“Is it Arne Gyrdsön, Kristin, you feel you cannot forget?” Kristin but gazed at him; Simon went on, and his voice was gentle and kind: “Never would I blame you for that—you had grown up like brother and sister, and scarce a year is gone by. But be well assured, for your comfort, that I have your good at heart—” Kristin’s face had grown deathly white. Neither of them spoke again as they went back through the town in the twilight. At the end of the street, in the blue-green sky, rode the new moon’s sickle with a bright star within its horn. A year, thought Kristin; and she could not think when she had last given a thought to Arne. She grew afraid—maybe she was a wanton, wicked woman—but one year since she had seen him on his bier in the wake room, and had thought she should never be glad again in this life—she moaned within herself for terror of her own heart’s inconstancy and of the fleeting changefulness of all things. Erlend, Erlend—could he forget her—and yet it seemed to her ’twould be worse, if at any time she should forget him. * * * * * Sir Andres went with his children to the great Yule-tide feast at the King’s palace. Kristin saw all the pomp and show of the festival—they came, too, into the hall where sat King Haakon and the Lady Isabel Bruce, King Eirik’s widow. Sir Andres went forward and did homage to the King, while his children and Kristin stood somewhat behind. She thought of all Lady Aashild had told her; she called to mind that the King was near of kin to Erlend, their fathers’ mothers were sisters—and she was Erlend’s light o’ love, she had no right to stand here, least of all amid these good and worthy folk, Sir Andres’ children. Then all at once she saw Erlend Nikulaussön—he had stepped forward in front of Queen Isabel, and stood with bowed head and with his hand upon his breast, while she spoke a few words to him; he had on the brown silk clothes that he had worn at the guild feast. Kristin stepped behind Sir Andres’ daughters. When, some time after, Lady Angerd led her daughters up before the Queen, Kristin could not see him anywhere, but indeed she dared not lift her eyes from the floor. She wondered whether he was standing somewhere in the hall, she thought she could feel his eyes upon her—but she thought, too, that all folks looked at her as though they must know she was a liar, standing there with the golden garland on her outspread hair. * * * * * He was not in the hall where the young folk were feasted and where they danced when the tables had been taken away; this evening it was Simon with whom Kristin must dance.