t's none of your business! You don't know how a gentleman feels
about a promise," was the answer.

"My father is here for the confirmation. He talked to me about that
matter last night," persisted Lars. "He said when people were married
they promised they would be good to each other, but that was their duty
any way, if they were man and wife, promise or no promise. About
confirmation, he said that was a good old custom that it was well to
follow, but any way when boys get to our age they've got to make up
their minds what sort of men they mean to be, and start clear and
determined on the right track, or else they'll be sure, as the world
is, to go to the bad. He said, too, we'd better be in a hurry, and have
that fixed, for there was no saying how long even young folks would
live. Young folks might be broken off right sudden, like a green branch
in a high wind. I do wish you, Master Alf, could hear my father talk
about this thing."

"I've heard you talk; that's quite enough of the family for me!" said
Alf impatiently. "Attend to your business at once, will you, or I shall
have to harness the horse myself."

"I _wish_ my father was here, I do!" murmured Lars to himself, as he
most unwillingly obeyed.

"That's for your sermon," said Alf, as he took the reins in his hand,
and tossed a bit of silver to the serious, stolid-faced boy who was
looking so sorrowfully at him.

As Alf said his last words to Lars, he wished in his heart that he had
the stable-boy's full, simple determination to do right whatever it
might cost him. The veil of self-contentment had fallen from Alf's eyes.
His motives for what he was now doing stood out plainly before him. It
was true that he did not wish to pledge himself openly to a life he did
not intend to lead, but it was also true that it had long been his
cherished wish to be free from the restraints of home, and able to yield
to any and all the temptations that assailed him. He was voluntarily
giving himself up to an evil, reckless life, and he knew it.

CHAPTER II.

AFTER THIRTY YEARS.

The slender birches were sunning their mottled stems in the warm spring
air; the evergreen woods rose dark and mysterious; while the glad little
spruces that skirted the thickets were nourishing soft buds on every
twig, little caring that they would in time be as gloomy and solemn as
the grand old veterans of the forest behind them.

Sweden once more! All seemed unchanged after thirty years,