h or
meeting. Her comely face contrasted pleasantly with the full chin,
which bore a trace of the commanding expression of her mother. She
wore her hair quite smooth, with plaits coiled round the back of her
head.

The charm of Sarah's face and figure was not such as is apparent one
year and vanishes the next; on the contrary, there was something
about her soft rounded features, pale clear complexion, and steadfast
eyes resulting in a calm, attractive beauty which promised to be
lasting.

Standing at the dresser amid the clatter of plates and cups, humming
her psalm tune, she did not hear the footsteps of a man ascending the
kitchen stairs; but when the door opened, she turned round, then
blushed a little, and cast her eyes down upon the ground.

The man in the doorway, who was tall and broad-shouldered, also cast
his eyes down, and said: "Look here, Sarah, I bring you 'Life in
Death,' the book we were speaking of. I hope you will like it."

"Thanks, Hans Nilsen," answered Sarah, without looking up from her
work. She could not take the book in her hands because they were wet,
so he laid it on the bench by her side and went away.

She listened to his step as he went up the stairs to the attic, for
Hans Nilsen Fennefos was one of Madame Torvestad's lodgers. Sarah
dried her hands hastily, and took up the book, dipping into it here
and there with evident interest and pleasure.

It was written by Hauge himself, of whom Fennefos often spoke, but
for whom her mother did not seem to care much; at all events she
possessed none of his works.

Sarah had, however, something else to do than to read; so she laid
the precious little volume, which Fennefos had bound with his own
hands, upon the window seat by her side, and renewed her work and her
hymn, a little more vigorously than before.

Sometimes she leant forward, and as she turned her head on one side,
gazing up at the narrow streak of blue sky which was visible between
the roofs, her dark eyes shone with a guileless, rapturous light, as
if they were piercing the vault of heaven itself.

Soon, however, another footstep became audible on the stairs below,
and this time Sarah heard it distinctly. It was Henrietta--there
could be no mistake about that. Two or three careless hasty steps,
then a stumble, and then much clatter, then more steps; just as young
girls blunder up a staircase when they first wear long gowns.

Henrietta, who entered heated, radiant, and out of b