"I know he was, mother; and to say that because he could not believe in the many inconsistencies taught as religious truths, he is everlastingly lost, doesn't appeal to me--never did. Father, as all of us, will continue to learn in the spirit world to which all must go; and when the time comes, he will, no doubt, see the truths of the gospel and accept them. And here is where the beauty of true religion comes in: it teaches that there is hope beyond the grave; that salvation is not limited to this life; that every soul will have a chance, either here or hereafter. You, mother, have worried over father's condition. Don't do it any more; he will be all right." He felt like adding that she had more reason to worry over the living, but he said no more. Selma came in with the coffee, and no further discourse was had on religious topics. Although Henrik had quit using coffee with his meals, he occasionally sipped a little in the company of his mother. This evening he took the proffered cup from his sister, who soon withdrew again, and then Henrik and his mother continued their talk. It was along the lines of the old faith, grounded into them and their forefathers since Christianity had been "reformed" in their country. As a boy, Henrik had not been religious, as that term was understood by his people, but nevertheless he had in him a strain of true devotion which the message of the American missionary had aroused. However, this revival within the young man did not meet with the favor of his friends, and he was looked upon as having come under the influence of some evil, heretical power, much to their regret. "Marie is here," announced Selma from the door. Henrik arose. "Where is she? I did not know she was in town." "She is in the east room." "Tell her to come in." "She says she wants to see you alone." "All right. Good night then, mother. Pleasant dreams to you." Henrik found Marie sitting by the open window looking over the tops of the shrubbery in the garden. The light from the setting sun bathed her in its glow, increasing the beauty of an already beautiful face. Henrik stepped up behind the girl and placed his hands under her chin. She did not turn her head. "This is a surprise," he said, "but I am _so_ glad to see you. Did you have a pleasant time at Skarpen?" There was no reply. The young woman still surveyed the garden and the darkening shadows on the lawn. "What is the matter, little girl?" he asked. He felt the trembling of her chin as she removed his hands. "No," she replied, "I did not have a good time." "I'm sorry. What was wrong?" "You were not there--you were somewhere else, where your heart is more than with me--you were, no doubt at Osterhausgade." She hardened her tone as she proceeded. "Oh, I'm not there all the time," he laughed. "You think more of the people you meet there than you do of me, at any rate." "What makes you think so?"