ow that she passed away in the
fear of the Lord."

Britta gave a little half-dubious, half-scornful smile. She had not the
slightest belief in the sincerity of her late grandmother's religious
principles.

"I don't understand people who are so much _afraid_ of the Lord," she
said. "They must have done something wrong. If you always do your best,
and try to be good, you needn't fear anything. At least, that's my
opinion."

"There is the everlasting burning," began Ulrika solemnly.

"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Britta quite impatiently. "I don't believe
it!"

Ulrika started back in wonder and dismay. "You don't believe it!" she
said in awed accents. "Are you also a heathen?"

"I don't know what you mean by a heathen," replied Britta almost gaily.
"But I can't believe that God, who is so good, is going to everlastingly
burn anybody. He couldn't, you know! It would hurt Him so much to see
poor creatures writhing about in flames for ever--we would not be able
to bear it, and I'm quite sure it would make Him miserable even in
heaven. Because He is all Love--He says so,--He couldn't be cruel!"

This frank statement of Britta's views presented such a new form of
doctrine to Ulrika's heavy mind that she was almost appalled by it. God
_couldn't_ burn anybody for ever--He was too good! What a daring idea!
And yet so consoling--so wonderful in the infinite prospect of hope it
offered, that she smiled,--even while she trembled to contemplate it.
Poor soul! She talked of heathens--being herself the worst type of
heathen--namely, a Christian heathen. This sounds incongruous--yet it
may be taken for granted that those who profess to follow Christianity,
and yet make of God, a being malicious, revengeful, and of more evil
attributes than they possess themselves,--are as barbarous, as
unenlightened, as hopelessly sunken in slavish ignorance as the lowest
savage who adores his idols of mud and stone. Britta was quite
unconscious of having said anything out of the common--she was
addressing herself to Svensen.

"Where is the _bonde_ buried, Valdemar?" she asked in a low tone.

He looked at her with a strange, mysterious smile.

"Buried? Do you suppose his body could mix itself with common earth?
No!--he sailed away, Britta--away--yonder!"

And he pointed out through the window to the Fjord now, invisible in the
deep darkness.

Britta stared at him with roundly opened, frightened eyes--her face
paled.

"Sailed away? You must