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The child looked at her and was amazed. “I do not wish them,” she said. “I wish they might be burned.”

“Upon my word, what next?” cried Aud. “And why should they be burned?”

“I know my father tried to burn these things,” said Asdis, “and he named Thorgunna’s name upon the skerry ere he died. And, O mother, I doubt they have brought ill luck.”

But the more Aud was terrified, the more she would make light of it.

Then the girl put her hand upon her mother’s. “I fear they are ill come by,” said she.

The blood sprang in Aud’s face. “And who made you a judge upon your mother that bore you?” cried she.

“Kinswoman,” said Asdis, looking down, “I saw you with the brooch.”

“What do you mean? When? Where did you see me?” cried the mother.

“Here in the hall,” said Asdis, looking on the floor, “the night you stole it.”

At that Aud let out a cry. Then she heaved up her hand to strike the child. “You little spy!” she cried. Then she covered her face, and wept, and rocked herself. “What can you know?” she cried. “How can you understand, that are a baby, not so long weaned? He could–your father could, the dear good man, dead and gone! He could understand and pity, he was good to me. Now he has left me alone with heartless children! Asdis,” she cried, “have you no nature in your blood? You do not know what I have done and suffered for them. I have done–oh, and I could have done anything! And there is your father dead. And after all, you ask me not to use them? No woman in Iceland has the like. And you wish me to destroy them? Not if the dead should rise!” she cried. “No, no,” and she stopped her ears, “not if the dead should rise, and let that end it!”

So she ran into her bed-place, and clapped at the door, and left the child amazed.

But for all Aud spoke with so much passion, it was noticed that for long she left the things unused. Only she would be locked somewhile daily in her bed-place, where she pored on them and secretly wore them for her pleasure.

Now winter was at hand; the days grew short and the nights long; and under the golden face of morning the isle would stand silver with frost. Word came from Holyfell to Frodis Water of a company of young men upon a journey; that night they supped at Holyfell, the next it would be at Frodis Water; and Alf of the Fells was there, and Thongbrand Ketilson, and Hall the Fair. Aud went early to her bed-place, and there she pored upon these fineries till her heart was melted with self-love. There was a kirtle of a mingled colour, and the blue shot into the green, and the green lightened from the blue, as the colours play in the ocean between deeps and shallows: she thought she could endure to live no longer and not wear it. There was a bracelet of an ell long, wrought like a serpent and with fiery jewels for the eyes; she saw it shine on her white arm and her head grew dizzy with desire. “Ah!” she thought, “never were fine lendings better met with a fair wearer.” And she closed her eyelids, and she thought she saw herself among the company and the men’s eyes go after her admiring. With that she considered that she must soon marry one of them and wondered which; and she thought Alf was perhaps the best, or Hall the Fair, but was not certain, and then she remembered Finnward Keelfarer in his cairn upon the hill, and was concerned. “Well, he was a good husband to me,” she thought, “and I was a good wife to him. But that is an old song now.” So she turned again to handling the stuffs and jewels. At last she got to bed in the smooth sheets, and lay, and fancied how she would look, and admired herself, and saw others admire her, and told herself stories, till her heart grew warm and she chuckled to herself between the sheets. So she shook awhile with laughter; and then the mirth abated but not the shaking; and a grue took hold upon her flesh, and the cold of the grave upon her belly, and the terror of death upon her soul. With that a voice was in her ear: “It was so Thorgunna sickened.” Thrice in the night the chill and the terror took her, and thrice it passed away; and when she rose on the morrow, death had breathed upon her countenance.