surprises me that
when you and Henrietta are alone together you do not sing a hymn. In
my younger days we used always to do so. It lightens labour, and
drives away evil thoughts."

Soon afterwards the sisters, in low, clear tones, sang a hymn, which
they knew to be a favourite with their mother.

When Henrietta was unable to remember the words, she hummed the tune;
while Sarah, who was very pale, sang on with downcast but flashing
eyes.

Neither of the girls had observed that Hans Nilsen Fennefos had come
up the steps, and was standing outside on the landing.

He stopped and listened to the singing; it reminded him of that night
long since, when he heard his mother singing. He was much affected,
Sarah's soft voice seemed like his mother's, and his eyes filled with
tears.

When he reached his own little room, he sat for some time, distracted
by conflicting thoughts. How he wished that at that moment his mother
were at his side to counsel him! She, however, had died two years
since, and those who stood by her death-bed declared that she had
sung herself into heaven.

Hans Nilsen had come from a meeting of the elders. He himself was one
of their number, not by reason of his years, but because of his
faith, his uprightness, and his experience, conjoined with true
wisdom.

A letter had reached him from his native place, complaining that a
certain lukewarmness was beginning to manifest itself among the
Brethren thereabouts.

It begged imploringly that some man or woman might be sent, who would
be able to rekindle the dying flame before it was utterly quenched.

They would prefer Hans Nilsen, but, at the same time, would be
grateful for any one whom the elders might send to them.

When this letter was read out, the oldest man among them, a veteran
who had known and laboured with Hauge, said: "Now, my dear Hans
Nilsen, what is your opinion? Does the spirit call upon you to
respond to the appeal of our brethren, or do you know of any other
person more fitted for the work?"

"I think that Hans Nilsen seems very well content to be where he is,"
said Sivert Jespersen, without raising his eyes from the pages of the
sermon-book which he was turning over.

Nothing more was spoken; but they were so well acquainted with one
another, understood so well the least hint or the slightest
inflection of voice, that the pause which followed was as suggestive
and as interesting to them as a discussion.

At last Fennefos stood