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174 his harp, and sang through the dying of the Norwegian day.

“I like not the maiden, Sigvalde,” the Lady Aastrid declared.

“I do not recall her,” the old earl answered shortly, although be knew but one maiden who fitted Olaf’s description.

Lady Aastrid’s noble face was clouded, “It was Gudrun, the daughter of Ironbeard,” she said slowly, as if hesitating to believe it herself. “Aye, it was Gudrun, dark and tall, and all unsmiling, and without the gentle shyness of a young maid.”

Earl Sigvalde listened in silent satisfaction. Surely King Olaf was walking to his fate with rapid steps.

When Earl Sigvalde returned from his visit to the king, he had repeated such portions of the conversation as he thought best. Knowing Olaf’s strong will, he did not hesitate to tell his wife what the king had said concerning Gudrun, for he knew that if Olaf’s fancy fell upon Ironbeard’s daughter, no consideration of prudence would prevent his marriage.

So the earl watched his wife, while she revealed her alarm so plainly, and she questioned him very closely as to each word of the king, and she studied each saying deeply.

“I tell thee, my lady, it were only a foolish gossip to repeat it.” Sigvalde’s memory had been so taxed to recall each word of the king that he was growing