At last he saw the shining blade
lying in the midst of the line of light shed by the bright moon upon the
polished ice.
He went towards it and bent down to pick it up. The ice where it lay was
smooth and transparent as a sheet of glass, and it seemed to Kenric as
he bent over it that he saw in it the reflection of his own face. So
distinct were the features that he recoiled in sudden alarm. Then he
fell down upon his knees, resting upon his outstretched hands. He fixed
his astonished eyes upon the face in the ice. A wild cry escaped him.
The face was not his own!
Drawing back for a moment he looked once more at the strange image. The
rounded cheeks were white as snow; the eyes were motionless and glassy;
the beautiful bloodless lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of pearly
teeth. It was the face of Aasta the Fair.
Kenric tried to touch her, to take her in his arms. But the intervening
ice inclosed her as in a crystal casket. He saw that the stray locks of
her long hair, floating in the clear water, had been caught by the quick
frost, and that they were now held within the firm thick ice. Upon her
fair white throat there were marks as of a man's rough fingers. She held
her right hand upon her breast, and in its grasp there was a long sharp
dirk.
Kenric rose and stood looking down upon the beautiful form of the dead
girl.
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