Added Upon Part 17

With a low cry the girl turned and fled from the room.

XIII.

"The Lord alone did lead him."--_Deut. 32:12_.

One beautiful summer evening, Henrik Bogstad was baptized in the waters of the Christiania fjord. After that, the truths of the gospel appeared clearer than ever, and still whisperings of the Spirit, to which he now had legal right, testified to his spirit that he was in the way of salvation, narrow and straight perhaps, but glowing with a light that comforted and cheered.

He told none of his family or friends of his baptism. They had already rejected him as far as they could, and they asked him no questions. His sister would hardly speak to him, and Marie cut him openly. His many uncles, aunts, and cousins were cold and unfeeling. His mother, though feeble, and sinking slowly, was the only one of his family that he could talk to. She seemed to understand and believe him. He felt that in spirit they were one, and he received great comfort from the thought.

About Midsummer the mother died. Then Henrik spent most of his time at Nordal. There was peace in the solitude of the pine-clad hills, there was comfort in the waving fields of grain and the clear-flowing streams.

The lake spread out to his view from his window, and he gazed at its beauty, sometimes his mind wandering from the Dahl home on the island westward to unknown America. And America had a new meaning for him now.

Before, it had been simply a new wonder-land, with untold possibilities in a material way; but added to this there was now the fact that in America the Latter-day Zion was to be built; there the people of G.o.d were gathering, were building temples, preparatory to the glorious coming of the Lord.

Henrik soon caught the spirit of gathering, but he quenched it as much as possible. His brethren in the gospel advised him to remain where he was and do his full duty to his sister and their interests. This he tried to do. He would not quarrel with Selma, but was exceedingly patient and considerate. He would "talk religion" with any of his friends who expressed a desire to do so, but he would not contend.

Henrik mingled more freely with his tenants at Nordal, and they soon became aware of a change in him. He gave them good treatment. Sometimes, there were Sunday services in the large parlor of the Bogstad residence, and the people were invited to attend. They turned out, it must be admitted, more because of Hr. Bogstad's invitation than because of any enthusiasm on their part.

Henrik, during this period of comparative loneliness, read much. He always carried a book in his pocket when out among the hills and fields, and many a moss-covered stone became his reading table. He had procured a number of English books which he delighted in, for they brought to him much that had not yet been printed in his own language.

After the harvesting was over that summer, Henrik directed his attention to another line of work, pointed out to him by the New Light. He gathered the genealogy of his forefathers. His was a large family, and when he searched the old church records at Nordal, at Christiania, and at a number of other places he found that the family was an old and prominent one, reaching back to the ancient Nors.e.m.e.n. He derived a peculiar satisfaction in this work, and he extended his researches until he had a large list of names on his mother's side as well as on his father's. "Among these there are many n.o.ble and true," thought Henrik.

"Many will receive the gospel in the spirit world, and all will have the opportunity. I shall have the necessary earthly work done for them. If my labors for the living will not avail, my dead ancestors shall have their chance. Who knows but even now the gospel is being preached to them, and many of them are looking eagerly for someone to do their work for them." The thought filled him with enthusiasm.

The following spring Selma married, which left Henrik quite alone. He met Marie at the wedding festivities. She was silent and quiet. He made no strong efforts to win her back to him, so they drifted apart again.

Then Henrik arranged his affairs so that he could remain away for some months. He said he was going to America to visit his uncles in Minnesota,--and yes, very likely he would go farther west. His friends shook their heads misgivingly, but he only smiled at their fears.

Henrik sailed from Christiania in company with a party of his fellow-believers, and in due uneventful time, landed in the New World.

He found America a wonderfully big and interesting country. He went directly westward first, crossing the great plains and rugged mountains to the valleys beyond. Here he found and visited many of his former friends. He lived with the Latter-day Saints in their homes, and learned to know their true character and worth.

Then he saw the temples in which the Saints were doing a saving work both for the living and the dead. While in conversation with some of the temple workers, he told them of what he had in the way of genealogy, which they commended highly, telling him that he had an opportunity to do much good for his family.

"I am glad to hear you say that," replied he, "for you know, this work for the dead was what first impressed me in the gospel. It came to me naturally, it seems, for I had no trouble in accepting it."

Henrik learned much regarding the manner of procedure in this temple work. He could do the work for the male members of his family, but a woman must officiate for the female members. This was the true order, he found.

"Your sister or your wife or any other near relative would be the person to help you in this," said his informant.

Henrik shook his head. "I am the only member of the family that has received the gospel," he replied.

"Then, of course, any other sister in the faith will do; but the blessings for doing this work belongs to the nearest kin, if they will receive it. Have you no relatives in America?"

"Yes; a lot of them are up in Minnesota, but none that I know are Latter-day Saints--but I'll go and find out," he added as an afterthought.

And that is what Henrik did. Within a month he was on his way. He found his Uncle Ole living not far from St. Paul. He was a prosperous farmer with a family of grown-up sons and daughters who were pleased to see their kinsman from the homeland. All the news from all the family had to be told from both sides. Henrik was shown the big farm with its up-to-date American machinery and methods. He was driven behind blooded horses to the city and there introduced to many people. They knew that Henrik was a person of some importance back in Norway, and they wanted to show him that they also were "somebody." That seemed to be the principle upon which they lived. The father and mother still belonged to the Lutheran church. The three daughters had joined a Methodist congregation because their "set" was there. The two boys attended no church.

Henrik was disappointed. He saw plainly that here was no help for him.

All these were entrapped by the world. At first, Henrik said nothing about his own religious faith, but after a time he spoke of the subject to one of his girl cousins. She was not the least interested. He tried another with the same result. Then, one day at the table, he told them all plainly what he believed and what he was called. They were merely surprised. "That's all right," said his cousin Jack who voiced the universal opinion, "we live in a free country, you know, where one's religion isn't called into question."

Henrik's other uncle lived in the city. He was a mechanic, having worked for years in the railroad shops. Some months previous he had been discharged, and since then he had operated a small "tinker" shop of his own. Uncle Jens lived in a small rented house. Uncle Ole's visits to his brother were far between. "Brother Jens is shiftless," Uncle Ole said.

Henrik was, however, made welcome in the humble home, and he soon found the family a most interesting one. His uncle was a religious man, having, as he put it, "got religion" some years ago at a Baptist revival. He had joined that church and was an active member in it. The wife and some of the children were devout believers. They indulged in long family prayers and much scriptural reading. This branch of the Bogstad family called the wealthy farmer and his children a "G.o.dless lot."

Uncle Jens' oldest daughter, one about Henrik's own age, did not live at home, therefore he did not see her. He was getting well acquainted with the others, but Rachel he did not know.

"I must meet Rachel, too," he said one day to his uncle. "Where can I find her?"

"She works in a down-town department store; at night she stays with some friends of hers. The fact is that Rachel is peculiar. She is not one with us. She has been led astray--"

"Oh!" cried Henrik.

"She is not a bad girl--no, no; but she has been led away into a false religion, and as she will talk and argue with us all, I thought it best that she stay away from our home until she comes to her senses; but--"

"What is this religion that has caused her to err so badly?"

"Why, she calls herself a Latter-day Saint."

"What!"

"Yes; I've tried to reason with the girl, but it's been no use."

"I want to see her--now, today," said Henrik. "Give me her address."

"Shall I go with you?"

"No, I can find her,--you need not bother."

Henrik obtained the proper directions, and set out immediately. Was there then one other of his family that had received the gospel--one that could help him? He boarded a car, getting off at the store. Going to the department in which she worked, he asked the floor-walker where he could find Miss Bogstad. Then he saw her behind a counter, resting for a moment, unoccupied. Though she was an American, Henrik could see the Norwegian traits in his fair cousin. She was of the dark type, with round, rosy lips and cheeks, and heavy, brown hair.

"I am your cousin Henrik from Norway," he said as he shook her hand.

Her smile burst into a soft, merry laugh as she greeted him. "I am glad to see you," she said. "I heard you were here, but thought perhaps I might not get to meet you."

He held her hand a long time, as he looked into the pretty, sweet face.

Had he been an American, he would, no doubt, have kissed her then and there; but being a Norwegian, he only looked his wonder and pleasure.

They could not talk much because customers had to be served; but Henrik lingered until closing time, saying he would walk home with her that they might talk. She expressed her pleasure at the proposition; and promptly at the closing gong, she donned her wraps and joined him. The day was warm, and he suggested a walk around by the park, where they might sit down on a bench under the trees.

It was a difficult matter for seriously minded Uncle Jens and his family to laugh, and even a smile was seldom seen on their faces; but here was one who seemed bubbling over with merriment--one whose countenance shone as if from an inner light of happiness.

"Rachel," said Henrik, "your father has told me about you."

"Yes," she replied with sobering face, "they think I am a very bad girl,--but--"

"Look here cousin, don't make any apologies. I know, and understand."