“No vows for me,” said Elfric, “but vows to serve my country, and vows to love thee, oh Mildred! I was not meant to be a cloister-monk—albeit, if the Normans had not come into the fen country, and I had never been sent on the business of the Spalding cell to the house of thy mistress, and had never seen thee, fair Mildred, I might in all possibility have submitted quietly to the manner of life which had been chosen for me. But these accidents which have happened have made me feel that I love fighting better than praying, and loving much better than fasting. My superiors have all come to the same conclusion, and have liberated me, and have given me to the brave and bountiful Lord Hereward to be his page and sword-bearer, and whatsoever he may please to make me.” Maid Mildred tried to check her tongue, and to look composed or indifferent; but not being well practised in the art of concealing her feelings, she set up a cry of joy, and then falling on her knees she inwardly and silently thanked heaven that Elfric was not to be a monk, or one that could not be loved by her without sin. Perhaps the ex-novice understood what was passing in her mind; and perhaps he did not: for when he raised her up by her hand, and kept her hand closed within his own, and looked in her bright blue eyes, he said, “Mildred, art thou glad, indeed, at this my change of condition? Art thou, indeed, happy that I should be a soldier, fighting for the good English cause, and a sword-bearer constantly in attendance on the brave and bountiful Lord of Brunn, to go wherever he goeth, and to dwell with him in mansion and hall, when the battle is over and the camp struck; or wouldst thou have me back in the house at Spalding, and a monk for all my days?” “It seemeth to me that when devout and learned men have opined that thou art fitter for a soldier than for a monk, it is not for a weak unlettered maid like me to gainsay it. In sooth thou lookest marvellously well in that soldier jerkin and baldric; and that plumed cap becomes thy merry face better than the hood. Thou carriest that sword too by thy side with a better grace than ever thou didst carry missal or breviary. But—but—alack and woe the while!—soldiers get killed and monks do not! Elfric, thou wert safer in thy cell.”