* * * * * Erlend came not to the mass, as he had promised Kristin he would, and she thought about this more than of God’s word. She felt no sorrow that this was so—she had only that strange new feeling that she was cut off from all the ties that she had felt binding on her before. She tried to take comfort—like enough Erlend deemed it wisest that no one in whose charge she was should come to know of their friendship at this time. She could understand herself that ’twas wise. But her heart had longed so for him, and she wept when she had gone to rest in the loft-room where she was to sleep with Aasmund’s little daughters. The day after, she went up into the wood with the youngest of her uncle’s children, a little maid of six years. When they were come to the pastures among the woods a little way off, Erlend came running after them. Kristin knew it was he before she had seen who was coming. “I have sat up here on the hill spying down into the courtyard the whole day,” said he. “I thought surely you would find a chance to come out—” “Think you I came out to meet you then?” said Kristin, laughing. “And are you not afraid to beat about my uncle’s woods with dogs and bow?” “Your uncle gave me leave to take my pastime hunting here,” said Erlend. “And the dogs are Aasmund’s—they found me out this morning.” He patted them and lifted the little girl up in his arms. “_You_ know me, Ragndid? But say not you have spoken with me, and you can have this”—and he took out a bunch of raisins and gave them to the child. “I had brought them for you,” he said to Kristin. “Think you this child can hold her tongue?” They talked fast and laughed together. Erlend was dressed in a short close-fitting brown jacket and had a small red silk cap pulled down over his black hair—he looked so young; he laughed and played with the child; but sometimes he would take Kristin’s hand, and press it till it hurt her. He spoke of the rumours of war and was glad: “’Twill be easier for me to win back the King’s friendship,” said he, “and then will all things be easy,” he said vehemently. At last they sat down in a meadow up among the woods. Erlend had the child on his lap; Kristin sat by his side; under cover of the grass he played with her fingers. He pressed into her hand three gold rings bound together by a cord: “By and by,” he whispered, “you shall have as many as will go on your fingers—” “I shall wait for you here on this field each day about this time, as long as you are at Skog,” he said as they parted. “And you must come if you can.”