Ljot. I don't think you are getting old.
Sveinungi. Oh, yes, I feel it. Sometimes when I want to use this or that for my work I find that I have clean forgotten where I put it. That could never have happened when I was young; there was not a thing that slipped my mind. But what do you say, Ljot? Your mother thinks as I do, so it lies solely with you whether you will accept this happiness or not.
Ljot. I don't think I care for that happiness.
Sveinungi. You should weigh your words well before you speak. Perhaps you fancy there will be a wooer like Halfdan coming every day. But you don't mean that; you only mean that he must come and speak for himself.
Ljot. I am so young, father.
Sveinungi. You are past nineteen. There are many girls who marry at seventeen, and you have been so well taught that you can readily take your place at the head of a household. I need not be ashamed of you there, that's sure. And you will have your mother near you, for it is understood, of course, that you and Halfdan stay here with us. You will have your bridal now in the fall, and next spring you can take over the farm.
Ljot. But I scarcely know him at all!
Sveinungi. Your mother did not know me, and I can't see but that we two have lived happily together all these years. It is not always those who marry for what they call love who are happiest. Arne and I are friends from old times, and I have as good as given him my word.
Enter Jorunn from the house.
Ljot (straightening herself). You should not have done that without speaking to me.