dertook the duty with a zeal and vigour
unusual even for him.

On the other hand, during the first weeks of his stay, he was unable
to lead the devotions among the labourers, who, after the custom of
the Haugians, assembled for meals and for family worship in a great
room, where they all ate in common at a long table.

Hans Nilsen confined his energies to the manual work of the farm, and
at the meetings he was silent and oppressed. But after a couple of
months had passed in this way, he began to lift up his head again.

In the hard bodily labour, and in all the responsibility which rested
upon him as superintendent, his strong, sound nature recovered its
equilibrium.

Although he continually deplored his one moment of weakness, and
although he condemned himself, he yet began to understand that such
might happen even to the best; and as this occurrence had revealed to
him his own frailty, and had sorely shaken his self-confidence, so it
also brought with it doubts as to whether he was right in expecting
so much from mortal man as had been his wont.

He bethought him of the poor anxious inquirers whom he had left up in
the North, and it seemed to him a sin to impose such heavy burdens on
them. Then he thought of the well-to-do, easy Haugians, and it seemed
a sin to remain among them. Sometimes, again, in his hopelessness he
thought that it was as bad for him to be in the one place as in the
other, and he longed for something entirely different.

Having got thus far, it became necessary to consider his future life.
Stay here, he could not. He was not uneasy on his own account,
although after this he could not be sure of himself. For her sake,
however, it was imperative that he should depart.

Separated they must be, that was clear; this he repeated to himself,
but still he continued to stay on. Here there was work which would
last over the harvest; and besides, whither in the world should he
go?

When he left that place, there would be no spot in the wide world
that could hold out any attraction to him, which could offer either
home or friends. He would rather see no one, and live alone.

His heart was deeply wounded, and he often thought of Henrietta. He,
too, was bound for life and death by an affection into which no evil
thoughts should intrude. As for Sarah, he would pray for her.

In the meantime the elders regarded Hans Nilsen with concern. The
address in Sivert Jespersen's house had done much harm; an im