" She stamped her foot at the united ministry of the
Kingdom as she turned her back upon its representatives to speak reassuringly
to her mistress.
Her lover did not blame her that her flashing eyes seemed to include him among
the objects of their wrath. He said fiercely to the Jarl, "For God's sake,
tell her that no one suspects her of seeking his life, and give her his true
message, or I will go and hang myself for loathing."
"Tell her yourself!" the old Dane snapped. "It is seen that you are as
rabbit-hearted as the boy who makes her such an offer. Were I in his place, I
would have them all drowned for a litter of wauling kittens." He looked very
much indeed like a wolf in a sheepfold as he stamped to and fro, grinding his
spurred heels into the patches of clover and growling in his beard.
The young soldier had been known to ride into battle with a happier face, but
the sudden gritting of his teeth implied that he would do anything to get the
matter over with; and having braved the outburst of hysterics that redoubled
at his approach, he managed to slip a soothing word into the lull.
"Lady, the King sends you none but good greetings. It would make you feel
better if you would listen to them."
"Then he-- he does not blame me for this?" Elfgiva quavered at last.
"He does not blame you," the Marshal hastened to reassure her.
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