Night spread its broad, dark wings over the land.
Under the shadow of night the world is changed from what it was while
day still reigned. Fear, that the daylight holds in check, is then
abroad, and the unseen seems nearer than before. All things are changed,
save Love that is unalterable; Love that is constant whether in light or
dark.
Guest the One-eyed had long since laid his tired limbs to rest in the
hay, the widow’s soul far, far away in the land of dreams, when the
outer door of the house opened slowly; only a crack at first, through
which the dog silently made its way, followed then by the girl, who
stepped with careful, noiseless tread.
Bagga closed the door behind her without a sound, patted the dog, and
whispered to it to be silent. And the intelligent beast seemed to
understand that this was a business that must be kept secret between it
and its mistress.
Off went the pair, in the direction of the stream, the dog hard at
Bagga’s heels, and evidently interested in the night’s adventure.
As they neared the flock of sheep, where they lay huddled together for
the night, she made the dog lie down, while she called softly, as was
her wont, for Ørlygur’s lamb. There was a slight commotion in the flock,
and the black-headed lamb came trotting up.
Offering some bread she had brought with her, Bagga gradually enticed it
away from the rest. She moved very slowly, to avoid alarming the others,
over towards the natural bridge across the stream.
The dog trotted along behind, with its tail down. It was jealous of the
lamb, knowing well that, when Bagga had it with her, any other creature
must take second place. To approach her now would mean a scolding, and
the dog had no desire to be sent back home, just when there was every
prospect of something quite unusual happening.
All went well. The lamb gave no trouble, and the dog followed at a safe
distance.
But the girl’s heart was sad; it was hard now to have to part with the
lamb she had cherished as a link between her lover and herself—a
tangible memory of the one she loved so deeply, yet with whom she had
never spoken—whom she had only seen now and then at church on Sundays.
Reaching the bridge, she took off her garter and fastened it round the
lamb’s neck, to have something to hold by in case the animal should take
fright. Then carefully she led it across, the earth underfoot vibrating
all the time with the rush of the water below.
After a time, the supply of breadcrumbs having ceased, the lamb grew
lazy, and showed signs of becoming rebellious. It seemed to resent
having been thus disturbed in the middle of the night. As long as there
had been compensation in the way of dainty morsels to nibble, it was
perhaps worth it, but now it would prefer to lie down and chew the cud
in peace.
Bagga, however, persisted, and with coaxing and scolding urged on her
little charge.
It was a long road, but at last they reached Borg.
Quietly as possible she opened the gate of the enclosure. It would never
do to rouse the dogs. Then she stroked the lamb sadly in farewell, her
tears falling on its woolly fleece, and thrust it through the gate,
which she closed after it.
She had forgotten to take her garter from its neck.
As she turned away from the gate, a feeling of loneliness and misery
overcame her; it was as if she had lost the one treasure of her
life—nothing was left but loneliness and emptiness. Then gradually she
grew more composed. The dog marked her trouble, and fawned on her; she
came to herself, and realized that it was time to return home.
She stood for a little, gazing with wet eyes at the dark outline of the
homestead; there slept her lover, never dreaming she was near. Surely,
surely in some mysterious way he must feel that she was there, and come
to her? Not to speak to her, no—that he should ever speak seemed to her
like a thing so distant as to be almost unreal—an entering into
paradise. But come he surely must—if only that they might see each
other—that he might realize how she loved him.
But she must go.... With bowed head she turned in the direction of home.
The long road was covered, she hardly knew how, and, without once waking
to conscious thought of the way, she found herself in the house once
more.
Silently she undressed; her head was aching, and it was long before she
could sleep. At length she fell into a heavy slumber.
When she woke next morning it seemed as if the journey of the night had
been a dream; she had to go out and convince herself that the lamb was
really gone.
Once sure, however, she felt an indescribable joy—so near she had been
to her heart’s desire that night. And none to know of it but God.... She
could not understand now why she had felt sad at parting with the lamb;
the night stood out now like a gleam of brightness in her life.
One of her garters was missing—she could not remember what she had done
with it. Fallen off somewhere, perhaps, and lying out on the road. It
would be hopeless to try and find it now, though, among all the rocks;
she might as well give it up for lost.
But it was a pity, for it was a nice one, neatly embroidered, and with
her name worked on so prettily....