one who seemed bubbling over with merriment--one whose countenance shone
as if from an inner light of happiness.

"Rachel," said Henrik, "your father has told me about you."

"Yes," she replied with sobering face, "they think I am a very bad
girl,--but--"

"Look here cousin, don't make any apologies. I know, and understand."

He asked her some questions about herself, all of which she answered
frankly. Then he told her about himself, which she first met with an
astonished stare. He narrated his experiences in Norway, of his trip
westward, and the real purpose of his coming to Minnesota. She heard his
story with alternating smiles and tears, as it touched her heart. They
sat thus for a long time, oblivious to the singing birds above, of the
curious passers-by, or the fast falling night. They walked home in the
lighted streets, and it was late when he bade her goodnight at the gate.

The next day Henrik had a talk with Uncle Jens which ended in the
uncle's closing with a bang the open Bible on the table out of which
they had been reading, and then in uncontrolled rage ordering his nephew
out of the house. Henrik tried to make peace with his uncle, but it
proved useless, so he took his hat and left.

Henrik met Rachel again that evening, and again they sat on the bench
under the trees. Once again they became lost to all outward disturbances
in the deep concerns which brooded in their hearts and found utterance
in their speech.