Karlsefin laughed, and said, “You are too quick in jumping to conclusions, child. Perhaps I may go there; but you have not yet answered Gudrid’s question—would you like to go?”
“I would like it well,” replied Olaf, with a bright look of hopeful expectation that said far more than words could have expressed.
Just then Thorward was seen approaching along the beach. His brows were knit, his lips pursed, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He was so engrossed with his thoughts that he did not perceive his friends.
“Here he comes,” said Karlsefin—“in the blues evidently, for he does not see us.”
“We had better leave you to his company,” said Gudrid, laughing; “a man i’ the blues is no pleasure to a woman.—Come, Olaf, you and I shall to the dairy and see how the cattle fare.”
Olaf’s capacity for imbibing milk and cream being unlimited, he gladly accepted this invitation, and followed his aunt, while Karlsefin advanced to meet his friend.
“How now, Thorward, methinks an evil spirit doth possess thee!”
“An evil spirit!” echoed Thorward, with a wrathful look; “nay, a legion of evil spirits possess me! A plague on that fellow Biarne: he has poisoned the ears of Freydissa with lies about that girl Astrid, to whom I have never whispered a sweet word since we landed.”
“I trust you have not whispered sour words to her,” said Karlsefin, smiling.
“And Freydissa, forsooth, gives me the cold shoulder,” continued the exasperated Norseman, not noticing the interruption, “as if I were proved guilty by the mere assertion.”