"Yes," said Alwin.
For days he had been watching her with uneasy pity, whenever in his mind's eye he saw her in the power of the unscrupulous trader, It had made him uncomfortable to feel that he was the tool that had brought it about, even though he knew he was as innocent as the bark on which he had written.
Drop by drop the blood sank out of Helga's face. Spark by spark, the light died out of her eyes. Like some poor trapped animal, she sat staring dully ahead of her.
It was more than Alwin could bear in silence. He leaned forward and shook her arm. "Lady, do anything rather than despair. Get into a rage with me,—though Heaven knows I never intended your misfortune! Yet it is natural you should feel hard toward me. I—"
She stared at him dully. "Why should I be angry with you? You could not help what you did; and Leif thought I would wish rather to go to my own mother than to Thorhild."
It had never occurred to Alwin that she would be reasonable. His remorse became the more eager. He bethought himself of some slight comfort. "At least it cannot happen for a year, lady. And in—"
She raised her head quickly. "Why can it not happen for a year?"
"Because Gilli is away on a trading voyage, and will not be back until fall, when it will be too late to start for Greenland. Nor will he come early in spring and so lose the best of his trading season. It is sure to be more than a year."
Youth can construct a lifeboat out of a straw. Hope crept back to Helga's eyes.
"A year is a long time. Many things can happen in a year. Gilli may be slain,—for every man a mistletoe-shaft grows somewhere. Or I may marry someone in Greenland. Already two chiefs have asked my hand of Leif, so it is not likely that I shall lack chances."