Part 4 (2/2)
She smiled in spite of her compa.s.sion, but she said, ”Oh, brodhor, you know he is only a poor boy. If it had been one of the others it would not have mattered so much; but Gloy Winwick is a poor widow's son, and an only son, and it seems just a little--horrid.”
”I never thought of it that way,” Yaspard said, looking very crestfallen; ”but it can't be helped now, any way. However, I'll make it up to him afterwards. He shan't lose by this, I tell you.”
Signy twined her arms round his neck, and whispered softly, ”Brodhor, is it quite--quite right, do you think, to do what Uncle Brus would be very angry about?”
”I don't think it's _wrong_ any way,” the lad replied. ”I haven't disobeyed uncle, and I haven't told any stories. I've only---- There, Signy; if it seems a mean or deceitful thing I've done, I'll set that right in a jiffy. I'll just go and tell Uncle Brus about it myself.”
”How brave you are, brodhor! How straight you go at things, to be sure!”
”And how round the corner and round my neck you go with things, Mootie-ting!” laughed he; then more gravely asked, ”Where is uncle, do you know?”
”He is out, as usual, after specimens: he has been out a long time.”
”Oh, well, I'll tell him when he comes.”
[1] ”Had,” the den of a wild animal.
CHAPTER VI.
”NOW EACH GOES HIS WAY.”
Some hours later Mr. Adiesen appeared at his own door laden with blocks of serpentine, fragments of lichen, moss, seaweed, and sh.e.l.ls. Yaspard followed him into a little room which was doing duty as a study until the Den was restored to order, and as the scientist put down his treasures the lad said--in a trembling voice, be it confessed--”I want to tell you about something, uncle; something I've been doing.”
”Well, go on,” said Mr. Adiesen, not looking up, and in a very grim tone.
”I--I--there used to be--I've heard you say--that our ancestors were Vikings; and I--I thought I'd be--a Viking.”
Yaspard got so far, and stuck. It was hard to go on telling of his romantic fancy and wild escapade with that grave face before him.
”You thought you'd be a Viking,” Mr. Adiesen repeated calmly, then paused, and asked in ice-cold tones, ”Well, what else do you wish to say?”
”I think it right to tell you--I feel I ought--even about what--I mean--in fun;--but, uncle,” and again poor Yaspard came to a deadlock, and might never have made a satisfactory confession if help had not come to him in the form of Signy.
She had been hovering about the door in much trepidation, and, fearing that her brother's courage might fail him, she stole to his side, put her hand in his, looked fearlessly at Uncle Brus, and said--
”He has not done anything to be ashamed of, uncle; only we thought you ought to know, because it came out of the feud partly.”
The Laird's brows came together in a frown, but he was very fond of Signy. She was his one ”weakness,” Aunt Osla said, and said truly.
”Let Yaspard speak for himself, my dear,” her uncle answered gently, while his grim feature relaxed as he looked at her; and the boy, braced by the touch of the little hand in his, blurted out--
”I wanted to know the lads of Lunda, and have some fun, as they have and most boys have; and I couldn't be friends with them because you had forbidden that, so I took up the feud in a sort of way on my own account, and determined to make raids upon them, and have fights (sham-fights) and do as the Vikings did--in a kind of play, of course.
They are the enemy; and we could make-believe to slaughter and capture each other, and----”
Mortal man could stand no more than that. Mr. Adiesen, drawing his brows together savagely to hide his strong inclination to burst into laughter, called his nephew by some not complimentary names, and dismissed him abruptly, saying, ”Go along with you, and take your fun any way you please. Only remember--no friends.h.i.+ps with Lunda folk.
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