A reaction of regret at her impetuosity came over her. It was a dreadful thing not to love and honour him. Oh, if only he would make it easier; turn round and nod to her kindly, or say a friendly word. She would be loving and forgiving at once. Who could say what troubles were burdening him all the time? And perhaps it was only to spare her that he said nothing. Men were strange in that way; they fancied that a woman suffered less in such estrangement if she did not learn the cause of it.
Then—oh, it was incredible! They were at the ford now, and he was riding through the stream without so much as a look behind him.... Well, perhaps there was nothing so strange in that, after all; possibly it had not occurred to him that she had never forded a stream on horseback in her life; it was only thoughtlessness on his part.
But all the same it was a hard struggle to keep her mind in any friendly attitude towards him, or to keep back the fears that would rise to her eyes. She bit her lips, and strove to restrain her feelings.
Her horse was already knee deep in the water—and the Hofsa at this part was wide, yet with a fairly strong current.
Alma had never ridden through running water before; at first it seemed to her as if the horse had suddenly flung itself sideways against the stream. Instinctively she leaned over herself, farther and farther, against the stream. Ketill, a couple of lengths in front, looked round just as she was about to fall, turned his horse, and seized her arm just in time.
The roar of the water, and a sense of dizziness in her head, rendered her unconscious for the moment. But the grip on her arm was hard, and a feeling of anger rose in her towards her husband. Again she restrained herself; it was perhaps only his firmness that had saved her; she forgot about his carelessness in riding ahead of her across the ford. Her kindly feelings were uppermost, and as soon as they had crossed to the farther bank, she turned to him, trying honestly to speak in a friendly tone, and asked:
“What is it, Ketill; what is the matter with you?”
“Nothing—nothing,” answered Ketill, and gave his horse a cut with the whip, so that the animal sprang forward a pace.
At that, Alma broke down entirely, and fell to sobbing helplessly; she was weary and desperate, unable to think, or even consciously to feel; she was alone in a great solitude, herself a solitary speck of misery in an endless expanse.