The rest was soon done. Meanwhile she shed tears, but that was because she had no other way to utter forth her bliss. The sobbing ceased when she rose, and after exchanging embraces she walked out upright.
The weather had turned unseasonably cold. Wind drove clouds across a wan sky and soughed in leaves that were fast changing color. Shadows came and went. People who had been waiting at the door crowded around to bless Dagmar and welcome her to Christendom. They had prepared a modest meal of celebration. On the morrow the visitors must leave-she for the harbor, where Brynhild lay clear to sail.
Tauno, who had barely greeted his father that was, and had not knelt in church, stood aloof beneath a pine, as if to refuse a share in winter. It was a time before Dagmar could break free of her well-wishers and seek him out. None followed, as ill-omened as he seemed, roughly clad and armed with a spear.
She stopped before him and held out her hands. He made no response. Her veil and gown fluttered wildly, pressing cloth against hip and bosom. Nonetheless she was virginal. Perhaps that was because of an inner solemnity which no Faerie being could ever know.
Since he kept silence, she drew breath and spoke: “Thank you for coming. 1 wish 1 knew what else to say.”
“I had to bid my sister farewell,” he answered. “She was dear to me.”
Her lip quivered. “But 1 am your sister!”
He shook his head. “You’re a stranger. Aye, we share mem-
ories, we who shared a womb. Dagmar, though, is no mermaid; she’s a veritable saint.”
“No, you mustn’t believe that. I’m sanctified this day, like any infant newly received into Christ’s flock-yet 1 too will fall by the wayside over and over-but 1 dare hope 1 may repent and win forgiveness.”
“That was not Eyjan talking,” he said wryly. Her head drooped. “Then you refuse salvation?” He stood leaned on his spear. “At least you can’t stop my prayers for you, Tauno.”
At that, he grimaced. “I’ve no wish to cause you pain.”
“You’d gladden me if you’d fare home with me.”
“No. I’ve plighted a certain troth here. But won’t you wait
until spring? Else it could be a stormy passage.”
“We are in God’s keeping. 1 must go to my rightful man, lest he die in his sins.”
Tauno nodded. “You are Dagmar in truth. Well, greet them from me, and may luck swim with all of you.” He turned and strode off into the woods. When he was out of sight, he ran as if hounded.
Nada was not in the glen where she ~nd Tauno cornrnonly met, nor anywhere near. He strained his senses and skills that were of Faerie but could find only the dimmest spoor. Often the trail broke and he must cast widely about before he caught further traces. These showed in their far-scattering directions, and their own character, that she had been roving about distraught. The knowl-edge drove him frantic.
It took him a pair of days and nights to track her down. He did on the evening of the equinox. By then he was beside himself, and lurching with weariness.
Cold had deepened, gnawing inward through windless air. The sky was low and flat gray. She stood on the shore of the lake, which reached steely from a forest gone brown and yellow, a few splashes of blood-colored maple or somber evergreen, many boughs quite bereft. Her figure was tiny, lost, a wisp of pallor.
“Nada, oh, Nada,” he called, and stumbled toward her. His voice was hoarse from crying out while he searched.
“Tauno, beloved!” She sped to his arms. He folded them with vast care around her frailty. She felt almost as frozen as the day, and shuddered against him. Their tears mingled when they kissed.
“Where have you been?” he blurted. “What’s the matter?”
“I was afraid-“ she whispered.
He stiffened. “What of?”
That you might not come back-“
“Darling, you knew I would-“
“before I must go under.”
“Under?”
“I shouldn’t have feared. I’m sorry. I should have trusted you. But I couldn’t think very well, it’s been so bleak.” She huddled still closer. “You’re here.”