“Now must you try to play the man, Erlend. ’Tis not so easy to believe you in this matter. Do you swear it is not yours?” Erlend lifted his ravaged face: “As surely as I needed God’s mercy—as surely as I hope—that God in Heaven has comforted mother for all she suffered here—I have not touched Eline since first I saw Kristin!” He cried out the words, so that Lady Aashild had to hush him. “Then I see not that this is so great a misfortune. You must find out who the father is, and make it worth his while to wed her.” “’Tis in my mind that it is Gissur Arnfinsön—my steward at Husaby,” said Erlend wearily. “We talked together last year—and since then too—Sigurd’s death has been looked for this long time past. He was willing to wed her, when she was a widow, if I would give her a fitting portion—” “Well?” said Lady Aashild. Erlend went on: “She swears with great oaths she will have none of him. She will name me as the father. And if I swear I am not—think you any will believe aught but that I am forsworn—?” “You must sure be able to turn her purpose,” said Lady Aashild. “There is no other way now but that you go home with her to Husaby no later than to-morrow. And there must you harden your heart and stand firm till you have this marriage fixed between your steward and Eline.” “Aye,” said Erlend. Then he threw himself forward again and groaned aloud: “Can you not see—Moster—what think you Kristin will believe—?” At night Erlend lay in the kitchen-house with the men. In the hall Kristin slept with Lady Aashild in the Lady’s bed, and Eline Ormsdatter in the other bed that was there. Björn went out and lay in the stable. The next morning Kristin went out with Lady Aashild to the byre. While the lady went to the kitchen to make ready the breakfast, Kristin bore the milk up to the hall. A candle stood burning on the table. Eline was sitting dressed on the edge of her bed. Kristin greeted her silently, then fetched a milk-pan and poured the milk into it. “Will you give me a drink of milk?” asked Eline. Kristin took a wooden ladle, filled it and handed it to the other; she drank eagerly, looking at Kristin over the rim of the cup. “So you are that Kristin Lavransdatter, that hath stolen from me Erlend’s love,” she said as she gave back the ladle. “You should know best if there was any love to steal,” said the girl. Eline bit her lip. “What will _you_ do,” she said, “if Erlend one day grow weary of you, and offer to wed you to his serving-man? Will you do his will in that as well?” Kristin made no answer. Then the other laughed, and said: “You do his will in all things now, I well believe. What think you, Kristin—shall we throw dice for our man, we two paramours of Erlend Nikulaussön?” When no answer came, she laughed again and said: “Are you so simple, that you deny not you are his paramour?” “To you I care not to lie,” said Kristin.