We are but a handful of feeble old women left living after those who led
us are gone, to the end that heathen fog smother not utterly the light
which once was so bright. In truth, most dear child, you would have no
hard lot among us. A few hours' work in the garden,--surely that is a
pleasure, watching the fair green things spring and thrive under your
care. And when the tenderness of the birds and the content of the little
creeping creatures have filled your heart to bursting with a sense of
God's goodness, to come and stand before the Holy Table and pour out
your joys in sweet melody--"

But Randalin's head was shaking too decidedly, though she was not
ungentle in her answering. "I give you thanks, Sister Wynfreda, but such
a life is not for me. My nature is such that I do not like the gloomy
songs you sing; nor do I care for green things, except to wear in my
hair. And it seems to me that I should be spiritless and a coward if I
should like such a life. I am no English girl, to tremble and hide under
a mean kirtle. I am a Norse maiden, the kinswoman of warriors. I think
I should not show much honor to my father and my brother were I to leave
them unavenged and sit down here with you. No, I will go to my King
and get justice. When he has slain the murderer and given me the castle
again, I will come back; and you shall come and live with me, and eat
meat instead of herbs, and--"

In her desperation, Sister Wynfreda caught her by the wrists and held
her. "My daughter, my daughter, shake off this sleep of your wits,
I entreat you! The men you are trusting in are dreams which you have
dreamed in the safety of your father's arms. They among whom you are
going are barbarians,--yea, devils! It were even better had you married
the son of Leofwine. Think you I know nothing of the Pagans, that you
set my words at naught? Who but Danish-men laid low these walls, and
slaughtered the holy nuns as lambs are torn by wild beasts? Have I not
seen their horrid wickedness? You think a nun a coward? Know you how
these scars came on my face? Three times, with my own hands, I pressed
a red-hot iron there to destroy the beauty that allured, else had the
Pagans dragged me with them. Was I a coward?"

Randalin's eyes were very wide. "It seems to me that you were
simple-minded," she breathed. "Why did you not thrust the iron in _his_
face?"

But Sister Wynfreda's expression changed so strangely that the girl
foresaw an attack along another