line, and hastened to forestall it. "It
is not worth while to tell me further about the matter. Do you not see
that it is by no means the same? I shall be a Danish woman among Danish
men. I shall not be a captive, to be made a drudge of and beaten. It is
altogether different. I shall be with my own people, my own King. Let
us end this talk. Give me the bread and let me go. The sun is getting
high."

She glanced at it as she spoke, and found it so much higher than she had
realized that her haste increased.

"No, I dare not wait for it. It is necessary that I get a good start, or
they will overtake me. They are to join Canute near Scoerstan; I heard
it talked among them. My horse is somewhat heavy in his movements, for
he is the one Gram rode yesterday; I found him grazing by the road. Let
me go, Sister Wynfreda. Bid me farewell and let me go."

Clutching at her belt, her arm, her cloak, the nun strove desperately to
detain her. "Randalin! Listen! Alas! how you grieve me by talking after
this manner! Wait, you do not understand. It is not their cruelty I fear
for you. Child, listen! It is not their blows--"

But Randalin had wrenched herself free. "Oh, fear, fear, fear!" she
cried impatiently. "Fear your enemies; fear your friends; fear your
shadow! Old women are afraid of everything! You will see when I come
back. No, no, do not look at me like that; I do not mean to behave
badly toward you, but it will become a great misfortune to me ii I am
hindered; it will, in truth. See now; I will kiss you--here where your
cheek is softest. I cannot allow you to take hold of my cloak again.
There! Now lay your hand upon my head, as you do with the children when
you wish them good luck."

Because there was nothing else to do, and because the thought of
doing this gave her some comfort, Sister Wynfreda complied. Laying her
trembling hands upon the bared black head, she raised her despairing
face to heaven and prayed with all the earnestness that was hers. Then
she stood at the gate in silence and watched the girl set forth. As
Randalin turned into the sunny highway, she looked back with a brave
smile and waved her cap at the faded figure under the arch. But the nun,
left in the moss-grown garden, wrapped in the peace of the grave, saw
her through a blur of tears.

"God guard you, my fledgeling," she whispered over and over. "My prayers
be as a wall around you. My love go with you as a warm hand in your
loneliness. God keep yo