“Feargus, O Feargus! what dost thou here? If the men of Sigmund do but see thee, then neither I nor any other can save thee.”
“Then thou art of a mind, sweet Torfrida, to save the enemy of Sigmund and the conqueror of the Christians.”
“Thou hast wronged me if ever thou hast thought that I could betray thee; but what brings thee here?” she added, with a woman’s disingenuousness.
“Thyself, Torfrida.”
“Myself!”
“Nay now, thou well knowest ’tis thyself; never since the day thy father took thee away has there been any joy in the world for Feargus, nor will be till thou art back.”
“Back, ah! that I will never be, noble Feargus, slayer of Christians though thou art—but get thee hence, for hast thou not broken Penda’s bidding by coming into this land?”
“That have I, and that must I again, if I may not see thee without, for thou, Torfrida, hast the heart of Feargus.”
“And thou that of Torfrida.”