Erling the Bold | Page 9

or
the Evil One] which is matter of consideration for all honest men, aye,
and women too, who would live in peace; for if the Evil Spirit exists at
all, as I firmly believe he does, in some shape or other, it were well to
keep as far from him as we may, and specially to avoid those erring
mortals who seem to court his company."

"The old man is misjudged, believe me," replied the girl earnestly; "I
have spoken much with him and oft. It may be he is wrong in some
things--how can a woman judge of such matters?--but he is gentle, and
has a kind heart."
"I like him not," was Erling's curt reply.
The youth and maiden had now reached a part of the valley where a
small footpath diverged from the main track which led to Ulf's dwelling.
The path ran in the direction of the hayfields that bordered the fiord.
Just as they reached it, Hilda observed that her father was labouring
there with his thralls.
"See," she exclaimed, stopping abruptly, and taking her pitcher from
Erling, "my father is in the hayfield."
The youth was about to remonstrate and insist on being allowed to
carry the pitcher to the house before going to the field; but on second
thoughts he resigned his slight burden, and, saying "farewell", turned
on his heel and descended the path with rapid step and a somewhat
burdened heart.
"She loves me not," he muttered to himself, almost sternly. "I am a
brother, nothing more."
Indulging in these and kindred gloomy reflections, he advanced
towards a rocky defile where the path diverged to the right. Before
taking the turn he looked back. Hilda was standing on the spot where
they had parted, but her face was not directed towards her late
companion. She was looking steadily up the valley. Presently the object
which attracted her attention appeared in view, and Erling felt a slight
sensation of anger, he scarce knew why, on observing the old man who
had been the subject of their recent conversation issue from among the
rocks. His first impulse was to turn back, but, checking himself, he
wheeled sharply round and hurried away.
Scarcely had he taken three steps, however, when he was arrested by a
sound that resembled a crash of thunder. Glancing quickly upwards, he

beheld an enormous mass of rock, which had become detached from
the mountain side, descending in shattered fragments into the valley.
The formation of Horlingdal at that particular point was peculiar. The
mountain ranges on either side, which rose to a height of at least four
thousand feet, approached each other abruptly, thus forming a dark
gloomy defile of a few hundred yards in width, with precipitous cliffs
on either side, and the river roaring in the centre of the pass. The water
rushed in white-crested billows through its rock-impeded bed, and
terminated in a splendid foss, or fall, forty or fifty feet high, which
plunged into a seething caldron, whence it issued in a troubled stream
to the plain that opened out below. It here found rest in the level fields
of Ulfstede, that lay at the head of the fiord. The open amphitheatre
above this pass, with its circlet of grand glacier-capped mountains, was
the abode of a considerable number of small farmers, in the midst of
whose dwellings stood the residence of Haldor, where the meeting in
the smithy just described took place.
It was in this narrow defile that the landslip happened, a catastrophe
which always has been and still is of frequent occurrence in the
mountain regions of Norway.
Hilda and the old man (whom we shall henceforth call Christian) cast
their eyes hastily upwards on hearing the sound that had arrested
Erling's steps so suddenly. The enormous mass of rock was detached
from the hill on the other side of the river, but the defile was so narrow
that falling rocks often rebounded quite across it. The slip occurred just
opposite the spot on which Hilda and the old man stood, and as the
terrible shower came on, tearing down trees and rocks, the heavier
masses being dashed and spurned from the hillside in innumerable
fragments, it became evident that to escape beyond the range of the
chaotic deluge was impossible.
Hilda understood the danger so well that she was panic stricken and
rooted to the spot. Erling understood it also, and, with a sudden cry,
dashed at full speed to the rescue. His cry was one almost of despair,
for the distance between them was so great that he had no chance, he
knew, of reaching her in time.

In this extremity the hermit looked round for a crevice or a rock which
might afford protection, but no such place of safety was at