As Ketill finished, Ormarr rose to leave the church. Passing by the pulpit, he looked straight at his brother; both men were deadly pale. Ormarr stood still for a moment, and said:
“You are playing a dangerous game, brother Ketill.” Then he passed on.
But now Ørlygur rose to his feet, Alma still clinging to his arm, and called out in a loud, firm voice:
“Ormarr!”
Ormarr stopped, looked back, and strode to his father’s side.
Alma still held the old man’s arm. She clung to him, and begged imploringly: “Do not leave me here; take me back with you to Borg. Let me come with you and stay with you there.”
Ørlygur patted her trembling hands, and said gently; “Ormarr will look after you, my dear.” And to Ormarr he said: “Go with her home, and protect her, whatever happens. Do not let her leave Borg unless by her own desire. Be kind to her, my son. And now go, both of you. I will come presently.”
But Alma held Ormarr back, and they did not leave the church.
Ørlygur had followed them down the aisle toward the door. Then he turned back, not noticing that they remained inside the church. When he had left them, old Kata emerged from her corner, and going up to Ormarr, asked: “May I come with you to Borg and stay?”
Alma caught her hand, and Ormarr nodded in consent. Alma was trembling pitifully; Ormarr and Kata had to support her.