It was a difficult matter for seriously minded Uncle Jens and his family to laugh, and even a smile was seldom seen on their faces; but here was 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.
"I shall remain here a few days more," said he in conclusion, "because I want to get better acquainted with you; and then we must talk over our plans further. Then I shall go back to Norway. In a few months I shall come back, and we two shall go westward where the Temples are, and there begin the work that is ours—the work that the Lord has called us to do. What do you say to that?"
"Thank you," she replied simply, and with her usual smile; "I shall be ready."