"This silver is the price of atonement for the death of Olaf—will you take it?"
He took the bag, weighed it in his hand, and answered slowly,—
"This is a small atonement for a brother's death."
She gave a little start back, her pride stung to the quick, and he heard her breath come fast.
Suddenly he dropped the bag, stepped from under the shadow of the door, and cried in his natural voice,—
"I must have you too, Osla!"
She started this time indeed, and for an instant the shock of surprise took thoughts and words away.
"Vandrad!" she cried faintly, and then she was trembling in King
Estein's arms.
"Nay," he said, "no longer Vandrad, but rather Estein the Lucky!
Forgive me, Osla, for deceiving you before; but then, in truth,
fate had treated me so ill that I cared not to have it known that
I was son to the King of Sogn."
A little later he said,—