light died out of her shining eyes. Her troth! Her promise of betrothal, next in its solemn sense of truth to the marriage vow. All the strong lessons of Holy Mother Church, the sacred meaning of her promise to Thorgills, came to her in that moment. The woman’s soul in her awoke—not to love, but to duty; and sorrowfully, as one might shut down the coffin-lid upon the beloved, Maidoch shut out the vision and the hope of ever seeing her own land.
Not quite understanding the meaning of the girl’s silence, Lady Aastrid repeated encouragingly: “Of a surety, Thorgills will release thee from thy troth.”
“Dear Lady Aastrid! my own soul would not release me. I am my Lord Thorgills’ betrothed bride, and God helping me, I will be his faithful wile, in whatever day he shall bid me come to him.”
Then, as if there were no argument to be made, Maidoch gathered up her skeins of wool and went to her room.
A few days later, Thorgills and Maidoch were married,—Father Reachta pronouncing the solemn words that made them man and wife.
Without, in the wind of spring, the ship was setting sail for Ireland, and the voice of the priest came to Maidoch with the shouts and the cheers of the crew, as the sails were unfurled and the ship began her course.
Oh, the hushed heroisms of a woman’s heart! Maidoch uttered her imperishable vows, and bound
