"Aye, I have a search that has been made hard for me," I said somewhat bitterly. "Truly I had not thought of falling; but it is in my mind that little grief will be in that quarter if I do so. Those who might have ended the search in an hour or two have kept their charge more deeply hidden than ever from me."
"Is that the maiden's doing, think you?" she said, hesitating a little, for the question was not an easy one for her to put, maybe. But it was like her to make excuse for others.
"I cannot tell," said I, "but I think it likely. We were but children, and she fears me now."
"That is to be seen," she said; "but I hope that you will find her. What shall you do if--if she loves you not now?"
"I would let her go free, surely."
"Even if you found you loved her yet?"
"Aye. I would not hold her bound were she unwilling."
"But if it were the other way--if she would wed you willingly, and you--well, were unwilling?"
"I would keep troth," said I; "she should not know it."
She laughed softly and answered: