she sank down
upon the seat beside her friend. "It seems that I must do that against
my will," she said. "Dearwyn, do you get afraid when you are happy?
Sometimes, when I stand here watching for him and think how different
all has happened from what I supposed, I am so happy,"--she paused, and
it was as though the sun had caught the iris flowers in her eyes, until
a cloud came between and the blue petals purpled darkly--"so happy that
it causes fear to me, lest it be no more than a dream or in some way not
true."

Her cheek, as she ended, was softly pale, but Dearwyn brushed it pink
with sweeps of the long-stemmed blossom in her hand.

"Sweet, it is the waxing of the moon. I pray you be blithe in your
spirits. Small wonder your lover bears himself as gravely as a stone man
on a tomb if you talk such--"

"Dearwyn, the same thought has overtaken us both!" Randalin broke
in anxiously, and now she was all awake and staying the other's busy
fingers to ensure her attention. "Not a few times it has seemed to me
that he looks weary of heart, as though some struggle were sapping his
strength. He swears it is not so, yet I think the rebellion of his pride
against king-serving--"

"If you want to know my belief, it is that he carries trouble in his
breast about you," Dearwyn interrupted.

"About me?" So much hurt surprise was in Randalin's manner that the
little maid begged forgiveness with caresses of the swaying clover.

"Be not vexed, honey, but in truth he is overcome by the oddest look
whensoever he watches you without your seeing,--as though he were not
sure of you, in some way, and yet--Oh, I cannot explain it! Only tell me
this,--does he not ask you, many times and oft, if you love him, or if
others love you, or such like?"

In the midst of shaking her head, Randalin paused and her mouth became
as round as her eyes. "Foolishly do I recall it! As if he would! And
yet--Dearwyn, he has asked me four times if any Danes visit us here.
Would you think that he could be--"

"Jealous?" Dearwyn dropped her flowers to clap her hands softly. "Tata,
I have guessed his distemper rightly. Let no one say that I am not a
witch for cleverness! Ah, you can have the best fun that ever any maid
could have! If you could but make him believe something about that
Danishman that Teboen saw last winter!"

"Last winter?" Randalin repeated. "Oh! I had altogether forgotten him.
It seems that it has not been truthfully spoken when--"

The