“’Tis true,” said the monk, “God’s mercy alone have I to thank that I am not called manslayer. ’Tis many years agone—I was a young man then, and methought I could not endure the wrong the Bishop would have put upon us poor friars. King Haakon—he was Duke then—had given us the ground for our house, but we were so poor we had to work upon our church ourselves—with some few workmen who gave their help more for Heavenly reward than for what we could pay them. Maybe ’twas sinful pride in us beggar monks to wish to build our church so fair and goodly—but we were happy as children in the fields, and sang songs of praise while we hewed and built and toiled. Brother Ranulv—God rest his soul—was masterbuilder—he was a right skilful stonecutter; nay, I trow the man had been granted skill in all knowledge and all arts by God himself. I was a carver of stone panels in those days; I had but just finished one of St. Clara, whom the angels were bearing to the church of St. Francis in the dawn of Christmas day—a most fair panel it had proved, and all of us joyed in it greatly—then the hellish miscreants tore down the walls, and a stone fell and crushed my panels—I struck at a man with my hammer, I could not contain me— “Aye, now you smile, my Kristin. But see you not, that ’tis not well with you now, since you would rather hear such tales of other folks’ frailties than of the life and deeds of good men, who might serve you as a pattern—? “’Tis no easy matter to give you counsel,” he said, when it was time for her to go. “For were you to do what were most right, you would bring sorrow to your father and mother and shame to all your kin. But you must see to it that you free yourself from the troth you plighted to Simon Andressön—and then must you wait in patience for the lot God may send you, make in your heart what amends you can—and let not this Erlend tempt you to sin again, but pray him lovingly to seek atonement with your kin and with God— “From your sin I cannot free you,” said Brother Edwin, as they parted, “but pray for you, I will with all my might....” He laid his thin, old hands upon her head and prayed, in farewell, that God might bless her and give her peace. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ 6 AFTERWARDS, there was much in what Brother Edwin had said to her that Kristin could not call to mind. But she left him with a mind strangely clear and peaceful. Hitherto she had striven with a dull, secret fear and tried to brave it out; telling herself she had not sinned so deeply. Now she felt Edwin had shown her plainly and clearly, that she had sinned indeed; such and such was her sin, and she must take it upon her and try to bear it meekly and well. She strove to think of Erlend without impatience—either because he did not send word of himself or because she must want his caresses. She would only be faithful and full of love for him.