“Nay, but I do, I do,” said the other hastily. “Methinks it is the best way, dear father-in-law. Send her to the Sisters in Oslo for a year—there will she learn how folk talk one of the other out in the world. I know a little of some of the maidens who are there,” he said laughing. “They would not throw themselves down and die of grief if two mad younkers tore each other to pieces for their sakes. Not that I would have such an one for wife—but methinks Kristin will be none the worse for meeting new folks.”
Lavrans put the rest of the food into the wallet and said, without looking at the youth:
“Methinks you love Kristin—?”
Simon laughed a little and did not look at Lavrans:
“Be sure, I know her worth—and yours too,” he said quickly and shamefacedly, as he got up and took his ski. “None that I have ever met would I sooner wed with—”
A little before Easter, when there was still snow enough for sleighing down the Dale and the ice still bore on Mjösen, Kristin journeyed southward for the second time. Simon came up to bear her company—so now she journeyed driving in a sleigh, well wrapped in furs and with father and betrothed beside her; and after them followed her father’s men and sledges with her clothes, and gifts of food and furs for the Abbess and the Sisters of Nonneseter.
BOOK TWO
THE GARLAND