“One year, thought Kristin, and she could hardly remember when she had last given Arne a thought. It gave her a fright – maybe she was a loose, vile woman. A year since she had seen him lying on the bier in the death chamber, when she thought she would never be happy again. She whimpered silently in fear at the inconstancy of her own heart and at the transitory nature of all things. Erlend, Erlend – would he forget her? But worse yet was that she might ever forget him.”
