felt a good deal of remorse for having taken her to some of the meetings. "But it never occurred to me, Thorborg, never once, that you could fall in with their ideas," he concluded regretfully. He advised her to say nothing about it till she had thought more about it.

Thorborg had some trying days now. She felt the conviction of the truth growing on her, but the love of this world came often near gaining the mastery of her. How often she sat in her beloved greenhouse and looked dreamily out over the sea, wondering how she should get strength to brave the storm of opposition she knew would rage against her as soon as she should embrace Mormonism. Then she thought of the wild West, where she would have to make her future home. How dreadful it would be to live without the sea, these lovely woods, teeming with flowers of every kind, these vales and dales, where every foot of ground was cultivated and bore fruit of some sort! How unattractive and wild Utah must be! Then came a soft, secret whispering, so soft and faint that Thorborg bent low her head to hear it, "He will be there to cheer me." And when she

thought of the anger of her parents it comforted her to remember that he was here to help her bear it. The "he" was, of course, Mr. Ibsen, whom poor Thorborg secretly loved, and she was almost sure that deep in his heart he loved her too. She

didn't know why she thought so; she could not think of anything he had ever said or looked that might have led her to think it. Perhaps it was just her own love that made her see more than ordinary friendship in his kind ways.

She had another talk with Ibsen, and went again to meeting the following Sunday. She had contrived so far to keep it secret; but she knew quite well that she was liable to be discovered any moment, and she feared it would be before she had been baptized, and then she might not have the courage to have it done right in the face of her parents' wrath.

The

Thorborg sat one afternoon at the window sewing when she saw the postman and Mr. Ibsen come to the gate simultaneously. former handed a letter to Mr. Ibsen, and she saw him with a glad smile; and thinking she should meet him on the stairs and perhaps arrange with him for her baptism, she hurried out, feeling secure, as her mother was taking her afternoon nap. She did not meet Mr. Ibsen on the stairs, however, and concluded he had changed his mind and gone out in town again. She proceeded downward, though, and thought she would take a turn in the garden, it being one of summer's last and beautiful days. At the entrance of her greenhouse, which had now changed to loveliest red and yellow, she was startled to find Mr. Ibsen. He had of late sometimes joined her and Emil there of an evening; and it was

not the fact that he was there which startled her, but the position in which she found him. Flung nearly half-way across the table, his face downward, he lay weeping and sobbing as if his heart would break. He had evidently not heard her, and Thorborg stood irresolutely wondering what she had better do, run away again and leave him to his grief; but her heart went out to him. She was on the verge of weeping herself. How she longed to comfort him! She stretched out a hand. Oh if she only dared lay it on his head and ask him to let her share his sorrow; but modesty forbade her. She came a little nearer. He heard her and looked up.

"Forgive me for intruding, Mr. Ibsen, but I thought you might need my-some comfort, and I had no idea you were here till I came. He had looked half annoyed, half ashamed when he first saw her; now he smiled kindly and said it was he that ought to beg pardon for taking possession of her greenhouse. She begged to let her try and help him in his grief if it was in her power. At this he blushed violently, and stammered that it was not grief but joy that had overcome him so. Thorborg felt relieved, and yet a little bit disappointed, and drew back involuntarily.

"Don't go, Miss Landsho; since you have manifested such sympathy for my sorrow perhaps it would interest you to hear the cause of my joy?" Thorborg

assured him it would, and he proceeded with some hesitation: "You see we were--I've never told you, Miss Landsho; it was my own affair, and I thought it could have no interest for youbut I have the sweetest, kindest, best little wife in the world. We were married a little over a year ago, and now she writes me that she has, that we have, a son, you know. Its our first-born, and I have fretted a great deal about being away like this; but now its all over, and they are both well and doing nicely."

He looked up, and was struck with the white face and unsteady lip of the young girl.

"Oh I can so easily understand your emotion, and how thankful you are, "she said, sympathetically, though her voice sounded constrained. "And now let me wish you much joy," she continued, holding out her hand. "I hope this boy may be a great blessing to you." He shook her hand and tried to say something, but could not, fumbling with the letter his eyes were blinded again by tears, and Thorborg hurriedly left him.

"There, the illusion is gone; the bubble has burst; good-by now to Mormonism, to love and all. I am thankful this happened before I had gone farther. now it was all wrong.

I see

I thought

it was Mormonism I believed in, but it was sheer selfish love for a man who never gave me a thought. This is my punishment; may I bear it patiently!"

She did bear it patiently. She was quiet and a little pale, but performed her duties as usual.

When she heard the church bells next Sunday morning she went to church, thinking they were calling her particularly.

Mr. Langman officiated again. today, and made his usual long. prayer in his earnest, pious way. Thorborg sat looking at the altarpiece, taking no notice of what the curate said or did. The prayer and singing were over; the sermon had begun, and still she sat rigidly looking at the painting representing the Lord's Supper. She wondered that Peter, who looked so brave, so manly, could deny his Master. She could easily imagine that Jesus had loved John more than the rest, if he had looked anything like this picture of him, as he lovingly leaned against his divine Master. She noticed the sneaking expression of Judas, and smiled as she thought she recognized Mr. Langman in some of his features. She looked up toward the pulpit to ascertain that the likeness really was there, and Mr. Langman looked straight at her, and said, as if it was meant for her:

in former days? Why did they not belong to the Church today? Was it possible that they were all stupid enough to swallow this without remonstrating? She looked around on the audience. They all sat placidly enough; there was no sign of indignation at his words that there was no necessity for these gifts now-a-days. such things were wrought in our days it was done by the power of the evil one. "Blasphemer!" whispered Thorborg under her breath; "there is no truth in you. To think that I have sat here time and again listening to his tales without ever seeing the absurdity of it." Should she sit quietly by now and by her presence sanction what must be abominable in the sight of the Lord! Such perversion of the truth! She looked at Peter once more; then she arose quietly and walked out of the church.

In the afternoon she took out the Doctrine and Covenants, which Mr. Ibsen had lent her, but in which she had not yet looked. She was much affected by what she read. It sounded like the commands of a just and indignant God, who demanded obedience. So different from the weeping, pleading Jesus of the Lutherans. She was awed and frightened. The end was near, and still she lingered on the enemy's ground, afraid of what people would say. It should not be so. What were other people to her? What was the world's

A few evenings later she stole unobserved away from home, with a little extra clothing, and presented herself before Mr. Ibsen, who was holding a small meeting at one of the Saints' homes, and asked him to baptize her. There was great rejoicing, but she asked the Saints to keep it secret as long as they could.

It was not a secret very long, however, and when it leaked out and Mr. and Mrs. Landsho got a hold of it, poor Thorborg had need of all her strength.

It would be painful to relate all she had to go through at home. It was even worse than she had feared. Her father raged, plead and threatened; her mother fell ill with excitement and anger, and her married brothers and sisters beseeched her with prayers to have pity on them and their aged, respected parents and not bring this awful shame on them. But Thorborg was firm and stayed by what she believed to be right, though she often very nearly dropped with fatigue.

The curate raged against the Mormons both publicly and in private, and stirred people up to

Violent measures against them. The Saints had to suffer a good deal through it, both individually and collectively.

When it was found that Thorborg was not to be moved, it was thought best to send her to Utah as soon as possible and get the matter hushed up.

So it happened that Thorborg came to Copenhagen, where she was to meet with other Saints who were going that same fall. She went to meeting the same evening she came, and what was her surprise to find the young man who offered up prayer to be no other than her old friend Severin Stephensen. She could hardly believe her own senses, and he was just as astonished to see her. He told her that he had believed Mormonism while at home in F., but fear of people's scorn had driven him away to Copenhagen, where he thought he could join the Church unknown to his people. He was going to emigrate to Utah now, and was overpleased to have her company. Stephensen had shook off his shyness, and Thorborg liked him much better this way. He asked her to go with him next evening to hear "Mignon," which she accepted.

Thorborg's brother came a day later to see her off, and he told her of the grief that reigned at home. The home seemed to be broken up, and he didn't know how they would ever get reconciled to her absence. One of the married sisters had to come home

and stay till the first sorrow was over. Their father had almost collapsed, and Mr. Ibsen had been obliged to seek other lodgings, as all the tenants had threatened to move if he was allowed to remain. Emil was much affected at the parting with his sister, and begged of Stephensen to take care of her on the

way.

Thorborg was going to Mr. Ibsen's home in one of the smaller towns in Utah, and Stephensen was bound for Salt Lake City.

They had a very pleasant journey, and young Stephensen was most attentive to Thorborg all

the way.

She traveled interme

diate, but for all that there were many things to put up with; but Thorborg took it as it came, and made herself very useful to the Saints generally, and she was quite a favorite on board ship, as well as on the railroad.

She and Stephensen used to sit and talk over their childhood days and later days also. Little incidents remembered by both became of great interest. And their home, its beautiful surroundings, the park and Slotz-sea, where Thorborg had dreamed her sweetest dreams, made a theme for daily conversation. She often grew sad when she thought of her home and parents, and one of her young dreams which had come to so little. But there was something within her which helped her bear all disappointments, and without that she could not have

stood, for there were many trials and disappointments in store for her.

Before the journey was over Stephensen had told Thorborg what she already knew, that he had loved her since his boyhood, and asked her to share life's ups and downs with him. And Thorborg thought that as she could. not get the one she wanted, she would rather marry Stephensen than anyone else she knew. She told him so, and he was content with what little she had to give, hoping that time and his love would change her feelings for him. He was not mistaken.

Thorborg has gone through a good deal of both one kind and another. She who was raised in a comfortable home, where everything was plentiful, has tasted the bitterness of poverty. Sickness

and death have come to her as to many others; but she has the most devoted husband, whom she loves better than she thinks she could ever have loved anyone else in this world. He has grown quite handsome now, and they often laugh together over the recollections of their youth, 'when he used to suffer untold tortures at Langman's gushing conversation, knowing how unable he was to cope with him.

Thorborg's mother had died shortly after her departure from home, and Mr. Landsho was liv. ing with one of his married daughters, whose eldest child, a girl who was much like Thorborg, he idolized. Emil was postmaster