"Sigurd! Sigurd!" shouted Güldmar, his strong voice tremulous with anguish. "Come back! come back to Thelma!"
At the sound of that beloved name, the unhappy creature seemed to hesitate, and, profiting by that instant of irresolution, Errington and Lorimer rushed forward--Too late! Sigurd saw them coming, and glided with stealthy caution to the very brink of the torrent, where there was scarcely any foothold--there he looked back at his would-be rescuers with an air of mystery and cunning, and broke into a loud derisive laugh.
Then--still with clasped hands and smiling face--unheeding the shout of horror that broke from those who beheld him--he leaped, and fell! Down, down into the roaring abyss! For one half-second--one lightning flash--his twisted figure, like a slight black speck was seen against the wide roseate glory of the tumbling cascade--then it disappeared, engulfed and lost for ever! Gone,--with all his wild poet fancies and wandering dreams--gone, with his unspoken love and unguessed sorrows--gone where dark things shall be made light,--and where the broken or tangled chain of the soul's intelligence shall be mended and made perfect by the tender hands of the All-Wise and the All-Loving One, whose ways are too gloriously vast for our finite comprehension.
"Gone, mistress!" as he would have said to the innocent cause of his heart's anguish. "Gone where I shall grow straight and strong and brave! Mistress, if you meet me in Valhalla, you will love me!"
"Do not, I pray you, think evilly of so holy a man! He has a sore combat against the flesh and the devil!"--_The Maid of Honor_.
The horror-stricken spectators of the catastrophe stood for a minute inert and speechless,--stupefied by its suddenness and awful rapidity. Then with one accord they hurried down to the level shore of the torrent, moved by the unanimous idea that they might possibly succeed in rescuing Sigurd's frail corpse from the sharp teeth of the jagged rocks, that, piercing upwards through the foam of the roaring rapids, were certain to bruise, tear, and disfigure it beyond all recognition. But even this small satisfaction was denied them. There was no sign of a floating or struggling body anywhere visible. And while they kept an eager look-out, the light in the heavens slowly changed. From burning crimson it softened to a tender amethyst hue, as smooth and delicate as the glossy pale tint of the purple clematis,--and with it the rosy foam of the Fall graduated to varying tints of pink, from pink to tender green, and lastly, it became as a shower of amber wine. Güldmar spoke first in a voice broken by deep emotion.