She began, “Dog! Thou darest——” but, checking herself, put her hands a moment to her face, then went up and down, up and down, like one distracted.
“Well, he wronged the King,” said Daukin.
She stopped before him, and his soul struggled against the fascination of the blue waters.
“What was that to his wrong of me?” she said passionately; and, as he gazed, he saw the waters brim. “O, Daukin!” she wept; “cannot you understand me?”
“Yes,” he said.
“And love me still?”
“I can love the truth,” he said, with a heartbroken sigh. “I have found it at last in the depths I have studied so long.”
When the King returned, the sternness of his white face belied his uttered commiseration. The Thane, he told his lady, had stumbled on his own boar-spear, and met with a mortal hurt.
“Long live the Queen!” said Daukin.
Edgar started, and his hand went to his dagger. Elfrida stumbled forward.