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BEFORE A BOOK WAS WRITTEN
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spread out upon the top of her head, her aspect that of utter misery and desolation. She arose and crept to his side, and put a hand upon his shoulder. He turned upon her furiously. "Do not put your hand upon me!" he groaned. She hung her head in shame.
The gesture touched his heart as a white-hot iron. He lifted a hand to his forehead, and again she reached out to him. But he moved away, and looked at her curiously. "You are a sweet poison, woman, ' ' he said ; "I shall not taste you — not a drop ! ' ' He passed by her and went thru a rude opening in the rock wall, into the place where he slept, falling down upon some skins, overcome in mind and body. She followed in after him, and stood by his side, watching him a long while. Then he lifted his head and saw her.
"What do you want?" he asked.
' ' Oh, Eric, my heart ! I want I want — to die ! ' '
"You will not die," said Eric, rising and beginning to pack his few possessions into a bundle. ' ' I am going. And when I am gone, you will love him. If I stay, I must kill him. That I will not do."
With a last look at
her wet face, he went by her and out of the place, and began his journey — anywhere, to the ends of the earth — to get away. But his heart almost burst with pain as he went.
She fell down upon the place where his pallet had been and wept herself to sleep. Once she was roused by the hum of voices, as Else and Dagban talked. Then she heard Else go out. It was night and quiet. She wondered how Eric fared, and whether his flight was known. The notion struck her that they must have believed she had gone with Eric.
There was a tread close to the doorway where she lay, the skins that formed a screen were parted, and the light from faggots in the big room shone in upon her. She lay perfectly still. The step drew nearer — cat-like. A fear seized her vitals, but she lay still. Dagban stood directly over her,
murder in his
heart, death
in the knife
^ he held
|\ in his
IN hand.