One day Johnsen actually found himself hesitating before the door of his school, shrinking from going into its tainted atmosphere, when it was not actually necessary for him to do so.  The discovery caused him at first the greatest uneasiness.  Now, however, Rachel’s society was beginning to have more influence over him.  It was no longer the comfort of Sandsgaard which attracted him—­of that he was quite certain; neither had he any feeling for the young lady except interest, a deep, earnest interest, after all the stirring impressions he had received through her.  She had a wonderful power over him.  Her words seemed to shed a ray of light over much which he had hitherto overlooked.  He had, like the rest of us, the germs of doubt in his heart, and he was still so young and fresh that his aspirations were but loosely covered, and had not yet had time to wither entirely in his heart.  When, therefore, he was suddenly thrown into the society of a woman of such intellectual power, his mind seemed as it were to awake, and her influence and his own reviving energies kindled within him a desire for action which increased with each day that passed.  The tiresome and uninteresting work of his daily life seemed aimless to him.  He must find some other means of publishing his convictions—­this was now clear to him.  He went, therefore, to his adviser, ready to engage in any combat into which she might think fit to send him.

Rachel generally did at home pretty much as she liked.  She disdained all the hundred restraints which are generally considered so necessary for a young girl; they plainly did not apply in her case—­she was so different to others.  As soon, therefore, as Johnsen had exchanged a few words with old Mrs. Garman, she said, without further ado, “Come, Mr. Johnsen, let us take a turn in the garden,” without her mother being in the least astonished.  Rachel had grown up quite beyond her power of restraint, and if it came to the worst, thought Mrs. Garman, this unusual penchant for a clergyman was not the worst one Rachel could have hit upon.

The two went down into the garden, where they walked as usual up and down the central path.  He found it rather difficult to lead the conversation in the direction he wished.  His tone was therefore somewhat doubtful, as he said, “I have thought a great deal about our last conversation; in fact, I have hardly thought of anything else since, and, with your permission, I should like to say a few more words on the same subject.”

“I am always glad to talk with you,” answered Rachel, fixing her eyes upon him.  Rachel had the same clear blue eyes as her father, to whom, in fact, she bore considerable resemblance, even in the slight projection of her under jaw.  Her dark hair was faintly tinged with red, especially at the temples, and her tall and well-built figure rendered her appearance rather more imposing than attractive.  The young men generally were absolutely afraid of