atitude.

The look she met in return was the same look of mingled strength and
gentleness which had come through the starlight to answer her question.
Once again that calm of weary trustfulness settled over her. Since he
had saved her from the dead, she had no doubt whatever of his ability
to save her from the living. Her head drooped against his arm, and her
hands, ceasing their struggles, rested in his grasp like folded wings.

It had not taken a moment; the instant Norman finished his explanation,
the Etheling was speaking quietly: "As the Lord of Baddeby says, King
Edmund, it was I who stayed the boy's hand, and it was I also who
fetched him into camp. I found him after the battle, bleeding his life
out in the bushes, and I brought him in my arms, like a kitten, and
dropped him down by my fire. Waking in the night and missing him, I
traced him hither. As I have had all to do with him in the past, so, if
you will grant that I may keep him, will I take his future upon me. With
your consent, I will attend to it that he does no more mischief."

A momentary cordiality came into the King's manner; as though
recognizing it for the first time, he turned to the figure across the
fire with a courteous gesture. "My lord of Ivarsdale! I am much beholden
to you. Had any chance wrought evil to the Lord of Baddeby while
under my safeguard, my honor would have been as deeply wounded as my
feelings."

As he bowed in acknowledgment, some embarrassment was visible in
Sebert's manner; but he was spared a reply, for after a moment's rubbing
of his chin, the King continued,--

"As regards the boy, however, there is something besides his knife to be
taken into consideration. I think we run more risk from his tongue."

The words of the Earl's thane fairly grazed the heels of the King's
words: "The imp can do no otherwise than harm, my sovereign. Should he
bring his tongue to Danish ears, he could cause the utmost evil. For the
safety of the Earl of Mercia,--ay, for your own need,--I entreat you to
deliver the boy up to my keeping."

"I am no less able than the Lord of Baddeby to restrain him," the
Etheling said with some warmth. "If it be your pleasure, King Edmund, I
will keep him under my hand until the end of the war, and answer for his
silence with my life."

Then Norman's eagerness got the better of his discretion.

"Now, by Saint Dunstan," he cried, "you take too much upon you, Lord of
Ivarsdale! The boy's life is forfeit t