In the Norwegian church the subject of the sermon is arranged throughout the year. On this second Sunday after Trinity it was on the Gospel for the day, the parable of the Master of the House who made a great supper, and of the guests who “all with one consent began to make excuse.” There was nothing new in what Frithiof heard; he had heard it all in the old times, and, entirely satisfied with the happiness of self-pleasing, had been among the rich who had been sent empty away. Now he came poor and in need, and found that after all it is the hungry who are “filled with good things.” Very gradually, and helped by many flashes of light which had from time to time come to him in his darkest hours, he had during the last two years groped his way from the vague and somewhat flippant belief in a good providence, which he had once announced to Blanche as his creed, and had learnt to believe in the All-Father. His meeting with Donati had exercised, and still continued to exercise, an extraordinary influence over him; but it was not until this Sunday morning, in his own national church, not until in his own language he once more heard the entreaty, “Come, for all things are now ready!” that he fully realized how he had neglected the life of Sonship. With an Infinite Love belonging to him by right, he had allowed himself to be miserable, isolated, and bitter. To many distinct commands he had turned a deaf ear. To One who needed him and asked his love he had replied in the jargon of the nineteenth century, but in the spirit of the old Bible story, that practical matters needed him and that he could not come. When the preacher went on to speak of the Lord’s Supper, and the distinct command that all should come to it, Frithiof began to perceive for the first time that he had regarded this service merely as the incomprehensible communication of a great gift—whereas this was in truth only one side of it, and he, also, had to give himself up to One who actually needed him. It was characteristic of his honest nature that when he at last perceived this truth he no longer made excuse but promptly obeyed, not waiting for full understanding, not troubling at all about controversial points, but simply doing what he recognized as his duty. And when in a rapid survey of the past there came recollections of Blanche and the wrong she had done him, he was almost startled to find how quietly he could think of her, how possible it had become to blot out all the resentful memories, all the reproachful thoughts that for so long had haunted him. For the first time he entirely forgave her, and in the very act of forgiving he seemed to regain something of the brightness which she had driven from his life, and to gain something better and truer than had as yet been his.