"Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he
cannot be my disciple."--_Luke 14:33._
"I cannot understand him," Frue Bogstad was saying. "His actions are so
strange."
"It's simply wicked of him," added Froken Selma Bogstad. "He is bringing
the whole family into disrepute."
The mother did not reply, but turned her face thoughtfully away from the
angry daughter.
"The boy is completely carried away with this American religion,"
continued the girl, pacing nervously back and forth in the room. "Pastor
Tonset called to see him the other day, and you ought to have heard
them! The pastor, as our friend, came to advise him; but do you think
Henrik would take any advice? Why, he even argued with the pastor,
saying that he could prove the truth of this religion from the
Scriptures."
"Has he talked to you about it?"
"Yes; and he wanted me to accompany him to Osterhausgaden where these
people hold meetings. I told him definitely and forcibly that I didn't
want him to mention religion to me."
"He seems to be in such deep earnest."
"And that's the pity of it. It does no good to talk to him. He takes it
for granted that he should be persecuted. I believe he is ready to give
up everything for this creed that has him in its grasp."
A violent ringing of the bell brought Selma to the door. It was Henrik,
who had forgotten his latch key. He hung up his hat, wiped the
perspiration from his face, for it was a warm evening; then he said
cheerily:
"Spring is coming; I feel it in the air. I'll be glad to get out to
Nordal--there is so much to do this summer--"
"Young man," interrupted the sister, "we have been talking about you."
"About my wickedness, I suppose."
"About your foolishness. It isn't very pleasant for us--what you're
doing."
"What am I doing? That which is unkind to you, mother?" He placed his
arms lovingly around her shoulders, but she sat without replying, her
face in her handkerchief. He turned to Selma.
"What have I done?" he asked. "Do I drink? Do I gamble? Do I steal? Do I
lie? Do I profane? Do I treat any of you unkindly? Am I disrespectful to
my mother or my sister?"
"You associate with a people known everywhere as the scum of the earth,"
snapped the sister, as she stood in front of him. "You are disgracing
us--the whole Bogstad family--you--but what's the use of talking to
you."
"Not a bit of use that way, dear sister. Suppose you answer some of my
questions. You accuse, but never bring proof. You would rather believe
uninformed people than me. You accept hearsay, but will not listen to
the truth I wish to tell you. I have asked you to point out some of the
bad things taught by the Latter-day Saints, but so far you have never
tried. I have invited you to go with me--"
"Do you think I would thus disgrace myself to appear in their meetings!"
"You will not even read a simple tract; you close your eyes and ears.
You push God from you when you say that He does not reveal Himself any
more; and so does Pastor Tonset and all his followers. Because I am
willing to receive light, even though it comes from a 'sect everywhere
spoken against,' I am a bad man. I tell you, my sister, and also you, my
mother, I may be looked upon as a disgrace to the Bogstad family, but
the time will come when you and all that family will thank the Lord that
one member of the family heard the truth, and had courage enough to
accept it!"
Selma walked to the door, and now passed out without replying. Henrik
sat down by his mother, and the two continued to converse in low, quiet
tones.
The mother's hair was white, the face pinched from much suffering, the
hands shrunken. Selma's talk disturbed her, as did that of a score or
more of interested relatives; but when she talked with Henrik alone she
was at peace, and she listened quietly to what he told her. She was so
old and weak and traditionated in the belief of her fathers that she
could grasp but feebly the principles taught her by Henrik; but this she
knew, that there was something in his tone and manner of speech that
soothed her and drove away the resentment and hardness of heart left by
the talk of others.
"You know, mother," Henrik was saying, "this restored gospel answers so
many of life's perplexing questions. It is broad, full of common sense,
and mercy. Father, as you well know, was not a religious man. When he
died, Pastor Tonset gave it as his opinion that father was a lost
soul--"
"Father was a good man."
"I know he was, mother; and to say that because he could not believe in
the many inconsistencies taught as religious truths, he is everlastingly
lost, doesn't appeal to me--never did. Father, as all of us, will
continue to learn in the spirit world to which all must go; and when the
time comes, he will, no doubt, see the truths of the gospel and accept
them. And here is where the beauty of true religion comes in: it teaches
that there is hope beyond the grave; that salvation is not limited to
this life; that every soul will have a chance, either here or hereafter.
You, mother, have worried over father's condition. Don't do it any more;
he will be all right." He felt like adding that she had more reason to
worry over the living, but he said no more.
Selma came in with the coffee, and no further discourse was had on
religious topics. Although Henrik had quit using coffee with his meals,
he occasionally sipped a little in the company of his mother. This
evening he took the proffered cup from his sister, who soon withdrew
again, and then Henrik and his mother continued their talk. It was along
the lines of the old faith, grounded into them and their forefathers
since Christianity had been "reformed" in their country. As a boy,
Henrik had not been religious, as that term was understood by his
people, but nevertheless he had in him a strain of true devotion which
the message of the American missionary had aroused. However, this
revival within the young man did not meet with the favor of his friends,
and he was looked upon as having come under the influence of some evil,
heretical power, much to their regret.
"Marie is here," announced Selma from the door.