I began to wish that I had brought Thorgils home with me, for it was plain that I should have to go over all this too often, and he cared not at all how many times he told the same tale.
At last I was able to find a chance of asking how fared the lady Elfrida, and at that the ealdorman laughed.
"What, has not all this put that foolishness out of your head ?" he said.
"No, it has not," I answered pretty shortly.
But all the same, the old thought that I had remembered her less than I would have it known did flash across me for a moment.
"Well, I will send for her, and she will tell you for herself how she fares." He sent, and then in about half an hour she came, just as I was thinking I would wait no longer.

And if she had been stiff with me in the orchard it was even more so now, and I did not seem to get on with her at all.

She said, indeed, that she was glad to see me back, but in no way could I think that she looked more so than any one else I had met.
So we talked a little, and then all of a sudden her father said: "Ho!--Here comes that South Saxon again." Then at once a blush crept slowly over her fair face, and she tried not to look toward the great door in vain, though no one came in, and presently she was gone with but a few words to me.

I did not like this at all, but the ealdorman laughed at her and then at me, the more that he saw that I was put out.
"Never mind, Oswald," he said.

"That vow of yours pledged you to no more than duty to any fair lady." "Maybe it is just as well that it did not," I answered, trying to laugh also.
"Ay, that is right.