t is no less than the King. Dear
one, it seems strange that you cannot disclose your mind to me as well
as to--Fridtjof."

It was the first time, in their brief meetings together, that she had
spoken that name, and his smile answered. Even while his lips admitted
a trouble, his manner put it aside. "You are right that it concerns
the King, my elf. Sometimes the work he assigns me is neither easy
nor pleasant to accomplish. Yet without any blame to him, most warlike
maiden, for--"

But she would not be prevented from saying stern things of her royal
guardian, so at last he let her finish the subject, and stood pressing
her hands upon his breast, his eyes resting dreamily on her face.

When she had finished, he said slowly, "Sweeting, because my mind is
laboring under so many burdens that my wits are even duller than they
are wont, will you not have the patience to answer one question that is
not clear to me? Do you think it troublesome to tell me why it was that
you said, that day in the garden--Now shake off that look, dearest;
never will we speak of it again if it is not to your wish! Tell me what
you meant by saying that you came into Canute's camp because you had too
much faith in Rothgar, if you despise him--since you despise him so?"

Her eyes met his wonderingly. "By no means could I have said that, lord.
When I left home, I knew not that Rothgar lived. The one in whom I had
too much faith was the King. Because I was young and little experienced,
I thought him a god; and when I came to his camp and found him a man,
I thought only to escape from him. That was why I wore those clothes,
Sebert--not because I liked so wild a life. That is clear to you, is it
not?"

He did not appear to hear her last words at all. He was repeating over
and over, "The King, the King!" Suddenly he said, "Then I got that
right, that it was he who summoned me to Gloucester to make sure that
you had kept your secret from me also?--that he was angry with you for
deceiving him?"

"Yes," she said. But as he opened his lips to put another question, she
laid her finger-tip beseechingly upon them, "Sebert, my love, I beg of
you let us talk no more of those days. Sometime, when we have a long
time to be together, I will tell you everything that I have had in my
breast and you shall show me everything that you have had in yours,
but--but let us wait, sweetheart, until our happiness seems more real
than our sorrow. Even yet I do not like the