It is to tell of Harold, the son of
Egbert, the son of Ib; comely was he to look upon,
and a braver than he lived not in these islands, nor
one more beloved of all people. But it chanced
upon a time, while he was still in early manhood,
that a grievous sorrow befell him; for on a day his
mother Eleanor came to her end in this full evil wise.
It was her intent to go unto the neighboring island,
where grazed the goats and the kine, and it fortuned
that, as she made her way thither in the boat, she
heard sweet music, as if one played upon a harp in
the waters, and, looking over the side of the boat,
she beheld down in the waters a sea-maiden making
those exceeding pleasant sounds. And the sea-maiden
ceased to play, and smiled up at Eleanor, and stretched
up her hands and besought Eleanor to pluck her from
the sea into the boat, which seeking to do, Eleanor
fell headlong into the waters, and was never thereafter
seen either alive or dead by any of her kin.
Now under this passing heavy grief Egbert, the son
of Ib, being old and spent by toil, brake down, and
on a night died, making with his latest breath most
heavy lamentation for Eleanor, his wife; so died he,
and his soul sped, as they tell, to that far northern
land where the souls of the departed make merry all
the night, which merriment sendeth forth so vast and
so beautiful a light that all the heavens are illumined
thereby. But Harold, the son of Egbert and of
Eleanor, was left alone, having neither brother, nor
sister, nor any of kin, save an uncle abiding many
leagues distant in Jutland. Thereupon befell
a wonderful thing; if it had not happened it would
not be told. It chanced that, on a certain evening
in the summer-time, Harold walked alone where a Druid
circle lay coiled like a dark serpent on a hillside;
his heart was filled with dolor, for he thought continually
of Eleanor, his mother, and he wept softly to himself
through love of that dear mother. While thus
he walked in vast heaviness of soul, he was beheld
of Membril, the fairy that with her goodly subjects
dwelt in the ruin of the Pict’s house hard by
the Druid circle. And Membril had compassion
upon Harold, and upon the exceeding fine down of a
tiny sea-bird she rode out to meet him, and it was
before his eyes as if a star shined out of a mist
in his pathway. So it was that Membril the fairy
made herself known to him, and having so done, she
said and she sung:
I am Membril, queen of Fay,
That would charm thy grief away!
Thou art like the little bark
Drifting in the cold and dark,-
Drifting through the tempest’s roar
To a rocky, icy shore;
All the torment dost thou feel
Of the spent and fearful seal
Wounded by the hunter’s steel.
I am Membril,-hark to me:
Better times await on thee!
Wouldst thou clasp thy mother dear,-
Strange things see and stranger hear?
Straight betake thee to thy boat
And to yonder haven float,-
Go thy way, and silent be,-
It is Membril counsels thee;
Go thy way, and thou shalt see!
Great marvel had Harold to this thing;
nevertheless he did the bidding of Membril the fairy,
and it was full wisely done. And presently he
came to where his boat lay, half on the shore and half
in the waters, and he unloosed the thong that held
it, and entered into the boat; but he put neither
hand to the oars thereof, for he was intent to do the
bidding of Membril the fairy. Then as if of its
own accord, or as if the kindly waves themselves bore
it along, the boat moved upon the waters and turned
toward the yonder haven whereof it was said and sung.
Fair shone the moon, and the night was passing fair;
the shadows fell from the hilltops in their sleep
and lay, as they had been little weary children, in
the valleys and upon the shore, and they were rocked
in the cradles of those valleys, and the waters along
the shore sung softly to them. Upon the one
side lay the island where grazed the goats and the
kine, and upon the other side lay the island where
Harold and other people abode; between these islands
crept the sea with its gentle murmurings, and upon
this sea drifted the boat bearing Harold to the yonder
haven. Now the haven whereunto the course lay
brooded almost beneath the shadow of the Stennis stones,
and the waters thereof were dark, as if, forsooth,
the sea frowned whensoever it saw those bloody stones
peering down into its tranquil bosom. And some
said that the place was haunted, and that upon each
seventh night came thereunto the spirits of them that
had been slain upon those stones, and waved their
ghostly arms and wailed grievously; but of latter times
none believeth this thing to be true.
It befell that, coming into the haven
and bearing toward the shore thereof, Harold was ’ware
of sweet music, and presently he saw figures as of
men and women dancing upon the holm; but neither could
he see who these people were, nor could he tell wherefrom
the music came. But such fair music never had
he heard before, and with great marvel he came from
the boat into the cluster of beech-trees that stood
between the haven and that holm where the people danced.
Then of a sudden Harold saw twelve skins lying upon
the shore in the moonlight; and they were the comeliest
and most precious sealskins that ever he saw, and he
coveted them. So presently he took up one of
the sealskins and bore it with him into his boat,
and pushed the boat from the shore into the waters
of the haven again, and, so doing, there was such plashing
of the waters that those people dancing upon the fair
green holm became ’ware of Harold’s presence,
and were afeared, so that, ceasing from their sport,
they made haste down to the shore and did on the skins
and dived into the waters with shrill cries.
But there was one of them that could not do so, because
Harold bore off that skin wherewith she was wont to
begird herself, and when she found it not she wailed
and wept and besought Harold to give her that skin
again,-and, lo! it was Eleanor, the wife
of Egbert! Now when Harold saw that it was his
mother that so entreated him he was filled with wonder,
and he drew nearer the shore to regard her and to
hear her words, for he loved her passing well.
But he denied her that skin, knowing full well that
so soon as she possessed it she would leave him and
he should never again behold her. Then Eleanor
related to him how that she had been drowned in the
sea through treachery of the harp-maiden, and how that
the souls of drowned people entered into the bodies
of seals, nor were permitted to return to earth, save
only one night in every month, at which time each
recovered his human shape and was suffered to dance
in the moonlight upon the fair green holm from the
hour of sunset unto the hour of sunrise.
“Give me the skin, I pray thee,”
she cried, “for if the sun came upon me unawares
I should crumble into dust before thine eyes, and that
moment would a curse fall upon you. I am happy
as I am; the sea and those who dwell therein are good
to me,-give me the skin, I beseech thee,
that I may return whence I came, and thereby shall
a great blessing accrue to thee and thine.”
But Harold said: “Nay,
mother, I were a fool to part so cheerfully with one
whom I love dearer than life itself! I shall
not let you go so easily; you shall come with me to
our home, where I have lived alone too long already.
I shall be alone no longer,-come with me,
I say, for I will not deliver up this skin, nor shall
any force wrest it from me!”
Then Eleanor, his mother, reasoned
a space with him, and anon she showed him the folly
of his way; but still he hung his head upon his breast
and was loath to do her bidding, until at last she
sware unto him that if he gave to her that skin he
should, upon the next dancing night, have to wife
the most beautiful maiden in the world, and therefore
should be alone in the world no more. To this
presently Harold gave assent, and then Eleanor, his
mother, bade him come to that same spot one month
hence, and do what she should then bid him do.
Receiving, therefore, the skin from him, she folded
it about her and threw herself into the sea, and Harold
betook himself unto his home.
Now wit ye well that full wearily
dragged the days and the nights until that month was
spent; but now at last it was the month of August,
and upon the night of the seventh day thereof ended
the season of waiting. It is to tell that upon
that night came Harold, the son of Egbert, from his
hut, and stood on the threshold thereof, and awaited
the rising of the moon from out the silver waters
yonder. While thus he stood there appeared unto
him Membril the fairy, and smiling upon him she said
and she sung:-
I am Membril, queen of Fay,
Come to urge thee on thy way;
Haste to yonder haven-side
Where awaits thy promised bride;
Daughter of a king is she,-
Many leagues she comes to thee,
Thine and only thine to be.
Haste and see, then come again
To thy pretty home, and, when
Smiles the sun on earth once more,
Will come knocking at thy door;
Open then, and to thy breast
Clasp whom thou shalt love the best!
It is Membril counsels thee,-
Haste and see what thou shalt see!
Now by this thing was Harold mightily
rejoiced, and he believed it to be truth that great
good was in store for him; for he had seen pleasant
things in the candle a many nights, and the smoke from
his fire blew cheerily and lightly to the westward,
and a swan had circled over his house that day week,
and in his net each day for twice seven days had he
drawn from the sea a fish having one golden eye and
one silver eye: which things, as all men know,
portend full goodly things, or else they portend nothing
at all whatsoever. So, being pleasantly minded,
Harold returned in kind unto Membril, the fairy queen,
that bespoke him so courteously, and to her and to
them that bore her company he said and he sung:-
Welcome, bonnie queen of Fay!
For thou speakest pleasing
words;
Thou shalt have a gill of whey
And a thimblefull of curds;
In this rose is honey-dew
That a bee hath brought for you!
Welcome, bonnie queen of Fay!
Call thy sisters from the
gloam,
And, whilst I am on my way,
Feast and frolic in my home,-
Kiss the moonbeams, blanching white,
Shrinking, shivering with affright!
Welcome, all, and have no fear,-
There is flax upon the sill,
No foul sprite can enter here,-
Feast and frolic as you will;
Feast and frisk till break of day,-
Welcome, little folk of Fay!
Thus having said and thus having sung,
Harold went upon his way, and came to his boat and
entered into it and journeyed to the haven where some
time he had seen and discoursed with Eleanor, his mother.
His course to this same haven lay, as before, over
the waters that stole in between the two islands from
the great sea beyond. Fair shone the moon, and
the night was passing fair; the shadows rolled from
the hilltops in their sleep and lay like little weary
children in the valleys and upon the shore, and they
were rocked in the cradles of those valleys, and the
waters along the shore sung softly to them. Upon
this hand lay the island where the goats and the kine
found sweet pasturage, and upon the other hand stretched
the island where people abode, and where the bloody
Stennis stones rebuked the smiling sky, and where
ghosts walked and wailed and waved their white arms
in the shadows of those haunted ruins where once upon
a time the Picts had dwelt. And Harold’s
heart was full of joy, the more in especial when,
as he bore nigh unto the haven, he heard sweet music
and beheld a goodly company of people that danced
in the moonlight upon the fair green holm. Then,
when presently his boat touched the inner shore of
the haven, and he departed therefrom and drew the boat
upon the shore, he saw wherefrom issued the beautiful
music to which the people danced; he saw that the
waters reached out their white fingers and touched
the kale and the fair pebbles and the brittle shells
and the moss upon the beach, and these things gave
forth sweet sounds, which were as if a thousand attuned
harps vied with the singing of the summer-night winds.
Then, as before, Harold saw sealskins lying upon the
shore, and presently came Eleanor, his mother, and
pointing to a certain fair velvet skin, she said:
“Take that fair velvet skin into thy boat and
speed with all haste to thy home. To-morrow at
sunrise thy bride shall come knocking at thy door.
And so, farewell, my son,-oh, Harold, my
only son!” Which saying, Eleanor, the wife of
Egbert, drew a skin about her and leapt into the sea;
nor was she ever thereafter beholden of human eyes.
Then Harold took up the fair velvet
skin to which his mother had directed him, and he
bore it away with him in his boat. So softly
went he upon the waters that none of them that danced
upon the fair green holm either saw or heard him.
Still danced they on to the sweet music made by the
white fingers of the waves, and still shone the white
moon upon the fair green holm where they so danced.
Now when came Harold to his home,
bearing the precious skin with him, he saw the fairies
at play upon the floor of his hut, and they feared
no evil, for there was barley strewn upon the sill
so that no wicked sprite could enter there.
And when Membril, the fairy queen, saw him bringing
the skin that he had found upon the shore, she bade
him good welcome, and she said and she sung:-
I am Membril, queen of Fay,-
Ponder well what words I say;
Hide that fair and velvet skin
Some secluded spot within;
In the tree where ravens croak,-
In the hollow of the oak,
In the cave with mosses lined,
In the earth where none may find;
Hide it quick and hide it deep,-
So secure shall be thy sleep,
Thine shall bride and blessings be,
Thine a fair posterity,-
So doth Membril counsel thee!
So, pondering upon this counsel and
thinking well of it, Harold took the fair velvet skin
and hid it, and none knew where it was hid,-none
save only the raven that lived in the hollow oak.
And when he had so done he returned unto his home
and lay upon his bed and slept. It came to pass
that early upon the morrow, when the sun made all the
eastward sky blush for the exceeding ardor of his
morning kiss, there came a knocking at the door of
Harold’s hut, and Harold opened the door, and
lo! there stood upon the threshold the fairest maiden
that eyes ever beheld. Unlike was she to maidens
dwelling in those islands, for her hair was black
as the waters of the long winter night, and her eyes
were as the twin midnight rocks that look up from the
white waves of the moonlit sea in yonder reef; withal
was she most beautiful to look upon, and her voice
was as music that stealeth to one over pleasant waters.
The maiden’s name was Persis,
and she was the daughter of a Pagan king that ruled
in a country many, many-oh, many leagues
to the southward of these islands, in a country where
unicorns and dragons be, and where dwelleth the phoenix
and hippogriffins and the cockatrix, and where bloometh
a tree that runneth blood, and where mighty princes
do wondrous things. Now it fortuned that the
king was minded to wed his daughter Persis unto a
neighboring prince, a high and mighty prince, but
one whom Persis loved not, neither could she love.
So for the first time Persis said, “Nay, I
will not,” unto her father’s mandate,
whereat the king was passing wroth, and he put his
daughter in a place that was like a jail to her, for
it was where none might see her, and where she might
see none,-none but those that attended upon
her. This much told Persis, the Pagan princess,
unto Harold, and then, furthermore, she said:
“The place wherein I was put by the king, my
father, was hard by the sea, and oftentimes I went
thereon in my little boat, and once, looking down
from that boat into the sea, I saw the face of a fair
young man within a magic mirror that was held up in
the waters of the sea by two ghostly hands, and the
fair young man moved his lips and smiled at me, and
methought I heard him say: ’Come, be my
bride, O fair and gentle Persis!’ But, vastly
afeared, I cried out and put back again to shore.
Yet in my dreams I saw that face and heard that voice,
nor could I find any rest until I came upon the sea
again in hope to see the face and hear the voice once
more. Then, that second time, as I looked into
the sea, another face came up from below and lifted
above the waters, and a woman’s voice spake thus
to me: ’I am mother of him that loveth
thee and whom thou lovest; his face hast thou seen
in the mirror, and of thee I have spoken to him; come,
let me bear thee as a bride to him!’ And in
that moment a faintness came upon me and I fell into
her arms, and so was I drowned (as men say), and so
was I a seal a little space until last dancing night,
when, lo! some one brought me to life again, and one
that said her name was Membril showed me the way unto
thy door. And now I look upon thy face in truth,
and thou art he who shall have me to his wife, for
thou art he whose face I saw within the mirror which
the ghostly hands bore up to me that day upon the
sea!”
Great then was Harold’s joy,
and he folded her in his arms, and he spake sweet
words to her, and she was content. So they were
wed that very day, and there came to do them honor
all the folk upon these islands: Dougal and Tam
and Ib and Robbie and Nels and Gram and Rupert and
Rolf and many others and all their kin, and they made
merry, and it was well. And never spake the
Pagan princess of that soft velvet skin which Harold
had hid away,-never spake she of it to him
or to any other one.
It is to tell that to Harold and to
Persis were born these children, and in this order:
Egbert and Ib (that was nicknamed the Strong) and
Harold and Joan and Tam and Annie and Rupert the Fair
and Flocken and Elsa and Albert and Theodoric,-these
eleven children were born unto them in good time;
and right fair children were they to see, comely and
stout, yet sweetly minded withal. And prosperous
times continually befell Harold; his herds multiplied,
and the fish came into his nets, so that presently
there was none other richer than he in all that country,
and he did great good with his riches, for he had compassion
to the poor. So Harold was beloved of all, and
all spake full fairly of his wife,-how
that she cared for his little ones, and kept the house,
and did deeds of sweet charity among the needy and
distressed,-ay, so was Persis, the wife
of Harold, beloved of all, and by none other more
than by Harold, who was wont to say that Persis had
brought him all he loved best: his children, his
fortune, his happiness, and, best of all, herself.
So now they were wed twice seven years, and in that
time was Persis still as young and fair to look upon
as when she came to Harold’s door for the first
time and knocked. This I account to be a marvel,
but still more a marvel was it that in all these years
spake she never a word of that soft velvet skin which
Harold took and hid,-never a word to him
nor to any one else. But the soft velvet skin
lay meanwhile in the hollow of the oak, and in the
branches of that tree perched a raven that croaked
and croaked and croaked.
Now it befell upon a time that a ship
touched at that island, and there came therefrom men
that knelt down upon the shore and made strange prayers
to a strange God, and forthwith uplifted in that island
a symbol of wood in the similitude of a cross.
Straightway went Harold with the rest to know the
cause thereof, being fearful lest for this impiety
their own gods, whom they served diligently, should
send hail and fire upon them and their herds.
But those that had come in the ship spake gently
with them and showed themselves to be peaceful folk
whose God delighted not in wars, but rather in gentleness
and love. How it was, I, knowing not, cannot
say, but presently the cause of that new God, whose
law was gentleness and love, waxed mightily, and the
people came from all around to kiss that cross and
worship it. And among them came Harold, for
in his heart had dawned the light of a new wisdom,
and he knew the truth as we know it, you and I. So
Harold was baptized in the Christian faith, he and
his children; but Persis, his wife, was not baptized,
for she was the daughter of a Pagan king, and she
feared to bring evil upon those she loved by doing
any blasphemous thing. Right sorely grieved
was Harold because of this, and oftentimes he spake
with her thereof, and oftentimes he prayed unto his
God and ours to incline her mind toward the cross,
which saveth all alike. But Persis would say:
“My best beloved, let me not do this thing in
haste, for I fear to vex thy God since I am a Pagan
and the daughter of a Pagan king, and therefore have
not within me the light that there is in thee and
thy kind. Perchance (since thy God is good and
gracious) the light will come to me anon, and shine
before mine eyes as it shineth before thine.
I pray thee, let me bide my time.” So
spake Persis, and her life ever thereafter was kind
and charitable, as, soothly, it had ever before been,
and she served Harold, her husband, well, and she was
beloved of all, and a great sweetness came to all out
of her daily life.
It fortuned, upon a day whilst Harold
was from home, there was knocking at the door of their
house, and forthwith the door opened and there stood
in the midst of them one clad all in black and of rueful
countenance. Then, as if she foresaw evil, Persis
called unto her little ones and stood between them
and that one all in black, and she demanded of him
his name and will. “I am the Death-Angel,”
quoth he, “and I come for the best-beloved of
thy lambs!”
Now Theodoric was that best-beloved;
for he was her very little one, and had always slept
upon her bosom. So when she heard those words
she made a great outcry, and wrestled with the Death-Angel,
and sought to stay him in his purpose. But the
Death-Angel chilled her with his breath, and overcame
her, and prevailed against her; and he reached into
the midst of them and took Theodoric in his arms and
folded him upon his breast, and Theodoric fell asleep
there, and his head dropped upon the Death-Angel’s
shoulder. But in her battle for the child, Persis
catched at the chain about the child’s neck,
and the chain brake and remained in her hand, and
upon the chain was the little cross of fair alabaster
which an holy man had put there when Theodoric was
baptized. So the Death-Angel went his way with
that best-beloved lamb, and Persis fell upon her face
and wailed.
The years went on and all was well
upon these islands. Egbert became a mighty fisherman,
and Ib (that was nicknamed the Strong) wrought wondrous
things in Norroway, as all men know; Joan was wed to
Cuthbert the Dane, and Flocken was wooed of a
rich man’s son of Scotland. So were all
things for good and for the best, and it was a marvel
to all that Persis, the wife of Harold, looked still
to be as young and beautiful as when she came from
the sea to be her husband’s bride. Her
life was full of gentleness and charity, and all folk
blessed her. But never in all these years spake
she aught to any one of the fair velvet skin; and
through all the years that skin lay hid in the hollow
of the oak-tree, where the raven croaked and croaked
and croaked.
At last upon a time a malady fell
upon Persis, and a strange light came into her eyes,
and naught they did was of avail to her. One
day she called Harold to her, and said: “My
beloved, the time draweth near when we twain must
part. I pray thee, send for the holy man, for
I would fain be baptized in thy faith and in the faith
of our children.” So Harold fetched the
holy man, and Persis, the daughter of the Pagan king,
was baptized, and she spake freely and full sweetly
of her love to Jesus Christ, her Saviour, and she
prayed to be taken into his rest. And when she
was baptized, there was given to her the name of Ruth,
which was most fairly done, I trow, for soothly she
had been the friend of all.
Then, when the holy man was gone,
she said to her husband: “Beloved, I beseech
thee go to yonder oak-tree, and bring me from the hollow
thereof the fair velvet skin that hath lain therein
so many years.”
Then Harold marvelled, and he cried:
“Who told thee that the fair velvet skin was
hidden there?”
“The raven told me all,”
she answered; “and had I been so minded I might
have left thee long ago,-thee and our little
ones. But I loved thee and them, and the fair
velvet skin hath been unseen of me.”
“And wouldst thou leave us now?”
he cried. “Nay, it shall not be!
Thou shalt not see that fair velvet skin, for this
very day will I cast it into the sea!”
But she put an arm about his neck
and said: “This night, dear one, we part;
but whether we shall presently be joined together in
another life I know not, neither canst thou say; for
I, having been a Pagan and the daughter of a Pagan
king, may by my birth and custom have so grievously
offended our true God that even in his compassion and
mercy he shall not find pardon for me. Therefore
I would have thee fetch-since I shall die
this night and do require of thee this last act of
kindness-I would have thee fetch that same
fair velvet skin from yonder oak-tree, and wrap me
therein, and bear me hence, and lay me upon the green
holm by the farther haven, for this is dancing night,
and the seal-folk shall come from the sea as is their
wont. Thou shalt lay me, so wrapped within that
fair velvet skin, upon that holm, and thou shalt go
a space aside and watch throughout the night, coming
not anear me (as thou lovest me!) until the dawn breaks,
nor shalt thou make any outcry, but thou shalt wait
until the night is sped. Then, when thou comest
at daybreak to the holm, if thou findest me in the
fair velvet skin thou shalt know that my sin hath been
pardoned; but if I be not there thou may’st
know that, being a Pagan, the seal-folk have borne
me back into the sea unto my kind. Thus do I
require of thee; swear so to do, and let thy beloved
bless thee.”
So Harold swore to do, and so he did.
Straightway he went to the oak-tree and took from
the hollow thereof the fair velvet skin; seeing which
deed, the raven flew away and was never thereafter
seen in these islands. And with a heavy heart,
and with full many a caress and word of love, did
Harold bind his fair wife in that same velvet skin,
and he bore her to his boat, and they went together
upon the waters; for he had sworn so to do.
His course unto the haven lay as before over the waters
that stole in between the two islands from the great
troubled sea beyond. Fair shone the moon, and
the night was passing fair; the shadows lay asleep,
like little weary children, in the valleys, and the
waters moaned, and the winds rebuked the white fingers
that stretched up from the waves to clutch them.
And when they were come to the inner shore of the
haven, Harold took his wife and bore her up the bank
and laid her where the light came down from the moon
and slept full sweetly upon the fragrant sward.
Then, kissing her, he went his way and sat behind
the Stennis stones a goodly space beyond, and there
he kept his watch, as he had sworn to do.
Now wit ye well a grievous heavy watch
it was that night, for his heart yearned for that
beloved wife that lay that while upon the fair green
holm,-ay, never before had night seemed
so long to Harold as did that dancing night when he
waited for the seal-folk to come where the some-time
Pagan princess lay wrapped in the fair velvet skin.
But while he watched and waited, Membril, the fairy
queen, came and brought others of her kind with her,
and they made a circle about Harold, and threw around
him such a charm that no evil could befall him from
the ghosts and ghouls that in their shrouds walked
among those bloody stones and wailed wofully and waved
their white arms. For Membril, coming to Harold
in the similitude of a glow-worm, made herself known
to him, and she said and she sung:
Loving heart, be calm a space
In this gloomy vigil place;
Though these confines haunted be
Naught of harm can come to thee-
Nothing canst thou see or hear
Of the ghosts that stalk anear,
For around thee Membril flings
Charms of Fay and fairy rings.
Nothing daunted was Harold by thoughts
of evil monsters, and naught recked he of the uncanny
dangers of that haunted place; but he addressed these
words to Membril and her host, and he said and he sung:
Tell me if thy piercing eyes
See the inner haven shore.
There my Own Beloved lies,
With the cowslips bending
o’er:
Speed, O gentle folk of Fay!
And in guise of cowslips say
I shall love my love for aye!
Even so did Membril and the rest;
and presently they returned, and they brought these
words unto Harold, saying and singing them:-
We as cowslips in that place
Clustered round thy dear one’s face,
And we whispered to her there
Those same words we went to bear;
And she smiled and bade us then
Bear these words to thee again:
“Die we shall, and part we may,-
Love is love and lives for aye!”
Then of a sudden there was a tumult
upon the waters, as if the waters were troubled, and
there came up out of the waters a host of seals that
made their way to the shore and cast aside their skins
and came forth in the forms of men and of women, for
they were the drowned folk that were come, as was
their wont, to dance in the moonlight upon the fair
green holm. At that moment the waters stretched
out their white fingers and struck the kale and the
pebbles and the soft moss upon the beach, for they
sought to make music for the seal-folk to dance thereby;
but the music that was made was not merry nor gleeful,
but was passing gruesome and mournful. And presently
the seal-folk came where lay the wife of Harold wrapped
in the fair velvet skin, and they knew her of old,
and they called her by what name she was known to them,
“Persis! Persis!” over and over again,
and there was great wailing among the seal-folk for
a mighty space; and the seal-folk danced never at
all that night, but wailed about the wife of Harold,
and called “Persis! Persis!” over
and over again, and made great moan. And at
last all was still once more, for the seal-folk, weeping
and clamoring grievously, went back into the sea,
and the sea sobbed itself to sleep.
Mindful of the oath he swore, Harold
dared not go down to that shore, but he besought Membril,
the queen of Fay, to fetch him tidings from his beloved,
whether she still lay upon the holm, or whether the
seal-folk had borne her away with them into the waters
of the deep. But Membril might not go, nor any
of her host, for already the dawn was in the east
and the kine were lowing on yonder slope. So
Harold was left alone a tedious time, until the sun
looked upon the earth, and then, with clamoring heart,
Harold came from the Stennis stones and leapt downward
to the holm where his beloved had lain that weary while.
Then he saw that the fair velvet skin was still there,
and presently he saw that within the skin his beloved
still reposed. He called to her, but she made
no answer; with exceeding haste he kneeled down and
did off the fair velvet skin, and folded his beloved
to his breast. The sun shone full upon her glorious
face and kissed away the dew that clung to her white
cheeks.
“Thou art redeemed, O my beloved!”
cried Harold; but her lips spake not, and her eyes
opened not upon him. Yet on the dead wife’s
face was such a smile as angels wear, and it told
him that they should meet again in a love that knoweth
no fear of parting. And as Harold held her to
his bosom and wailed, there fell down from her hand
what she had kept with her to the last, and it lay
upon the fair green holm,-the little alabaster
cross which she had snatched from Theodoric’s
neck that day the Death-Angel bore the child away.
It was to tell of Harold, the son
of Egbert, the son of Ib, and of Persis, his wife,
daughter of the Pagan king; and it hath been told.
And there is no more to tell, for the tale is ended.