assing up the aisle. It was like a dream; they all seemed
creatures of a purer world than his. The organ commenced to play, the
singing was begun, and he leaned his head forward on his hands,
completely overcome, and trying to conceal his sobs. In this position he
remained during the greater part of the service, his past life coming
up, scene by scene, before him. What a gulf he felt there was between
the present condition of his mind and what it had been in the days when
as a boy or lad he had gone to church like the rest. He had been
familiar with more murder and blasphemy than the whole congregation
together could conceive; and the simple faith he had once possessed he
had been robbed of, he feared irrecoverably. His eyes flashed then with
a sudden wildness as he thought who it was that had brought him to this;
and it was with a deep hatred in his heart to one of the two at least,
that he left the church. In a couple who were coming out at the same
time, he recognised Captain Beck and his wife, and the sight added fuel
to the flames. He hastened on; and was hardly to be recognised as the
same man who had gone up the same way so quietly two hours before.

He had meant to go over at once to Sandvigen to see his father, but he
thought that before going it would be as well to find out for certain
all about Elizabeth; and his landlady seemed as likely a person to be
able to satisfy him as any one. He remembered well that sharp,
bright-eyed little woman, and knew that she was a regular magpie for
chatter, and for repeating the gossip of the town.

At that time of the day on Sunday there were no other customers in the
house, and while she was busying herself with preparations for his
dinner, he asked casually if Captain Beck's son, the one in the navy,
was married?

"To be sure he is," she replied, surprised to hear him speak Norwegian.
"He has been married for--let me see--about three years."

She looked fixedly at him.

"But who are you?" she asked; and then, as if the thought had suddenly
flashed upon her, she said, "It's never Salve Kristiansen, who--" She
stopped here, and Salve dryly finished the sentence for her--

"Who deserted from Beck at Rio?--the same."

Madam Gjers was agog with curiosity, and whispered, "I'll say
nothing--you may trust me;" and waited eagerly then for further
particulars which she might take the first opportunity of retailing.

Salve assured her that he knew of old that a secret was al