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"Do as I command you," Unorna repeated with the angry and dominant intonation that always came into her voice when she was not obeyed. Again the hand was raised for a moment, groped in the darkness and sank down into the shadow. "Beatrice Varanger, you must do my will. I order you to open the door of the tabernacle, to take out what is within and to throw it to the ground!"

In the Varanger Fjord, we had pretty freely expressed our impressions of the desolate coast. Afterwards on returning past the grand cliff scenery of Nordkyn, we were admiring some bold formation of the rocks, when a Norwegian came up and said, in a tone of angry irony: "Ah, you find a little to admire at last, do you? You find some beauty in our country, after all?" So in regard to the government.

"Beatrice Varanger begs that Keyork Arabian will meet her in the parlour of the convent as soon after receiving this as possible. The matter is very important." She had reasons of her own for believing that Keyork had not forgotten her in the five years or more since they had been in Egypt together.

and took ship for Constantinople, and enlisted in the Varanger guard, and died full of years and honors, leaving fair-haired children behind them, to become Varangers in their turn. Be that as it may, Hereward rode south. He was not going in pomp and glory enough. It seemed mean for the once great Hereward to sneak into Winchester with three knights.

There is, however, a wonderful boundary-line, in addition, drawn by Nature between the alien waters. That last wave of the Gulf Stream which washes the North Cape and keeps the fjords of Finmark open and unfrozen the whole year through, sweeps eastward along the coast, until it reaches the head of Varanger Fjord.

But Harold Sigurdsson, Harold Hardraade, Harold the Viking, Harold the Varanger, Harold the Lionslayer, Harold of Constantinople, the bravest among champions, the wisest among kings, the cunningest among minstrels, the darling of the Vikings of the North; the one man whom Hereward had taken for his pattern and his ideal, the one man under whose banner he would have been proud to fight the earth seemed empty, if Harold Hardraade were gone.

Almost before it had stopped, the door opened and Keyork Arabian's short, heavy form emerged and descended hastily to the pavement. He rang the bell furiously, and the old portress set the gate ajar and looked out cautiously, fearing that the noisy peal meant trouble or disturbance. "The lady Beatrice Varanger I must see her instantly!" cried the little man in terrible excitement.

I and my brother are going to Constantinople to join the Varanger guard, and shall not burn Crowland, or let any man burn it." "Shall not let?" "No," said the young man, so quietly, that Hereward was cowed. "I I only meant if they did not do right by me." "Do right thyself," said Siward. Hereward swore awfully, and laid his hand on his sword-hilt.

She was able to count the strokes and was glad to find that she had lost no time. As soon as the long, singing echo of the bells had died away, she spoke, not loudly, but clearly and distinctly. "Beatrice Varanger, go forward and mount the steps I have placed for you." The dark figure moved obediently, and Unorna heard the slight sound of Beatrice's foot upon the wood.

She was on the point of saying that she knew already and too well. "I am Beatrice Varanger." "I am Unorna." She could not help a sort of cold defiance that sounded in her tone as she pronounced the only name she could call hers. "Unorna?" Beatrice repeated, courteously enough, but with an air of surprise. "Yes that is all. It seems strange to you?