Runa lay wakeful long through the night. Ormarr’s unexpected return had thrown her into a state of confused emotion. The simultaneous arrival of Ketill seemed but of minor importance, though why this should be so, she could not have told herself.
She remembered Ormarr from his last visit home, and how she had felt drawn to him at the time. He, on the other hand, had not paid much attention to her, and was doubtless unaware of the impression he had made. To her, he was the greatest and best, the most wonderful of men; an ideal, inaccessible, but nevertheless to be worshipped.
Then he had gone away—vanished as suddenly as he had come, to live thenceforward only as a dream in her heart. And she was firmly convinced that he had never given her a thought. In this, as a matter of fact, she was right.
On learning of his arrival now, she had tried in every way to avoid him, to conceal herself from him. All the others might know, but Ormarr—no, that was too cruel. And now—he would learn it soon enough. His father would tell him, and he would know what she was—the very thought of it made her shudder. She was not what she appeared to be; she was nothing. She hated Ketill, and wished herself dead.
The thought of taking her own life had crossed her mind, but fear restrained her. Now the thought came up again, and when Ørlygur had whispered to her as he passed, whispered a thing she dared not understand, she made up her mind. There was no fear in her heart now, she had taken her decision.
Shortly after Ørlygur had retired, she rose up, dressed herself noiselessly, and crept along the passage towards the room where Ormarr slept. A light showed from beneath the door; evidently he was still awake. With bated breath she passed by, and crept from the house without a sound. She longed to look in through the window, just to see what he looked like—now. But she dared not risk it. She stepped cautiously and quietly until a little way from the house, then suddenly she broke into a run, and made away towards the place she had in mind....
Ormarr saw a woman come rushing down towards the river. His first impulse was to run towards her, but, realizing that she must pass close by where he stood, he remained motionless, waiting.
The woman checked her pace and stood for a moment with hands clasped to her breast. Then she bent down and, taking up one of the sacks that were strewn around, began filling it with stones. She felt its weight, and, apparently satisfied, tied up the mouth. No sound came from her lips.
In a flash Ormarr realized who it was, and what she had in mind. He saw her move down to the water’s edge, the sack in her hand. Then, rising, he called to her softly: