Erlend stood silent.
“Mind you,” asked Eline, “the night I bore your son? You promised then that you would wed me when Sigurd died.”
Erlend passed his hand up under his hair, that hung damp with sweat.
“Aye,—I remember,” he said.
“Will you keep that promise now?” asked Eline.
“No,” said Erlend.
Eline Ormsdatter looked across at Kristin—then smiled a little and nodded. Then she looked again at Erlend.
“It is ten years since, Eline,” said the man. “And since that time you and I have lived together year in year out like two damned souls in Hell.”
“But not only so, I trow!” said she with the same smile.
“It is years and years since aught else has been,” said Erlend dully. “The children would be none the better off. And you know—you know I can scarce bear to be in a room with you any more!” he almost screamed.