corner. "Darkness darkness!" she muttered hoarsely, "and the white faces of dead things! There there they lie! all still, at the foot of the black chasm their mouths move without sound what what are they saying?
"Ay, she suffered!" said Gueldmar fiercely, scarce able to restrain himself from seizing upon the miserable old woman and shaking the sinking life out of her "And had I but guessed who caused her sufferings, by the sword of Odin, I would have " Ulrika laid her hand on his suddenly upraised arm. "Listen!" she whispered.
All the little ones of the place knew her, and were attracted by her, and the time came when Ulrika, white-haired, and of peaceful countenance, could be seen knitting at her door in the long summer afternoons surrounded by a whole army of laughing, chattering, dimpled youngsters, who would play at hide-and-seek behind her chair, and clamber up to kiss her wrinkled cheeks, putting their chubby arms round her neck with that guileless confidence children show only to those whom they feel can appreciate such flattering attentions.
Try if you can find it anywhere on sea or land! It has gone, and he has gone with it like a king and warrior to glory, joy, and victory! Glory joy victory! those were his last words!" Britta retreated, and caught Ulrika by the arm. "Is he mad?" she asked fearfully. Valdemar heard her, and rose from his chair, a pained smile on his face. "I am not mad, Britta," he said gently. "Do not be afraid!
And no one ever guessed the truth no one ever knew I killed her!" Gueldmar uttered a sharp cry, and shook himself free from her touch. In the same instant his hand flew to the hilt of the hunting-knife in his girdle. "Killed her! By the gods " Ulrika sprang before him. "Shame!" she cried sternly. "She is dying!" "Too slowly for me!" exclaimed the bonde furiously. "Peace peace!" implored Ulrika.
"For who knows," mused Ulrika, "Whether it is not the Lord's hand that is extended towards me, and that in the ministering to the wants of her whom I wronged, and whom my son so greatly loved, I may not thereby cancel the past sin, and work out my own redemption!"
While she was engaged in these preparations, Thelma regained her consciousness, and began to toss and tumble and talk deliriously; but with it all she retained the innate gentleness and patience, and submitted to be undressed, though she began to sob pleadingly when Ulrika would have removed her husband's miniature from where it lay pressed against her bosom, and taking it in her own hand she kissed and held it fast.
As long as there is breath in my body I will hold you down! Not a murderess, you say ?" "No," said Ulrika very calmly, with a keen look, "I am not but you are!" "Il n'y a personne qui ait eu autant a souffrir a votre sujet que moi depuis ma naissance! aussi je vous supplie a deux genoux et au nom de Dien, d'avoir pitie de moi!" Old Breton Ballad.
"Sigurd is my son!" said Ulrika, with a sort of solemn resignation, then, with a sudden gesture, she threw her hands above her head, crying, "My son, my son! The child I thought I had killed! The Lord be praised I did not murder him!" Lovisa Elsland seemed stupefied with surprise. "Is this the truth?" she asked at last, slowly and incredulously. "The truth, the truth!" cried Ulrika passionately.
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