can say is just this,” she says, laying hold of one end of the goods, “that if ye are made up to burn the plenishing, you must burn your wife along with it.”

“I trust it will not go so hard,” says Finnward,  “and I beg you not to speak so loud and let the house folk hear you.”

“Let them speak low that are ashamed!” cries Aud. “I speak only in reason.”

“You are to consider that the woman died in my house,” says Finnward, “and this was her last p. 24behest. In truth, goodwife, if I were to fail, it is a thing that would stick long in my throat, and would give us an ill name with the neighbours.”

p. 24

“And you are to consider,” says she, “that I am your true wife and worth all the witches ever burnt, and loving her old husband”—here she put her arms about his neck. “And you are to consider that what you wish to do is to destroy fine stuff, such as we have no means of replacing; and that she bade you do it singly to spite me, for I sought to buy this bedding from her while she was alive at her own price; and that she hated me because I was young and handsome.”

“That is a true word that she hated you, for she said so herself before she wended,” says Finnward.

“So that here is an old faggot that hated me, and she dead as a bucket,” says Aud; “and here is a young wife that loves you dear, and is alive forby”—and at that she kissed him—p. 25“and the point is, which are you to do the will of?”

p. 25

The man’s weakness caught him hard, and he faltered. “I fear some hurt will come of it,”  said he.

There she cut in, and bade the lads tread out the fire, and the lasses roll the bed-stuff up and carry it within.

“My dear,” says he, “my honour—this is against my honour.”

But she took his arm under hers, and caressed his hand, and kissed his knuckles, and led him down the bay.  “Bubble-bubble-bubble!” says she, imitating him like a baby, though she was none so young. “Bubble-bubble, and a silly old man! We must bury the troll wife, and here is trouble enough, and a vengeance! Horses will sweat for it before she comes to Skalaholt; ’tis my belief she was a man in a woman’s habit. And so now, have done, good man, and let us get her waked and buried, which is more than 

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