'Did you speak to him?'
'He gave me no chance. I have not seen him sincesincehe looked at me so,' said Hazel.
'Maybe he had his own part to bear,' said the old woman. 'But Olaf will be back again in a few days.'
'Yes,'said the girl slowly,'that makes no difference. He has given me up.'
'Love doesn't give up,' said Gyda. 'He asked me, a few days ago, to pray for him, that he might be strong to do right. I wot, it'll be an easier part then he thought of!'
But the words touched a sore spot. 'No,' the girl thought to herself. 'Love does not give up!' She sat very white and still. Then, after a while, looked up at Gydaone of her fair looks.
'You did not know,' she said gently, 'that he was asking you to pray against me.'
Gyda met her eyes, first without replying; her hand left Wych Hazel's shoulder and came upon her hair, touching it softly. That old, brown, wrinkled face was so sweet and quiet that it seemed a very stronghold of comfort and counsel and help. Counsel and comfort came in a very simple form this time.
'Dear,' she said, in her slow utterance,'he loves you.'
But Hazel was not inclined to debate that question with anybody but herself. She leaned her head back and shut her eyes, finding curious soothing in the touch of Gyda's hand. Nobody ever touched her so in these days, and she had been very, very lonely. Then suddenly she started up, sitting forward and speaking eagerly.