with her daughter in the family seat, in which were also
Fanny and Madeleine. Dean Sparre, with his wife and daughter Barbara,
were in the front row of the pew which belonged to them; while behind
were Pastor Martens with the other Miss Sparres; and behind, again, Mrs.
Rasmussen, the chaplain's housekeeper.

The congregation was so large that the voices swelled as when the
Christmas hymn is sung, and as the preacher wended his way towards the
pulpit, the heads of all the singers were turned as if to follow him.

As Johnsen ascended the narrow winding stair where no eye could see him,
he felt a momentary weakness, as if he must almost sink under his
burden, and he never afterwards clearly remembered how he had managed to
get up the last few steps which led to the pulpit; but when he at length
reached his place, and the hundred eyes were again fixed on him, he
forced himself, with that energy which was peculiar to him, to conquer
his feelings. He looked so calm that many people averred that they had
never seen a young clergyman more at home in the pulpit.

Johnsen had sharp eyes, and could recognize many of the faces below him;
but he was conscious of Rachel's presence, as she sat opposite to him in
the Garmans' pew, more by an instinctive feeling than because he
actually saw her. He was, in fact, obliged to avert his eyes from her
direction, lest the sight should unman him. The part of the church in
which the women sat was immediately under him, just below the pulpit,
while the private pews were in a kind of gallery opposite. As the
congregation sang the last verse of the psalm, he gazed deliberately
over all the upturned eyes. Some were piercing, some curious, some pious
and devotional, while some appeared as deep and unfathomable as if he
were looking into unknown depths.

After an introductory prayer, he read his text in a clear and composed
voice, after which he began a short and clear explanation of the
passage. It was only in the last part of the sermon that he really
intended to go into more personal matters, and the nearer he approached
them the less confidence he seemed to feel. When he had begun his
sermon, he had fixed his eyes on a certain point, which he sought every
time he lifted his eyes from his notes; and this point, although he had
not remarked it at first, was Dean Sparre's head. The snowy hair and the
white collar stood out in the sharpest contrast against the dark
background, and the more the sp