His heart beat lightly and strongly, and he thought: "Let others condemn me now if they will, it will not matter, for in myself I know that I have fulfilled my penance and conquered." THE SERMON OF THE SACREDNESS OF LIFE SVEN ELVERSSON, his mother Thala, his brother Ung-Joel, and Ung-Joel's wife, stood among the crowd in the little burial ground outside the church at Applum. It was the day when the dead sailors brought into Applum after the great fight in the North Sea were to be laid to rest. A great grave had been dug, to receive no less than seventeen coffins. So great a funeral had never before been seen in the little parish, and it might safely be said that never before had so many people been gathered in the little churchyard. Not for eight years had Sven Elversson been so near a church as now. He had even hesitated a little about going to the funeral now, but his mother, who had come down to Applum to see to Ung-Joel, had persuaded him to go with them. "Look you, Sven," said she, "I'd not set my foot in Applum church any more than you, but to-day's a week-day, so there's no question of that. And after all you've done to have those poor dead bodies laid in Christian ground, you'd not be leaving them the last of the way?" It was as she said. All that last week, ever since the day he had been out with the _Naiad_, Sven Elversson and his brother Joel had sailed about among the reefs and islands in a light craft, looking for stranded bodies. Some had also been brought in from other parts, but the two brothers themselves had collected no less than eight and ferried in to the stone quay at Applum. "Besides," said Mor Thala, "you can see yourself that folk look at you differently now to what they did." This was, perhaps, what weighed most. The war, its horrors, all the misfortunes that had come upon the fisherfolk, had made them look more gently at Sven Elversson and his offence. They were more inclined now to notice his striving to help and restore. "He must be a good man, anyway," they said. "He tries to help any one that's hard put. And, after all, helping the living's the greatest thing." When it was then seen that Sven Elversson himself was doing more than all the rest to secure proper burial for the poor sailors, there were some who fancied they understood what made him do so, but most felt that, after all, it was not needed so. It was otherwise with Sven Elversson himself. Each day he went to this new task of his with a strange delight. Every hour of it gave him more peace, more calm of mind. He felt a lightness of heart, a happiness, that he could not express, but the reflection of it shone in his face. Not the joy of love, not the noblest deed, no word of praise could have given him the inner security he felt now, since he had taken the body of a dead English seaman on the _Naiad_ under his protection.