One evening on his way home from work, the old man met Anna Lisa on the road.  She looked frightened, and wanted to run away.  Strong Ingmar, seeing this, quickened his pace, thinking all was not well at home.  When he reached his but he stopped short, frowning.  As far back as he could remember, a certain rosebush had been growing outside the door.  It had been the apple of his eye.  He had never allowed any one to pluck a rose or a leaf from that bush.  Strong Ingmar had always guarded the bush very tenderly, because he believed it sheltered elves and fairies.  But now it had been cut down.  Of course it was his son-in-law, the preacher, who had done this, as the sight of the bush had always been an eyesore to him.

Strong Ingmar had his axe with him, and his grip on the handle tightened as he entered the hut.  Inside sat Hellgum with an open Bible before him.  He raised his eyes and gave the old man a piercing look, then went on with his reading; this time aloud: 

“Even as ye think, we will be as the heathen, as the families of the countries, to serve wood and stone, it shall not be at all as ye think.  As I live, saith the Lord God, surely with a mighty hand, and with stretched-out arm, and with fury poured out, will I rule over you—­”

Without a word Strong Ingmar turned and walked out of the house.  That night he slept in the barn.  The following day he and Ingmar Ingmarsson set out for the forest to burn charcoal and fell timber.  They were to be gone the whole winter.

On two or three occasions Hellgum had spoken at prayer meetings and outlined his teaching, which he maintained was the only true Christianity.  But Hellgum, who was not as eloquent a speaker as Dagson, had made no converts.  Those who had met him outside and had only heard him say a few telling words, expected great things from him; but when he tried to deliver a lengthy address he became heavy, prosy, and tiresome.

***

Toward the close of summer Karin became utterly despondent over her condition.  She rarely spoke.  All day long she sat motionless in her chair.  She went to hear no more preachers, but stayed at home, brooding over her misfortune.  Once in a while she would repeat to Halvor her father’s old saying about the Ingmars not having anything to fear so long as they walked in the ways of God.  Now she had come to the conclusion that there was no truth even in that.

Halvor, not knowing what to do, on one occasion suggested that she talk with the newest preacher, but Karin declared that she would never again look to a parson for help.

One Sunday, toward the end of August, Karin sat at the window in the living-room.  A Sabbath stillness rested over the farm, and she could hardly keep awake.  Her head kept sinking nearer and nearer her breast, and presently she dropped into a doze.

She was suddenly awakened by the sound of a voice just outside her window.  She could not see who the speaker was, but the voice was strong and deep.  A more beautiful voice she had never heard.