"If God chooses us to do so, yes! But it must be done by and through faith, for Jesus' sake, Josephine, otherwise it is of no avail." She answered not a word. "What do you say to this, Josephine? Do you not wish us to try and lead a true Christian life?" his eyes were beseeching, his hand sought hers; "Josephine!" She withdrew her hand. "No, you know, I cannot see why I should make my own life unpleasant; it would benefit no one, and only injure me." "Do not say that! If only we could try! To believe in Jesus, and to live together only for the good of others." "What nonsense! I can't help it, if it hurts your feelings; it is rubbish to say that one requires to believe in Jesus so as to help the poor. I don't care, I _will_ say what I think." "If you believed in Jesus, you would understand the reason why." "I never said I did not believe in Jesus." "Ah, Josephine, this kind of faith is worthless! You can't even fathom what real faith is? I am answerable for this shortcoming of yours; I who live year out and year in with you, and have got no further!" He bent down toward her; there were tears in his eyes. "How happy we might be together if you would but humble yourself before God--you who have such strength--and whom I love so dearly." He tried to put his arm gently round her. "Faugh!" she exclaimed, and sat up. He jumped up as though he were stung. She sat with flaming eyes--soon laid down again, both arms under her head; her bosom heaved, she was much agitated. "I do not know whether God will permit us to continue living together under these circumstances," he said. "No, do just as you choose." He turned from her, for he thought it beneath him to answer. The little boy groaned in his sleep and tossed uneasily. Tuft looked at him; the little fellow lay with his arm under him and half-open mouth; Tuft knew the forehead well, it was his father's over again, and was like his own too, the hair, the shape of the little hands and fingers, even to the very nails. But the day might come when even the boy would no longer be his own, if this continued. "No, Josephine, things shall not continue in this way. God help us both; the struggle shall not end thus." Behind the excessive goodness of his heart, all the breadth and strength of his nature became evident; she felt this. It moved her deeply. She heard him wandering up and down in his study, restless, but with a set purpose. She could not sleep. The day after Kristen Larssen had become aware of the nature of his disease, he committed suicide. It shocked people dreadfully; he haunted the place; hardly anyone dare pass the house. A rumor got abroad that Kallem had lent Larssen his revolver for this purpose; but it was put an end to by his wife, by Sören Pedersen, and by Kallem's own testimony.