“I promise,” said Erling, with an amused glance.
“It is for Glumm.”
“For Glumm!” repeated Erling in surprise; “does Glumm then know—”
“Know what?” asked Ada, as Erling stopped abruptly.
“Does he know that thou art making this belt for him?”
“Know it? why, how could it be a secret if he knew it?”
“Ah, true, I—well?”
“Besides,” continued Ada, “I am not making it; I said I was going to ornament it. Now it is with reference to that I would consult thee.”
Here Ada became so deeply absorbed in the mysteries of ornamental armour that she constrained Erling at least to appear interested, although, poor man, his heart was behind him, and he had much difficulty in resisting the desire to turn round when he heard Hilda’s voice—which, by the way, was heard pretty constantly, for Glumm was so uncommonly gruff and monosyllabic in his replies that she had most of the talking to herself.
This unpleasant state of things might have lasted a considerable time, had not the party reached the path which diverged to the left, and, crossing the river over a narrow bridge composed of two tall trees thrown across, led to Glummstede. Here Erling stopped suddenly, and wheeling round, said: