thought to that dark maiden of the brood of Ironbeard, I pray thee to desist. I warn thee that I can have no fellowship in such plan. Before that maiden was born, her father and her kinsmen were Olaf’s sworn enemies, and I would not see him wedded there for all Norway. Olaf is just the sort of a strong rough viking to be snared by a maiden, and if she have not smiles on her lips, love in her heart, and loyalty in her soul to give him, it were his ruin. So, my lady wife, beware, and keep this dark, unsmiling maiden out of the king’s thought and sight.”
“It is what I planned to do when thou first did speak, my lord. Thou dost think too roughly, and these be delicate matters, fit only for the hands and wits of women. I strove to make thee recall how looked the king, and how he spake over Gudrun; for I would know how far his thoughts have wandered there. My lord, our Olaf says his heart is full of Gyda. So he thinks, but my woman’s wit tells me he is no longer warming his heart with the pale image of her memory, but is turning to the living brightness around him in the smiles of our Norway maids. No need to tell him so. When it is winter, we sit around the fire and think of no better warmth, but when the summer steals into our chamber, we let the hearth grow cold and seek the great fires that the sun builds over the world. So the king is letting the fire of Gyda’s memory fade; and when he seeks the sun-
