Life was a void to her; she had no desire in life but to cease living. Listlessly she saw the days go by, the burden of her sorrow ever increasing.
But those around her paid little heed; they had seen so many young mothers who seemed to think themselves laden with all the trouble of all the world.
Ørlygur à Borg noticed her condition, and saw, too, that she took no pleasure in the prospect. His heart was touched at the thought, and his tenderness towards her increased. Often on Sundays he would arrive some time before the service, in order to see her, and if he could, console her a little.
They went to church together, the old man and the young woman; Alma still sat in her old place beside his. And she was grateful for his kindness and friendliness; he seemed to her the most lovable man she had ever known.
One Sunday, just before church, Ketill happened to return to the house, and found his father’s overcoat hanging in the hall. The lining was outward, and the corner of an envelope showed in the pocket.
Ketill glanced round, listened, and seized the letter, slipped into a room close by and closed the door behind him.
Hurriedly he read the message through. It was Ormarr’s letter telling of the birth of Runa’s child.
Ketill’s hands trembled, and his face flushed. With a nervous laugh he thrust the letter into his pocket. Then, as by an afterthought, he took it out again, stood for a moment irresolute, and making sure he was not observed, put it back in the coat from which he had taken it.
He went back to join his father and Alma, in the sitting-room, trying hard to appear unmoved. But he felt he could not quite control himself, and began fumbling among some papers on the writing-table. He was still thus occupied when the bell rang for the last time. His wife and Ørlygur would have waited for him, but he bade them go on, saying he would follow immediately.
Ketill waited till their steps had died away, then hurried out to the hall; he knew he was now alone in the house. He took down the coat, and let it fall to the ground, where it might seem to have slipped from the peg. Then he took the letter from the envelope, and laid it unfolded by the coat, as if it had fallen out.