“I know not. You are so strange—and all you have said to-night. I was afraid, Ragnfrid. Like enough I understand not the hearts of women—”
Ragnfrid smiled palely and laid her arms about his neck.
“God knows, Lavrans—I was a beggar to you because I loved you more than ’tis good that a human soul should love.—And I hated that other so that I felt the devil joyed in my hate.”
“I have held you dear, my wife,” said Lavrans, kissing her, “aye, with all my heart have I held you dear. You know that, surely? Methought always that we two were happy together—Ragnfrid?”
“You were the best husband to me,” said she with a little sob, and clung close to him.
He pressed her to him strongly:
“To-night I would fain sleep with you, Ragnfrid. And if you would be to me as you were in the old days, I should not be—such a fool—”
The woman seemed to stiffen in his arms—she drew away a little:
“’Tis Fast-time.” She spoke low,—in a strange, hard voice.
“It is so.” He laughed a little. “You and I, Ragnfrid—we have kept all the fasts, and striven to do God’s bidding in all things. And now almost I could think—maybe we had been happier had we more to repent—”