“Beloved, if God doth make this land impossible, then is it His purpose that we shall cease with the land as we began. And that is just, as all God’s dealings are. Oh, it is ominous that thou a man, and I a woman, whom God made, should think to thwart His purposes in us or in this land! Thou canst not change the purposes of God, beloved.” “Does not God mean that we shall use the powers He gives us?” “Yea—where He points the way.” “And who points the way to me? Who puts these things into my brain?” This reasoning was better to her. And it all was new—so great a thought as that. “I have not reasoned deep as that,” she said in awe. “Surely, thy thought is greater and more reverent—than mine—as, indeed, a husband’s should be greater than a wife’s,” she said in pretty pride of him. “I try, just now, to think the travellers did put the purpose in thee. Yet, somewhere, no matter how it came to thee, it had beginning in the mind of God. I know not,” she whispered. “If thou thinkest it the will of God—thou shalt go. To Him all oaths and promises against His will are vanity and sin.” “Beloved, if I stay, it will be alone to tread the mill and build me and thee a house yonder with the dead. God does not desire that. That is our destiny—our only destiny. To be hungry—poor—naked—to starve—to waste—to be drowned in still waters—to sleep in decay yonder. If I go, the very world is mine and all it has. That is God’s will.” “I am thy joy, Christof,” pleaded his young wife. “So thou hast often said. And I will give thee all my little life to make thee happy here. I think I can. Oh, we will be hungry—yea—and poor—but we will be together. There is no other life for me. Is there for thee? Together, Christof!” “I cannot go without thy well-wishing,” he smiled and caressed her; “but my wife will give me that and send me forth. She will not make me wear a young life out here that might be great and honored there. She has it in her splendid head that it will be for long and far. It is a week to the great land. A week to find a nest. A week to come again. Canst thou not wait and ward three weeks for paradise? Could I fail, if that is in thy head, when it is for the helpless ones upon our hands and hearts and for—thee? Now, for thy talisman of success. I will preserve it from all harm and bring it back to thee. I swear it on this pretty hand. Thus did our ancestors go forth. Art thou less brave than they? Am I?” There was a moment in which nothing was heard but the sullen beating of the waves. She was so sad that almost he was persuaded to renounce ambition for her love. But his eye caught the sun upon a distant sail. “There!” cried he. “It shall be as swift as that!”