A flush went across her fair face, and then she greeted me
brightly. I did not know what she had been told of tomorrow as yet,
and could not tell from her face whether she knew or not. So I
thought it best to ask.
"Have you heard aught from the king as to your going back to the
old home yet, Gerda?"
"Yes," she said, standing still and looking somewhat pitifully at
me. "And he says that it shall be at once. But I fear how he may
send me back."
"He will give you ship and men, and so see that there is no chance
of any great trouble with Arnkel."
"Aye--but--but, Malcolm, he says that he needs must find someone
who will help me hold the land. Who will that be, for he can spare
so few?"
"I think that he will let you make your own choice," I answered.
"If I might--" she said, and there stopped, seeming troubled.
Then I said, "And if you might, who would be the choice?"
She looked at me and paled, and then looked away at the berries
again. She stooped to pick one, and her face was away from me.
"I think it is cruel to ask that," she said in a low voice. "I have
no one here whom I know--save you, and Bertric."
I moved a pace nearer to her, but still she did not look up. The
crimson berries she bent over were no excuse for the colour of her
face at that moment, and I feared I had angered her.
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