“Thy foster-father.”
“Methinks we are safe enough here,” she said, with a gesture of impatience.
“Aye, if we win the day, but not if we lose it,” said the old man.
“Come,” said Hilda, “we must obey our father.”
“I have no intention of disobeying him,” retorted the other, tossing her head.
Just then Alric ran up with a look of anxiety on his swelled and blood-stained face.
“Come, girls, ye are in the way here. Haste—ah! here comes Erling—and Glumm too.”
The two young men ran up the hill as he spoke.
“Come with us quickly,” cried Erling; “we do not wish the King’s people to see anyone on this mound. Let me lead thee down, Hilda.”
He took her by the hand and led her away. Glumm went forward to Ada, whose old spirit was evidently still alive, for she glanced at the hermit, and appeared as if inclined to put herself under his protection, but there was something in Glumm’s expression that arrested her. His gruffness had forsaken him, and he came forward with an unembarrassed and dignified bearing. “Ada,” he said, in a gentle but deliberate voice, while he gazed into her face so earnestly that she was fain to drop her eyes, “thou must decide my fate now. To-day it is likely I shall fight my last battle in my fatherland. Death will be abroad on the fiord, more than willing to be courted by all who choose to woo him. Say, dear maid, am I to be thy protector or not?”