“I spoke with Sir Andres Gudmundsön,” he said, when Astrid was gone out. “Simon marries the young widow at Manvik; he has held his betrothal feast. The wedding will be at Dyfrin at St. Andrew’s Mass. He has chosen for himself this time, has the boy. I held aloof from Sir Andres at Tunsberg, but he sought me out—’twas to tell me he knew for sure that Simon saw Lady Halfrid for the first time this mid-summer. He feared that I should think Simon had this rich marriage in mind when he broke with us.” Lavrans paused a little and laughed joylessly. “You understand—that good and worthy man feared much that we should believe such a thing of his son.” Kristin breathed more freely. She thought it must be this that had troubled her father so sorely. Maybe he had been hoping all this time that it might come to pass after all, her marriage with Simon Andressön. At first she had been in dread lest he had heard some tidings of her doings in the south at Oslo. She rose up and said good-night; but her father bade her stay yet a little. “I have one more thing to tell,” said Lavrans. “I might have held my peace about it before you—but ’tis better you should know it. This it is, Kristin—the man you have set your heart on, him must you strive to forget.” Kristin had been standing with arms hanging down and bent head. She looked up now into her father’s face. She moved her lips, but no sound came forth that could be heard. Lavrans looked away from his daughter’s eyes; he struck out sideways with his hand: “I wot well you know that never would I set myself against it, could I anyways believe ’twould be for your good.” “What are the tidings that have been told you on this journey, father?” said Kristin in a clear voice. “Erlend Nikulaussön and his kinsman, Sir Munan Baardsön, came to me at Tunsberg,” answered Lavrans. “Sir Munan asked for you for Erlend, and I answered him: no.” Kristin stood a while, breathing heavily. “Why will you not give me to Erlend Nikulaussön?” she asked. “I know not how much you know of the man you would have for husband,” said Lavrans. “If you cannot guess the reason for yourself, ’twill be no pleasing thing for you to hear from my lips.” “Is it because he has been outlawed, and banned by the Church?” asked Kristin as before. “Know you what was the cause that King Haakon banished his near kinsman from his Court—and how at last he fell under the Church’s ban for defying the Archbishop’s bidding—and that when he fled the land ’twas not alone?” “Aye,” said Kristin. Her voice grew unsteady: “I know, too, that he was but eighteen years old when he first knew her—his paramour.” “No older was I when I was wed,” answered Lavrans. “We reckoned, when I was young, that at eighteen years a man was of age to answer for himself, and care for others’ welfare and his own.” Kristin stood silent.