Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1903-03-02

waited until the jewellers, splendid in shin
ing mail and gay-hued NANTES, clanked
out to their horses and rode away. When
the last of them shouted his farewell to
Sigurd and disappeared amid the shadows
of the wood path, Alvin arose and walked
slowly back to the deserted camp.
Even the sunset light had left 1t now;
soft grayness shut it in, away from the
world The air was full of night noises;
and high in the pines breeze was whisper
ing softly. Very softly and sWeetly, from
somewhere among the booths, the voice OF
the bond-girl arose in plaint1ve English
ballad.
Alvin recognized the melody with throb
that was half Of pleasure, half Of pain. In
the old days, Editha had sung that song.
Poor little gentle-hearted Editha! The last
time he had seen her, she had been borne
past him, white and unconscious, in the
arms Of one of the marauding Danes. He
shook himself fiercely to drive off the mem
DRY. Turning the corner OF Helga's booth,
he came suddenly upon the singer, slender
white-robed figure leaning in the shadow
of the doorway. Sigurd still lounged under
the trees, half doing, half listening.
As the thrall stepped out of the shadow
into the moonlight, the singer sprang to her
feet, and the song merged into great cry.
my lord Alvin
1t was Editha-herself.
Running to meet him. she dropped on her
| knees before him and began to kiss his
| hands and cry over them. "Oh, my dear
! lord she sobbed, you are so changed!
And your ha1r-your beaut1ful halr! On, II
is well that Earl Edmund and your lady
mother are dead-it would break their
] hearts as it does mine!' Forgetting her
| own plight, she wept bitterly over his,
though he tried with every gentle word to
| soothe her.
| 1t was a sad meeting; it could not be
otherwise The memory of their last ter
| rible parting, the bondage In which they
found each other. the shameful, hopeless
| future that stretched before them-it was
| all full of bitterness. When Editha went In
| at last. her poor little throat was bursting
| with sobs. Alvin sank down on the trunk
| of fallen tree and buried his head in his
| hands, and the first groan that his troubles
| had Wrung from him was forced now from
| his brave lips. 81 4
He had forgotten sigurd's presence. In
their preoccupations neither of them had
noticed the yoang Viking watching them
when hand fef1 tightly on his shoulder.
| "It appears to me-" came in Sigurd's
voice, that man should be merry when
he has just found friend"
| Alvin looked up AT him with eyes full OF
Merry! Would YOU be merry had you
| found Helga the drudge of an English
camp? He shook of the others hand with
But sigurd answering instantly, mo, /
| would look even biacker than you, II that
were possible the thrall was half ap-
peased
/
| him. and for while they sat in silence,
staring away where the moonlit river
| showed between the trees.
| At last Sigurd said dreamily: ut came to
| my mind while you two were talking how
uneyenly the Fates deal things. 1t appears
| from what the maiden said. that you are
the son Of an English jarl who has often
| fought the Mortimer. Now I am the son
of a Norwegian jarl who has not few
/ times met the English in battle. 1t would
| have been no more unlikely than what has
happened had I been the captive and you
| the victor"
THAT is true" said Alvin slowly. He
! did not say more. but in some odd way the
idea comforted and softened him. Neither
| Of the young men turned his eyes from the
river toward the other, yet in some way
| something friendly crept into their silence.
After a while Sigurd said. still without
looking around ut seems to me thai
the right-minded thing for me in this mat
ter rs to do what / should desire you