“I bade her ask what she would for herself and the children—but Sigurd, her husband—they look not that he should live the winter out—and then none could deny us if we would live together— “—I lay in the stable with Haftor and Ulv, and Eline lay in the hall in my bed. I trow my men had a rare jest to laugh at behind my back—” Kristin could not say a word. A little after, Erlend spoke again: “See you, the day we pledge each other at our espousals, she must understand that all is over between her and me—she has no power over me any more— “But ’tis hard for the children. I had not seen them for a year—they are fair children—and little can I do to give them a happy lot. ’Twould not have helped them greatly had I been able to wed their mother.” Tears began to roll down over Kristin’s cheeks. Then Erlend said: “Heard you what I said but now, that I had talked with my kinsfolk? Aye, they were glad enough that I was minded to wed. Then I said ’twas you I would have and none other—” “And they liked not that?” asked Kristin at length, forlornly. “See you not?” said Erlend gloomily, “they could say but one thing—they cannot and they will not ride with me to your father, until this bargain twixt you and Simon Andressön is undone again. It has made it none the easier for us, Kristin, that you have spent your Yule-tide with the Dyfrin folk.” Kristin gave way altogether and wept noiselessly. She had felt ever that there was something of wrong and dishonour in her love, and now she knew the fault was hers. She shook with the cold when she got up soon after, and Erlend wrapped her in both the cloaks. It was quite dark now without, and Erlend went with her as far as St. Clement’s Church; then Brynhild brought her the rest of the way to Nonneseter. 7 A week later Brynhild Fluga came with the word that the cloak was ready, and Kristin went with her and met Erlend in the loft-room as before. When they parted, he gave her a cloak: “So that you may have something to show in the convent,” said he. It was of blue velvet with red silk inwoven, and Erlend bade her mark that ’twas of the same hues as the dress she had worn that day in the woods. Kristin wondered it should make her so glad that he said this—she thought he had never given her greater happiness than when he had said these words. But now they could no longer make use of this way of meeting, and it was not easy to find a new one. But Erlend came often to the vespers at the convent church, and sometimes Kristin would make herself an errand after the service up to the commoners’ houses; and then they would snatch a few words together by stealth up by the fences in the murk of the winter evening.