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Liljencrantz, Ottilie A. (Ottilia Adelina), 1876-1910

"The Ward of King Canute; a romance of the Danish conquest"

If it had happened that I had gone with Rothgar's
messenger that night, you would have remembered me only as one who could
entertain you when it was your wish to laugh. But now, since it has been
allowed me to endure suffering with you and to share your mind when it was
bitterest, you have given me a place in your heart. And to-morrow, when we go
forth together, and the Dane slays me with you because it will be open to him
then that for your sake I have become unfaithful to him, you will remember our
fellowship even to--"
But Sebert's hand silenced the tremulous lips. "No more, youngling! I adjure
you by your gentleness," he whispered unsteadily. "You owe me no such love;
and it makes my helplessness a thousand-fold more bitter. Say no more, little
comrade, if you would not turn my heart into a woman's when it has need to be
of flint. Sit you here on the ledge the while that I take one more turn. You
will not? Then come with me, and we will make the round together, and apply
our wits once more to the riddle. Until swords have put an end to me, I shall
not cease to believe that it has an answer."
Below, in the dense blackness of the forest, an occasional owl sounded his
echoless cry. From still deeper in the dark, where the Danish camp-fires
glowed, a harp-note floated up on the wind with a fragment of wild song. But
it was many a long moment before the silence that hovered over the doomed
Tower was broken by any sound but the measured tramp of the sentinels.


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