"You, and your actions. O, Henrik, could you but hear the talk--I hear it, and people look so strangely at me, and pity me ... I can't stand it!" She arose as if to escape him, walked across the room, then sat down by the center table. He closed the window blind, then lighted the gas, and seated himself opposite her by the table. There was a pause which she at last broke by saying: "I hear that you are actually going to join those horrid people--is that true?" There was another long silence as they looked at each other across the table. "Yes," he said. "Next week?" "That was my intention--yes." "And we were to be married next month?" "Yes--" "Well, I want to tell you, Henrik, that if you join those people the wedding day will have to be postponed." "For how long?" "For a long, long time." "Well--I had thought to be baptized next week; but, of course, I can postpone it." "For good, Henrik--say for good." "No; I can't say that; for a little while--to please you, to let you think a little longer on the matter. I want you to choose deliberately, Marie. There need be no undue haste. I don't want you to make up your mind unalterably to reject me because of the step which I am going to take." "I have already made up my mind." "Marie!" "You must choose between me or--" "Don't say it, don't; you'll be sorry some day, if you do; for the less said, the less there is to retract." Marie arose. "I'm not going to take anything back," she answered with forceful anger. "I thought you loved me, but--I--have been mistaken. I shall not annoy you longer. Good night." He arose to follow her. "You need not come with me," she added. "I shall see Selma, and she will accompany me home--not you." "Very well, Marie." She turned at the door. "Will you not promise?" "Promise what?" "Not to do as you said--not to disgrace--" "Marie, where the light shines, I must follow; where the truth beckons, I must go. I--" With a low cry the girl turned and fled from the room. XIII. "The Lord alone did lead him."--_Deut. 32:12_. One beautiful summer evening, Henrik Bogstad was baptized in the waters of the Christiania fjord. After that, the truths of the gospel appeared clearer than ever, and still whisperings of the Spirit, to which he now had legal right, testified to his spirit that he was in the way of salvation, narrow and straight perhaps, but glowing with a light that comforted and cheered. He told none of his family or friends of his baptism. They had already rejected him as far as they could, and they asked him no questions. His sister would hardly speak to him, and Marie cut him openly. His many uncles, aunts, and cousins were cold and unfeeling. His mother, though feeble, and sinking slowly, was the only one of his family that he could talk to. She seemed to understand and believe him. He felt that in spirit they were one, and he received great comfort from the thought.