Behold, Thou eternal Omnipotence,
how we requite Thy cruelty--we praise life: see how much more godlike we
are than Thou.
A temple, a temple for the modern spirit of man, hungry for
eternity--not for the babbling of prayers, but for a hymn from man's
munificent heart sent pealing up to heaven. Will it come--will it one
day be built?
One evening Peer came home from the post-office apparently in high
spirits. "Hi, Merle, I've got a letter from the Bruseth lady."
Merle glanced at Lorentz, who had instinctively come close to her, and
was looking at his father.
"From Bruseth? How is Louise getting on?" she asked.
"You can see for yourself. Here's the letter," said he.
Merle read it through hurriedly, and glanced at Lorentz once more.
That evening, after the children had gone to bed, the father and mother
sat up talking together in a low voice.
And Merle had to admit that her husband was right. It would be selfish
of them to keep the boy here, when he might be heir to Bruseth some day
if they let him go.
Suppose he stayed and worked here under his father and learned to be a
smith? The blacksmith's day is over--factories do all the work now.
And what schooling could he get away here in the country? Aunt Marit
offered to send him to a good school.--And so the die was cast for him
too.
But when they went with the boy to see him off at the station, the
mother's handkerchief was at her eyes all the time, do what she would.
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