“She said that she would give it me were the youth and the maiden of the forest the same as the atheling and his sister,” said Ethelred, merrily. “So ye see that it is hers only by my will.”
“And it is thy will, is it not?” insinuated Alfred’s son, gently.
“Nay, brother,” spoke Ethelfleda, who was of sterner mold than the atheling, “if the maiden hath promised it, the word should be kept.”
“And that right gladly,” said Egwina. “Little did I reck when I spake that ye were the same, but it delights me to have met with you again. Take the chain, Ethelred, and may it bring to pass thy every wish.”
“No, Egwina;” and the youth returned it. ”I did but sport with thee. I wish not thy chain, though I thank thee for thy good wishes.“
“But I gave thee my word,” said the maiden. “I like not to break it. Prithee take it, Ethelred.”
But Ethelred shook his head.
“This is the solution,” and Ethelfleda took up the chain. “Thou, Egwina, shall have the chain, and Ethelred the amulet which gives him his desires.”
“Wise art thou, Ethelfleda. Worthy to be thy father’s daughter!” said Ethelred, taking the amulet. “I take it with thy well wishes, Egwina, and from thee, Ethelfleda, that I may realize a wish that hath lately sprung up in my heart.”
“Art thou pleased, Egwina?” asked Ethelfleda.