“And then your horse.”
“Will you not forgive?”
“And of me last,” she persisted, trying to escape from my arms.
“It was because with them I won you,” I whispered.
“I shall be jealous of your sword.”
“No more,” I cried, drawing it from the scabbard. “’Tis a pretty piece of steel, but, if it should come between us, see----”
I raised it high in the air, my hands on either end.
“I’ll snap it in twain.”
I brought the weapon half way down, as though I would break it across my knee.
“Nay! Nay! Edward!” she exclaimed, catching my arm. “I did but jest. Put it up. There is need of a sword in this land.”