From the moment the dean waxed warm in the pulpit, he was an entirely new man to those who knew him only in daily life. Even in appearance, he was changed; his reserved and powerful face had opened, revealing the play of thought within; his glance was full, and he looked earnestly as he set forth the glad tidings of salvation. The shaggy head stretched itself up like a lion. His voice rolled in thunder, or struck in short earnest variations, sometimes falling to a gentle tone, but only again to take new heights. Indeed he could never speak except in a great room, and with eternity over his thoughts; for his voice had no harmony till it rose, his countenance no clearness, his thoughts no striking perspicuity, till they burned with enthusiasm. Not that the material was first found then, no, if affliction had enriched his soul, reflection had done so too; he was a diligent worker. But he was not adapted to general conversation, he must have it to himself, at all events he must be able to inflect his voice. To open a discussion with him, was almost like attacking a defenceless man, but dangerous nevertheless; for his convictions were quickly expressed and with such force that reasons were left in the back ground; if at last he was pressed to give them, one of two things happened, either he completely overset the opposing party, or he became suddenly silent, because he was afraid of himself. No one could more easily be brought to silence than this powerful, eloquent man. Petra had trembled as soon as the dean began his prayer; she felt whereto it tended. The further he got in his sermon, the more she felt he was true to himself; she crept together, and she saw Signe do the same. But he proceeded unrelentingly; the lion was out after his prey, she felt herself pursued from all quarters, shut in, and captured;--but that which was seized so vigourously was gently held in the hand of mercy. It was as if without a word of condemnation, she was simply folded in the embrace of Divine love. And there she prayed and wept; Signe did the same,--and she loved her for it! As the dean descended from the pulpit, to go past into the vestry, the reflection of his communion with the Most High still overspread his countenance. His gaze fell directly and inquiringly upon Petra; and as she looked right up to meet it, a ray of mildness shone forth: he glanced quickly into the corner at his daughter as he passed on. Signe rose soon after; her veil was down, so Petra did not venture to go with her; she therefore waited longer. But at dinner they all three met together; the dean spoke a little, but Signe was reserved. If the dean--who was evidently about to bring the recent events into conversation,--gave the slightest allusion to it, Signe turned his remarks in a shy delicate way, reminding him at once of her mother;--he became silent, and by degrees sorrowful.