are nearer right than we think for. Doubtless they have a tender
conscience toward God, and a tender conscience is what he loves."

Then David rose from Nanna's side and walked rapidly to and fro
in the room. Motion helped him to no solution of the tremendous
difficulty. And Nanna's patient face, her fixed outward gaze, the
spiritual light of resolute decision in her eyes, gave to her
appearance an austere beauty that made him feel as if this offering
up of their love and all its earthly sweetness was a sacrifice
already tied to the horns of the altar, and fully accepted.

Now, the law of duty lay very close to David's thoughts; it was an
ever-present consciousness, haunting his very being; but the sensual
nature always shrinks away from it. David sat down and covered his
face with his hands, and began to weep--to sob as strong men sob when
their sorrow is greater than they can bear; as they never sob until
the last drop, the bitterest drop of all, is added--the belief that
God has forsaken them. This was the agony which tore David's great,
fond heart in two. It forced from him the first pitiful words of
reproach against his God:

"I was sure at last that I was going to be happy, and God is not
willing. From my youth up he has ay laid upon me the rod of
correction. I wish that I had never been born!"

"My poor lad! but you are not meaning it." And Nanna put her arms
around his neck and wept with him. For some minutes he let her do
so, for he was comforted by her sympathy; but at last he stood up,
passed his hand across his eyes, and said as bravely as he could:

"You are right, Nanna. If you feel in this way, I dare not force
your conscience. But I must go away until I get over the sore
disappointment."

"Where will you go to, David?"

"Who can tell? The countries in which I may have to earn and eat my
bread I know not. But if I was seeing you every day, I might get to
feel hard at God."

"No, no! He fashioned us, David, and he knows what falls and sore
hurts we must get before we learn to step sure and safe."

"In the end it may all be right. I know not. But this I know: pain
and cold and hunger and weariness and loneliness I have borne with a
prayer and a tight mouth, and I have never said before that I thought
him cruel hard."

"His ways are not cruel, my dear love; they are only past our finding
out. The eternal which makes for righteousness cannot be cruel.
And if we could see God with our eyes, and h