And as he told, Gudruda listened as one who hung upon her lover's dying
words, and there was but one light in the world for her, the light of
Eric's eyes, and there was but one music, the music of his voice. Now
she looked upon him sidelong no longer, but with open eyes and parted
lips she drank in his words, and always, though she knew it not herself,
she crept closer to his side.

Then he told her how he had been greatly honoured of the King of
England, and of the battles he had fought in at his side. Lastly, Eric
told her how the King would have given him a certain great lady of royal
blood in marriage, and how Edmund had been angered because he would not
stay in England.

"Tell me of this lady," said Gudruda, quickly. "Is she fair, and how is
she named?"

"She is fair, and her name is Elfrida," said Eric.

"And didst thou have speech with her on this matter?"

"Somewhat."

Now Gudruda drew herself away from Eric's side.

"What was the purport of thy speech?" she said, looking down. "Speak
truly, Eric."

"It came to little," he answered. "I told her that there was one in
Iceland to whom I was betrothed, and to Iceland I must go."