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No.

[Relieved.] Not by his own hand then? No. It was an ice-cold metal hand that gripped him by the heart. [To ] Go for help. Get the men to come up from the farm. Yes, I will, ma'am. [To herself.] Lord save us! [She goes out through the wood to the right.

[Standing behind the bench.] So the night air has killed him

So it appears.

strong man that he was.

[Coming in front of the bench.] Will you not look at him, Gunhild?

[With a gesture of repulsion.] No, no, no. [Lowering her voice.] He was a miner's son,