He bent down to do up a trunk.  When he got up she was gone.  With a fierce look in his eyes, he continued his preparations.  He meant to catch the first train the next morning, and get at once far away from his native town.  What he would then do he did not know, except that he would never return.  When everything was ready, he locked the front door and went to bed.  But he could not sleep.  Twice in the night the door-bell rang, but he would not open the door.  It rang a third time, and kept on ringing; and at last he got out of bed.  It was Ole Tuft.  His face was ghastly.

“Where is my wife, Edward Kallem?  What have you done with my wife?” he moaned.

“Ragni’s grave,” said Kallem.  “She is there, I think.”

And then he slammed the door to.  Just as dawn was breaking, the bell rang again.  Kallem went into the hall, and saw that two pieces of paper had been thrust through the letter-box.  On one, Tuft had written:  “She is not there, Edward; she was not there.  I found this note on my writing-table among the letters you sent her.  Oh, Edward, it was not like you to send her away!” On the other piece of paper Josephine had written:  “Read these, Ole, and you will understand all.  For my life’s sake, I am now going to my brother!”

“For my life’s sake!” Kallem shivered as he read it, and all his old love for his sister came back to him.  Had he killed her?  She had wronged Ragni, true; but it was merely out of jealousy.  Jealousy because he had made Ragni all in all to him, and left her out of his life.  He could have brought his wife and sister together, but he had not tried to do it.  Ah, he, too, was guilty!  All her life long Josephine had looked up to him and worshipped him.  Then he had come back from America, and cast her off, for one who was not worthy of him, so it seemed to her.  And in his fierce pride he had refused to reveal to her the fine character of his wife.

He rushed out of the door, resolved to find what had become of her.  She was sitting on the steps of the house.  As she saw him, she crouched down like a wounded bird, which cannot get away, yet must not be seen.  He took her up into his arms, and carried her indoors.

“Let me stay, Edward—­let me stay!” she said.

He bent over her and kissed her.

“God’s ways!  God’s ways!” said Ole Tuft, as he and Edward and Josephine walked slowly towards his house through the empty streets in the early morning.

“But I still cannot share your faith,” Kallem said.

“It matters not,” said the minister.  “There where good people walk, are God’s ways.”

* * * * *

WILLIAM BLACK

A Daughter of Heth