* * * * * Ragnfrid was lying awake when they came in, and she asked how things had been in the wake chamber. Simon took it upon himself to answer for all. Aye, there had been many candles and many folk; aye, there had been a priest—Tormod from Ulvsvolden—Sira Eirik he heard had ridden off to Hamar this very evening, so there would be no trouble about the burial. “We must have a mass said over the lad,” said Ragnfrid; “God strengthen Inga; the good worthy woman is sorely tried.” Lavrans sang the same tune as Simon and in a little Simon said that now they must all go to rest; “for Kristin is both weary and sorrowful.” * * * * * After a time, when Ragnfrid slept, Lavrans threw on a few clothes, and went and seated himself on the edge of his daughters’ bed. He found Kristin’s hand in the dark and said very gently: “Now must you tell me, child, what is true and what is false in all this talk Inga is spreading?” Sobbing, Kristin told him all that had befallen the evening Arne set out for Hamar. Lavrans said but little. Kristin crept toward him in her bed, threw her arms around his neck and wailed softly: “It _is_ my fault that Arne is dead—’tis but too true, what Inga said—” “’Twas Arne himself that begged you to go and meet him,” said Lavrans, pulling the coverlid up over his daughter’s bare shoulders. “I trow it was heedless in me to let you two go about together, but I thought the lad would have known better—I will not blame you two—I know these things are heavy for you to bear. Yet did I never think that daughter of mine would fall into ill-fame in this parish of ours—and ’twill go hard with your mother when she hears these tidings—But that you went to Gunhild with this and not to me, ’twas so witless a thing—I understand not how you could behave so foolishly—” “I cannot bear to stay here in the Dale any more,” sobbed Kristin, “—not a soul would I dare look in the face—and all I have brought upon them—the folks at Romundgaard and at Finsbrekken—” “Aye, they will have to see to it, both Gyrd and Sira Eirik,” said Lavrans, “that these lies about you are buried with Arne. For the rest, ’tis Simon Andressön can best defend you in this business,” said he, and patted her in the dark. “Think you not he took the matter well and wisely—” “Father”—and Kristin clung close to him and begged piteously and fervently, “send me to the convent, father. Aye, listen to me—I have thought of this for long; may be Ulvhild will grow well if I go in her stead. You know the shoes with beads upon them that I sewed for her in the autumn—I pricked my fingers sorely, and my hands bled from the sharp gold-thread—yet I sat and sewed on them, for I thought it was wicked of me not to love my sister so that I would be a nun to help her—Arne once asked if I would not. Had I but said ‘Aye’ then, all this would not have befallen—” Lavrans shook his head: