As the abbess shut out the picture in the closing of the door, the pilgrim turned to her pleadingly. “Dear Lady Abbess, I am not worthy to be her lord.”
“I have bade her come to thee as to a poor pilgrim and stranger.”
“I have dreamed of her,” said the pilgrim, very humbly, “under the stars at sea, and toiling over the mountain passes. In every strange land, I have dreamed and longed to find her. Sometimes I did believe she would not remain faithful tome. I have thought of her beside some powerful lord of Erik’s court.”
“As she might have been save that she would hear of no other lord save her wandering one; and of late, since the jarls of Erik’s court have spoken her name so often, she hath kept close to me, in this quiet shelter. Now will she come to thee, thinking of thee as some poor, blind, and homeless pilgrim, to give thee food and drink.”
The abbess turned and left the room. The pilgrim sank down in his seat. He trembled as if a chill had seized him, and his heart was throbbing quickly.
Softly the door opened. Maidoch, carrying some food upon a server, entered. She placed the food upon a table, and turning towards the pilgrim said:
“I have brought thee some refreshment, holy man.” The pilgrim rose with a start. As he stood up, Maidoch drew back, as if in fright. A faintness swept over her, swiftly followed by a rush of overpowering
