mes,
that if a man sees his profit within his reach he is a fool if he don't
stretch out his hand."

"He may be a fool," she said, "to think it so near." Her colour was
high, her eyes shone. His own, narrowed and intense, held them.

"Do you know the name I give you in my private mind?" he asked her.
She shook her head.

"I call you Constant-Kind."

"And why do you call me that? Do you think I am kind to every one?"

"I think that you have been," said Karlsefne, "and I believe that you
would not willingly deny a service if you could do it."

"And what service do you ask of me?"

"Ah, I ask none as yet. But maybe I shall."

Certainly she knew what he wanted, and wondered whether he was the man
predicted. Thorberg had prophesied an ugly man for one of her
husbands. That could not be said of Karlsefne. He was not handsome by
any means, but so full of fun that he would pass anywhere as
well-looking. She had no love to give him; all that was buried with
her doomed Thorstan; and yet she could see life to be a very pleasant
thing with him beside her--a warm, sheltered, pleasant thing. She was
rather of Freydis's opinion after an experience of two kinds of life,
that a woman was happier in being loved than in loving. She had not
thought so when Thorstan was her lover. Then her triumph and pride had
been that she could give him inexhaustibly what he needed--but look how
that had ended. She said to herself: "He will be kind to me, because
he is kind by nature. I believe that is my nature too. Therefore I
can give him what he wants, and find some comfort in it. I have known
the highest, and that is enough for me. That will never come again.
Let the other suffice, if it will satisfy him." With that she put the
thought away in her heart, wishing to leave it there; yet she could not
resist taking it out and looking at it now and again. It was still
good to be loved, good to be desired, good to be the centre of a man's
thoughts. Every time she looked at her hoard it seemed a little
brighter.

Karlsefne took his time. It was close upon the spring when he asked
her if she would have him. She met his looks calmly, and told him what
she felt about it. "I am not very old yet," she said, "but I have had
a great deal of experience. I have been married twice, and loved
deeply once. That can never be again."

"Nay," he said, "I don't ask impossibilities of you. But I have love
enough in my heart for th