hall. The jarl looked after her
curiously and sadly.

"This is a strange business for the girl," he said.

"She seems almost as troubled because you are not fighting as if
you were in danger by doing so," I answered, with that thought
still in my mind.

Thereat the jarl stared at me.

"What has put that into your head?" he asked.

I told him what she and I had said, adding that I feared I had
seemed to hint somewhat discomforting.

Then said Osmund, looking in my face with a half smile:

"She is glad I am honourably out of this business, and the trouble
is not that. There are one or two, maybe, whom she would like to
see as safe in the same way."

Then it flashed through my dull mind that perhaps I was one of
these, and the thought was pleasant to me.

"Well," I said, "there are the thane, and his young son, the king's
page, who is here. They have been very kind to her."

"Also a wandering king who took her out of danger," he said then.

"Ay; I shall be glad if she thinks of me."

There were a little laugh and a rustling behind us, and one said:

"Either you are the least conceited of men or the blindest, King
Ranald, or you would know what is amiss."

I turned, and saw the Lady Etheldreda herself, and I bowed to her
in much confusion.

"O you men!" she said. "Here you will let the poor girl break her
heart in silence, while you fight for glory, or somewhat you think
is glory, without a word to say that you care that she shall see
what you win. Of course she thinks of you, even night and day. How
else should it be, when you have been as a fairy prince to her?"

Then I knew for myself that among all the wild life of Athelney and
the troubles of the king the thought of Thora had been pleasant to
me; but now I was confused, having the matter brought home to me
suddenly, and, as it were, before I was ready to shape all my
thoughts towards her. So all that I could say was foolish enough.

"I am a poor sort of fairy prince, lady."

"Ay," she said; "I am as good a fairy godmother, maybe. And perhaps
I should have said nothing--at this time. But, Ranald, the maiden
weeps for your danger, for, at the very least, she owes you much."

Then I said, humbly as I felt:

"That is more honour to me than I deserve."

"That is for her to say," answered the fair lady, turning to where
Osmund had been.

But he was now in the doorway, looking out again to the hills. So
she was silent, and I thought of somewhat.