“You are right,” said he. “I must try to let you be, Kristin,—not to put your happiness in such jeopardy. If you will—”
She threw her arms around him and laughed, but he caught her round the waist, forced her down upon a bench and seated himself on the further side of the board. When she stretched her hand over to him, he covered the palm with vehement kisses:
“I have tried more than you,” said he with passion. “You know not, how much I deem it means for both of us, that we should be wed with all honour—”
“Then you should not have made me yours—” said Kristin.
Erlend hid his face in his hands.
“Aye, would to God I had not done you that wrong,” he said.
“Neither you nor I wish that,” said Kristin, laughing boldly. “And if I may but be forgiven and make my peace at last with my kindred and with God, then shall I not sorrow overmuch though I must wear the woman’s hood when I am wed. Aye, and often it seems to me, I could do without peace even, if only I may be with you.”
“You shall bring honour with you into my house once more,” said Erlend, “not I drag you down into dishonour.”
Kristin shook her head. Then she said: