he did not notice that the old woman was looking at him in a very curious way, as if she thought that he was not just what he seemed to be. Now and then she would cast a sidelong glance at the harp, out of which a piece of costly cloth was sticking. And when Heimir bent down to warm his hands she saw beneath his rags the gleam of a golden necklace. But she said nothing, and only watched him the more.

When he had warmed himself enough he asked the woman to show him some place where he might sleep, and she said he would be better outside than in, as she did not know what her husband might say to her when he came from work. So she led him to a loft, and told him that he would be quite comfortable there, and she hoped that he would sleep well. After this she went back to cook her husband's dinner, but as she had been hindered by Heimir, it was not ready for him when he appeared.

Now Atli was tired with his labour, and very cross; and he began to grumble and complain that though he worked so hard, she was so lazy and dirty that she would not take the least trouble to help him.

"Nay," she replied. "There is no reason to be angry; for in a few moments we may gain enough to live prosperously for the rest of our days."

"How so?" replied Atli.

"Well," she said, "to-day there came to our cottage a stranger who is certainly some great prince in disguise, and is hiding in his harp a rich treasure. He is so old and tired that it would be very easy to overpower him; and besides, he is weary with travel, and perhaps already sleeping."

"Nay," answered Atli, "it seems to me a shameful thing to harm a guest who has sought shelter under our roof."

"Fool!" cried his wife. "And will you be content to live in want and poverty all your days when you can have untold wealth by just lifting your hand? Either you shall slay him, or I will take him for my husband, and we will thrust you out of doors in misery and wretchedness. For, indeed, he said something to me about marrying me when we talked together, and, for my part, I should be quite willing."

And though Atli still argued against the plan,

he at last let himself be persuaded, and taking his axe he made it sharp and bright upon the grindstone. Then they stole softly to Heimir's loft, and while Grima took the harp, and ran quickly away with it, Atli struck the sleeping man with a great blow, so that he was killed on the spot. And at that moment such a tempest of wind arose that the pillars of the house shook, and the rafters split asunder. Atli fled away in great fear, but his wife was quite calm, and they stirred up the fire in the house place, and by its light they tried to open the harp.

But as they did not know its secret, they could not do this, and were obliged to break it open; and immediately there stepped out the little Aslaug, looking round her with frightened eyes, too greatly terrified to cry. They found also many jewels and much gold. Then Atli asked the child her name, and of what race she came; but she answered nothing, and remained silent, as if she were dumb.

66

'There," cried the man angrily, "you see how foolish we have been; for what we are to do with this child I don't know. It's a nice thing to have a dumb girl fastened on to us, to feed and keep;

and besides, what shall we say to people who ask us how we got her?"

"Be quiet," replied his wife. "We will say she is our daughter, and we will call her Kraka,' after my mother."

"No one will believe that," said Atli. "The child is very fair, and looks as if she came of a noble stock, while we are coarse and ugly, both of us, and no one will think that we could have such a lovely daughter."

"Leave me to manage that," replied Grima. "I will daub her with soot, and hide her hair under a dark cap; and she shall be clothed in rags, so that she shall not seem so different from us. And if any one asks questions I can say that in my youth, when I lived still in my father's house, I also was very beautiful, and not less charming than she."

So Aslaug grew up; she was clad in the meanest rags, and put to the humblest tasks, such as sweeping the hearth and feeding the pigs. And as she never spoke, Atli and Grima both believed that she was dumb.

THERE was once in Gothland a famous Jarl called Herrand, who had a daughter, Thora. Of all maidens she was the fairest, and the most skilful in all womanly arts; and people called her the deer of the castle, because, just as the deer surpasses all other animals in grace and beauty, so she surpassed all the women of her day.

The Jarl loved his daughter dearly, and built a castle for her, not far from the king's palace, and raised a wall round it. It was his custom to send the maiden every morning some rich present, and the story goes that one day he gave her a beautiful little dragon of many colours. She