Chapter 7. Unrest

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_ CHAPTER VII. UNREST

Next day the storm had ceased. The weather was now milder, but it had caused little shrinking of the ice and the sea was closed as fast as ever.

When Elsalill awoke in the morning she thought: "It is surely better that a wicked man repent and live according to God's commandments than that he be punished with death."

That day Sir Archie sent a messenger to Elsalill, and he brought her a heavy armlet of gold.

And Elsalill was glad that Sir Archie had thought of giving her pleasure, and she thanked the messenger and accepted the gift.

But when he was gone she fell to thinking that this armlet had been bought for her with Herr Arne's money. When she thought of this she could not endure to look on it. She plucked it from her arm and threw it far away.

"What will my life be, if I must always call to mind that I am living on Herr Arne's money?" she thought. "If I put a mouthful of food to my lips, must I not think of the stolen money? And if I have a new gown, will it not ring in my ears that it is bought with ill-gotten gold? Now at last I see that it is impossible for me to go with Sir Archie and join my life to his. I shall tell him this when he comes."

When evening was drawing on, Sir Archie came to her. He was in cheerful mood, he had not been plagued with evil thoughts, and he believed it was owing to his promise to make good to one maiden the wrong he had done another.

When Elsalill saw him and heard him speak she could not bring herself to tell him that she was sad at heart and would part from him.

All the sorrows which gnawed at her were forgotten as she sat listening to Sir Archie.

The next day was a Sunday, and Elsalill went to church. She was there both in the morning and in the evening.

As she sat during the morning service listening to the sermon, she heard someone weeping and sobbing close by.

She thought it was one of those who sat beside her in the pew, but whether she looked to right or left she saw none but calm and devout worshippers.

Nevertheless, she plainly heard a sound of weeping, and it seemed so near to her that she might have touched the one who wept by putting out her hand.

Elsalill sat listening to the sighing and sobbing, and thought to herself that she had never heard so sorrowful a sound.

"Who is it that is afflicted with such deep grief that she must shed these bitter tears?" thought Elsalill.

She looked behind her, and she leaned forward over the next pew to see. But all were sitting in silence, and no face was wet with tears.

Then Elsalill thought there was no need to ask or wonder, for indeed she had known from the first who it was that wept beside her. "Dear sister," she whispered, "why do you not show yourself to me, as you did but lately? For you must know that I would gladly do all I may to dry your tears."

She listened for an answer, but none came. All she heard was the sobbing of the dead girl beside her.

Elsalill tried to hearken to what the preacher was saying in the pulpit, but she could follow little of it. And she grew impatient and whispered: "I know one who has more cause to weep than any, and that is myself. Had not my foster sister revealed her murderer to me I might have sat here with a heart full of joy."

As she listened to the weeping she became more and more resentful, so that she thought: "How can my dead foster sister require of me that I shall betray the man I love? Never would she herself have done such a thing, if she had lived."

She was shut up in the pew, but she could scarcely sit still. She rocked backward and forward and wrung her hands. "Now this will follow me all day," she thought. "Who knows," she went on, growing more and more anxious, "who knows whether it will not follow me through life?"

But the sobbing beside her grew ever deeper and sadder, and at last her heart was touched in spite of herself, and she too began to weep. "She who weeps so must have a terribly heavy grief," she thought. "She must have to bear suffering heavier than any of the living can conceive."

When the service was over and Elsalill had come out of church, she heard the sobbing no longer. But all the way home she wept to herself because her foster sister could find no peace in her grave.

When the time of evensong came Elsalill went again to the church, being constrained to know whether her foster sister still sat there weeping.

And as soon as Elsalill entered the church she heard her, and her soul trembled within her when she caught the sound of the sobbing. She felt her strength forsaking her and she had but one desire--to help the dead girl who was wandering among the living and knew no rest.

When Elsalill came out of church it was still light enough for her to see that one of those who walked before her left bloody footprints in the snow.

"Who can it be so poor that he goes barefoot and leaves bloody footprints in the snow?" she thought.

All those who walked before her seemed to be well-to-do folk. They were neatly dressed and well shod.

But the red footprints were not old. Elsalill could see they were made by one of the group that walked before her. "It is someone who is footsore from a long journey," she thought. "God grant he may not have far to go ere he find shelter and rest."

She had a strong desire to know who it was that had made this weary pilgrimage, and she followed the footprints, though they led her away from her home.

But suddenly she saw that all the church-goers had gone another way and that she was alone in the street. Nevertheless, the blood- red footprints were there as plain as before. "It is my poor foster sister who is going before me," she thought; and she owned to herself that she had guessed it all the time.

"Alas, my poor foster sister, I thought you went so lightly upon earth that your feet did not touch the ground. But none among the living can know how painful your pilgrimage must be."

The tears started to her eyes, and she sighed: "Could she but find peace in her grave! Woe is me that she must wander here so long, till she has worn her feet to bleeding!"

"Stay, my dear foster sister!" she cried. "Stay, that I may speak to you!"

But as she cried thus, she saw that the footprints fell yet faster in the snow, as though the dead girl were hastening her steps.

"Now she flies from me. She looks no more for help from me," said Elsalill.

The bloody footprints made her quite frantic, and she cried out: "My dear foster sister, I will do all you ask if only you may find rest in your grave!"

So soon as Elsalill had uttered these words a tall, big woman who had followed her came up and laid a hand on her arm.

"Who may you be, crying and wringing your hands here in the street?" the woman asked. "You call to my mind a little maid who came to me on Friday looking for a place and then ran away from me. Or perhaps you are the same?"

"No, I am not the same," said Elsalill, but if, as I think, you are the hostess of the Town Cellars, then I know what maid it is you speak of."

"Then you can tell me why she took herself off and has not come back," said the hostess.

"She left you," said Elsalill, "because she did not choose to hear the talk of all the evildoers who gather in your tavern."

"Many a wild companion comes to my tavern," said the hostess, "but among them are no evildoers."

"Yet the maid heard three that sat there talking among themselves," said Elsalill, "and one of them said: 'Drink, brother! Herr Arne's hoard is not yet done.'"

When Elsalill had said these words she thought: "Now I have helped my foster sister and told what I heard. Now may God help me that this woman pay no heed to my words; so I shall be quit."

But when she saw in the hostess's face that she believed her, she was afraid and would have run away.

But before she had time to move, the hostess's heavy hand had taken firm hold of her so that she could not escape.

"If you can witness that such words have been uttered in my tavern, mistress," said the hostess, "then you were best not to run away. For you must go with me to those who have the power to seize the murderers and bring them to justice." _

Read next: Chapter 8. Sir Archie's Flight

Read previous: Chapter 6. In The Town Cellars

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