[Is about to throw the phial against a rock.
MARGIT. [Seizing his arm.]
Nay, hold! Let me have it--
GUDMUND.
First tell me why?
MARGIT.
I'd fain fling it down to the neckan hard by,
Who so often has made my dull hours fleet
With his harping and songs, so strange and sweet.
Give it me!
[Takes the phial from his hand.
There!
[Feigns to throw it into the river.
GUDMUND. [Goes to the right, and looks down into the ravine.]
Have you thrown it away?
MARGIT. [Concealing the phial.]
Aye, surely! You saw--
[Whispers as she goes towards the house.
Now God help and spare me!
[Aloud.
Gudmund!
GUDMUND. [Approaching.]
What would you?
MARGIT.
Teach me, I pray,
How to interpret the ancient lay
They sing of the church in the valley there:
A gentle knight and a lady fair,
They loved each other well.
That very day on her bier she lay
He on his sword-point fell.
They buried her by the northward spire,
And him by the south kirk wall;
And theretofore grew neither bush nor briar
In the hallowed ground at all.
But next spring from their coffins twain
Two lilies fair upgrew--
And by and by, o'er the roof-tree high,
They twined and they bloomed the whole year through.
How read you the riddle?
GUDMUND. [Looks searchingly at her.]
I scarce can say.
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