the silver girdle at her waist. Olaf drew a quick sigh, and hesitated to call her. If she would only come to him and lay her hand upon his arm, and look trustingly up in his face, as any maiden might to her faithful lord, how glad his heart would be at even that little expression of love. But it all seemed foreign to the silent, dark woman, who sat so far away from him, and never allowed her eyes to meet his.
“Gudrun, come here!” The king’s voice was pleading, and not commanding.
She did not stir, and apparently the words had not reached her, or had failed to penetrate the cloud of dark thought that seemed to surround her. Olaf sent the words stronger across the space between them. “Gudrun, come here! I have a queen’s gift for thee.”
The girl rose, and moved towards him. Seeing her coming, Olaf turned to the box, and opened it, looking down into a nest of jewels that sent up sparkles of light, like an uncovered bed of fire. While his eyes rested on the jewels, Gudrun drew from the inner folds of her bodice a slender silver chain, and hid the gleaming dagger at its end in the lining of her long, flowing sleeve. She drew her long mantle closer about her, and stood beside the king, muttering as she moved: “It needs must be done quickly. My vow! my vow! I have sworn by the hammer of Thor and the serpents of Odin. Yet, if he should look so loving-kind upon me, I will forget my vow and fall at his feet.”
