That very same day he was summoned on this account to a debate; three meetings were held in the course of the week, all of them overcrowded. The principal speaker against him was a clergyman and theological publisher from the metropolis. The doctrine of hell was almost the sole subject, and Tuft maintained that what St. Paul said about it was widely different from what was in the Book of Revelations. According to St. Paul, life here and in the next world was a state of progression, which ended by God becoming "all in all." This doctrine was up to the standard of both justice and charity. And a great impression was made, as his resonant voice, in its rapid west-country tones, shouted out across the tightly packed assembly, asking whether they thought there would ever be an end of wars and persecutions as long as the doctrine of hell, with all its cruel revenge and brutality was taught in all the schools and churches as the justice and charity of God. His opponents were "thoroughly in the style of the doctrine of hell," for they did all they could to condemn and stigmatize him as heretical. However, there was but one opinion amongst the auditors--that for clearness of language and powers of persuasion Tuft was vastly superior to the others. Dr. Kallem was present at the last meeting. He saw Josephine sitting there with flaming eyes, and the next day, toward evening, his answer came. She was walking up and down before the house, watching her boy at play with the garden-hose, when the letter was given her. She recognized the writing directly, but trembled so that she could not open it. She was horrified to see how weak she still was; would she never get back the strength of her youth? Then she went up to her room and locked herself in. It was a long letter; she turned it over and sat down to consider whether she would let Tuft read it first. But possibly there might be something about him which he was not to see. She opened the letter. Not a word from her brother, not a single word to her. The first that she saw was written in a strange hand, the next too, and the following after that, the whole thing, but in two different handwritings. There were some sheets of paper fastened together, some letters, a few loose scraps--not a word from Edward. What did it signify? Involuntarily Josephine selected the least of all the papers, a little scrap of three lines: "They destroyed my good name and I knew it not. For I knew not that I had it before it was destroyed." On another scrap there were these words faintly written: "Forgive them; they know not what they do!" This delicate, flowing handwriting was of course Ragni's. Josephine began to tremble without knowing why. Then there was a letter, written in another hand, the first words of which were in red ink. No signature. But as she read that Kallem was not to see it, she guessed it was a love-letter from Karl Meek, which Kallem must have found afterwards. What had Josephine to do with that?