“God,” said Ragnfrid, hopelessly, “hates me for my sins. ’Tis well with my children, where they are, I doubt not that, and now ’tis like Ulvhild’s hour has come, too—but me he has cast off, for my heart is a viper’s nest, full of sin and sorrow—” Then someone lifted the latch—Sira Eirik stepped in, straightened his huge frame where he stood and said in his clear, deep voice: “God help all in this house!” The priest put the box with his medicines on the step before the bed and went to the open hearth and poured warm water over his hands. Then he took a cross from his bosom, struck out with it to all four corners of the room and mumbled something in Latin. Thereupon he opened the smoke-vent so that the light might stream into the room, and went and looked at Ulvhild. Kristin grew afraid he might find her and send her out—not often did Sira Eirik’s eyes let much escape them. But the priest did not look round. He took a flask from the box, poured somewhat upon a wad of finely carded wool and laid it over Ulvhild’s mouth and nose. “Now she will soon suffer less,” said the priest. He went to Lavrans and tended his wounds, while they told him how the mishap had come to pass. Lavrans had two ribs broken and had a wound in the lungs; but the priest thought that for him there was no great fear. “And Ulvhild?” asked the father fearfully. “I will tell you when I have looked at her more nearly,” answered the priest; “but you must lie in the loft-room, so that there may be more quiet and room here for those who must tend her.” He laid Lavrans’ arm about his own shoulder, took firm hold under the man, and bore him out. Kristin would fain have gone with her father now, but she dared not show herself. When Sira Eirik came back, he did not speak to Ragnfrid, but first cut the clothes off Ulvhild, who now moaned less and seemed half asleep. Then carefully he felt with his hands over the child’s body and limbs. “Is it so ill with my child, Eirik, that you know not how to save her, since you say naught,” asked Ragnfrid under her breath. The priest answered low: “It seems as though her back were badly hurt, Ragnfrid; I see no better way than to leave all in God’s hands and St. Olav’s—much there is not that I can do.” “Then must we pray,” cried the mother passionately: “—you know well that Lavrans and I will give you all you ask, and spare nothing if so be your prayers can win God to grant that Ulvhild may live.” “’Twould seem to me a miracle,” said the priest, “were she to live and have her health again.” “And is’t not of miracles that you preach late and early—believe you not that a miracle can happen with my child,” she said, as wildly as before. “’Tis true,” replied the priest, “that miracles happen; but God does not grant the prayers of all—we know not His secret counsel. And think you not, it would be worst of all should this fair little maid grow up marred or crippled?” Ragnfrid shook her head. She wailed softly: