But perhaps that was no proof that anything out of the common had befallen him—perhaps it was the way with all men, that such a fit came over them now and again. It had been Teit’s way—

Teit—she felt a kind of sagging at the heart—it had been just like Teit. Her memory of him had grown distant and unreal like all the rest that sank below the horizon as she moved farther and farther away from it with Olav. Now it had again come nigh her, alive and threatening, the memory that she had been Teit’s—

She uttered a scream and started, trembling all over, as Olav suddenly appeared just behind her—she had not noticed his coming.

He had stood in the doorway for a while watching her, the tall and slender young wife bending over the board, narrow-shouldered and lithe, working slowly and awkwardly with her long, thin-fingered hands in the mess of cheese. He could not see her face beneath the coif, but he had a feeling that she was in low spirits.

He was ashamed of himself for the way he had behaved to her when he came home before. ’Twas far from seemly for a man to show his wife such conduct. He was afraid she might feel insulted.

“Have I frightened you?” Olav spoke in his usual voice, calmly, with a shade of tender solicitude. He placed himself beside her, a little awkwardly—took a pinch of the curds she was now kneading into balls, and ate it.

“I never did this work until I came hither,” she said in excuse. “Dalla would never let me. Maybe I have not pressed out the whey enough.”

“You will learn it, I doubt not,” her husband comforted her. “We have time enough, Ingunn.—I was so vexed over that matter of the horse—but the man Stein provoked me to it.” He looked down with embarrassment, turned red and laughed with annoyance. “You know ’tis not like me—to make a fool’s bargain. I was so glad when you came out to meet me—” he looked at her as though begging forgiveness.

She bent yet deeper over her work, and her cheeks flushed darkly.

“She is not yet fit for much,” thought her husband. “The unwonted labour tires her.”—If only the old man in the closet would keep quiet tonight. His poor frame was rent by rheumatic pains, so that he often wailed aloud for hours at night, and the young people got little rest.

Olav Ingolfsson had broken down completely as soon as his young kinsman had relieved him of the duties of master. He had worn himself out at Hestviken, though there was but little to show for it. Now he abandoned himself wholly to the afflictions of old age. The two young people were kind to him. Olav felt it as a support—without being clear in what way he needed support-that after years of waiting he was living under the same roof as a man of his father’s kindred. And he was glad that Ingunn was so kind and thoughtful in her manner toward the feeble old man. He had been a little disappointed that she seemed to like neither the daughters of Arne nor their father, whom they had since met. Olav himself had a great liking for this cousin of his father’s. Arne of Hestbæk was a man of some fifty years, white-haired, but handsome and of good presence; the family likeness between him and Olav Audunsson was striking. Arne Torgilsson received Olav very open-heartedly and bade him be his guest at Yule. And for this Olav had a right good mind; but Ingunn did not seem so set on going.

But he was glad that in any case she seemed to take to Olav Ingolfsson, though the old man gave no little trouble. He was often restless at night—and then he befouled the place with all the simples and unguents he prepared for himself—and the old dog, who lay in his bed at night and was to draw out the pain from his sick leg, was uncleanly, thievish, and cross-tempered. But Ingunn patiently assisted the old man, spoke to him gently as a daughter, and was kind to his dog.

Both the young people found it diverting to listen to old Olav’s talk in the evenings. There was no end to what he knew of men and families and their seats in all the country around Folden. Of the warfare that followed Sverre Priest’s coming to Norway he could tell them many tales learned from his father; but in King Skule’s cause Olav Half-priest had fought himself. Olav Audunsson’s great-grandfather, Olav Olavsson of Hestviken, had followed Sigurd Ribbung to the last, and then he had fought against Skule.