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Gunnar.
Child, what say'st thou?
Egil.
There—in front—on the black horse! Father, father!
[Egil clings in terror to his father; a short pause; the storm passes over, the clouds part, the moon shines peacefully on the scene.
Gunnar.
[In quiet sorrow.] Now is Hiördis surely dead.
Örnulf.
So it must be, Gunnar;—and my vengeance was rather against her than thee. Dear has this meeting been to both of us;—there is my hand; be there peace between us!
Gunnar.
Thanks, Örnulf! And now aboard; I sail with thee to Iceland.
Örnulf.
Ay, to Iceland! Long will it be ere our forth-*faring is forgotten.
Weapon-wielding warriors' meeting,
woful, by the norland seaboard,
still shall live in song and saga
while our stem endures in Iceland.
THE END
