Gudmund.
Nay, Margit, my meaning you read aright!
You were kind to me, both, in those far-away years—
Your eyes, when we parted were wet with tears.
We swore like brother and sister still
To hold together in good hap or ill.
'Mid the other maids like a sun you shone,
Far, far and wide was your beauty known.
You are no less fair than you were, I wot;
But Solhoug's mistress, I see, has forgot
The penniless kinsman. So hard is your mind
That ever of old was gentle and kind.
Margit.
[Choking back her tears.]
Aye, of old—!
Gudmund.
[Looks compassionately at her, is silent for a little, then says in a subdued voice.
Pass the time with talk of the dear old days?
Margit.
[Vehemently.]
No, no, not of them!
[More calmly.
Their memory's dead.
My mind unwillingly backward strays.
Tell rather of what your life has been,
Of what in the wide world you've done and seen.
Adventures you've lacked not, well I ween—
