Sera Ketill had endeavoured once or twice to smile during his father’s outburst, but it was more for the sake of preserving his self-control that he had tried to consider the matter in a humourous light. As Ørlygur rode away, he stood with bowed head, set teeth, and frowning brow; then with an effort he pulled himself together, striving to regain his normal air of priestly authority.
When, a few minutes later, he encountered Alma, he said:
“My father was very busy, and could not come in. He told me to give you his kind regards. Ormarr is leaving tomorrow—going abroad, so they have much to do at Borg.”
“So that is why Ormarr did not come to church?”
“Yes, naturally.”
“But surely he will come and say good-bye?”
“It is hardly likely. He is only going away for a short time, and when he comes back he will live at Borg.”
“It will be nice to have him so near. But what about his business?”
“He has sold it, so my father tells me. As a matter of fact, this voyage is a sort of honeymoon. He is going to marry Runa, father’s adopted daughter, and she is going with him. We did not see her yesterday.”