as part of it is right, King
of the Danes. Certainly I came here with no thought of evil toward you,
but neither had I any thought soever of the Lady Randalin, of whose
existence I was ignorant. I answered the call of Fridtjof Frodesson, to
whom I owe and I pay all the service which lies in my power,--as it is
likely you know."

Did his voice soften as he recalled his debt? Randalin ventured to
steal a glance at his face,--then her own clouded with puzzlement. No
haughtiness was in it, but a kind of impatient pain, and now he winced
under the smart and stirred restlessly in his place. The lightness of
the King's voice grated on her ear.

"Then I think you must have got surprised, if this is true, which seems
impossible."

The Etheling answered almost impatiently, "If your mind feels doubt of
it, Lord Canute, you have but to ask your foster-brother, who conducted
me hither."

A while longer, Canute's keen eyes weighed him; then their sky was
cleared of the last cloud. The best expression of which his brilliant
face was capable was on it as he turned and held out his hand to the
girl beside him.

"Shall we pledge our friendship anew, Frode's daughter?" was all he
said; but she knew from his look that he had taken her under his shield
for all time to come; and it was something to know, now when her world
seemed falling about her. For an instant, as she yielded her trembling
fingers to his palm, her groping spirit turned and clung to him, craving
his sympathy.

It seemed that he divined the appeal, for with the hand that pressed
hers he drew her forward a step. "Is it not your wish to speak to the
Lord of Ivarsdale yourself and thank him for keeping his troth with
Fridtjof?" he said kindly; and without waiting for an answer, moved
away and joined a group of those who had been his companions before the
interruption.

At last she stood face to face with the man she loved, face to face, and
alone. And still he neither spoke to her nor looked at her! So strange
and terrible was it all that it gave her resolution to speak and end
it. Her Viking blood could not color her cheeks, but her Viking courage
found her a whisper in which to offer her plea for the "sun-browned
boy-bred wench."

"Lord, it is difficult to know whether or not to expect your friendship,
for--for I have heard what your mind feels toward most matters--and you
see now what I have done--"

Did he wince again? She paused in astonishment. It could not