“You must bear the maid my thanks for thinking of me still,” he stammered. “Almost I was afraid she had forgotten me.”
Kristin paused a little. She knew not what she should say, which might seem to come from the flighty Ingebjörg and yet might tell Erlend her meaning. Then there welled up in her the bitterness of all these months of helpless waiting, and she said:
“Dear Erlend, can you think that we maidens could forget the man who defended our honour so gallantly.”
She saw his face change as though she had struck him—and at once she was sorry; then Simon asked what this was they spoke of. Kristin told him of Ingebjörg’s and her adventure in the Eikaberg woods. She marked that Simon liked the tale but little. Then she begged him to go and ask of Lady Angerd, whether they should not soon go home; ’twas true that she was weary. When he was gone, she looked at Erlend.
“’Tis strange,” said he in a low voice, “you are so quick-witted—I had scarce believed it of you.”
“Think you not I have had to learn to hide and be secret?” said she gloomily.
Erlend’s breath came heavily; he was still very pale.
“’Tis so then?” he whispered. “Yet did you promise me to turn to my friends if this should come to pass. God knows, I have thought of you each day, in dread that the worst might have befallen—”
“I know well what you mean by the worst,” said Kristin shortly. “That you have no need to fear. To me what seemed the worst was that you would not send me one word of greeting—can you not understand that I am living there amongst the nuns—like a stranger bird—?” She stopped—for she felt that the tears were coming.
“Is it therefore you are with the Dyfrin folk now?” he asked. Then such grief came upon her that she could make no answer.