She put on her riding things—her habit was sadly too big for her now, but, after all, what did it matter? And Ketill and his wife set off for the trading station, reaching there just after Ørlygur himself.
Ormarr and Runa had already come ashore, and the party were about to set off for Borg when Ketill and Alma arrived on the scene. All three tried to conceal their astonishment: they had not expected Ketill.
He greeted them with outward calm, and they tried, for Alma’s sake, to appear as if there were nothing but good-will between them. But all three found it difficult to meet his glance. And Ketill smiled, as if with pleasure at the meeting, but in reality with malicious satisfaction at the evident impression his presence made. It was a tribute to his power. It would not be easy to get rid of him now.
Ørlygur was trembling, and had the greatest difficulty in controlling himself. Trouble was imminent now; of that he was certain. And he puzzled his brain to find the reason of Ketill’s appearance there—what had he to gain by it?
Ormarr took the child, and helped his wife into the saddle. He was very pale, and glanced covertly at Runa.
Alma came up to him.
“It is long since we met,” she said. And, noticing his pallor, she asked anxiously if he were “unwell.”
“It is nothing—I felt a little strange for the moment,” he said.
Ormarr, on his part, noted how changed Alma was, how ill and distressed. He was about to question her, but checked himself; best not, perhaps, to ask anything at all just now.
Alma read his intention, and understood that he wished to spare her. She felt she must hide the real cause, and gave only the more direct reason for her evident ill-health.