Lenabegantocryandmoanafresh，beggingtheministertotakeherhome。HelookedhelplesslyatCanute。Canutesaidsimply，“Ifyouarewarmnow，youcanmarryus。“
　　“Mydaughter，doyoutakethisstepofyourownfreewill？“
　　askedtheministerinatremblingvoice。
　　“No，sir，Idon’t，anditisdisgracefulheshouldforcemeintoit！Iwon’tmarryhim。“
　　“Then，Canute，Icannotmarryyou，“saidtheminister，standingasstraightashisrheumaticlimbswouldlethim。
　　“Areyoureadytomarryusnow，sir？“saidCanute，layingoneironhandonhisstoopedshoulder。Thelittlepreacherwasagoodman，butlikemostmenofweakbodyhewasacowardandhadahorrorofphysicalsuffering，althoughhehadknownsomuchofit。
　　Sowithmanyqualmsofconsciencehebegantorepeatthemarriageservice。Lenasatsullenlyinherchair，staringatthefire。
　　Canutestoodbesideher，listeningwithhisheadbentreverentlyandhishandsfoldedonhisbreast。Whenthelittlemanhadprayedandsaidamen，Canutebeganbundlinghimupagain。
　　“Iwilltakeyouhome，now，“hesaidashecarriedhimoutandplacedhiminhisbuggy，andstartedoffwithhimthroughthefuryofthestorm，flounderingamongthesnowdriftsthatbroughteventhegianthimselftohisknees。
　　Aftershewasleftalone，Lenasoonceasedweeping。Shewasnotofaparticularlysensitivetemperament，andhadlittlepridebeyondthatofvanity。Afterthefirstbitterangerworeitselfout，shefeltnothingmorethanahealthysenseofhumiliationanddefeat。Shehadnoinclinationtorunaway，forshewasmarriednow，andinhereyesthatwasfinalandallrebellionwasuseless。Sheknewnothingaboutalicense，butsheknewthatapreachermarriedfolks。SheconsoledherselfbythinkingthatshehadalwaysintendedtomarryCanutesomeday，anyway。
　　Shegrewtiredofcryingandlookingintothefire，soshegotupandbegantolookabouther。ShehadheardqueertalesabouttheinsideofCanute’sshanty，andhercuriositysoongotthebetterofherrage。Oneofthefirstthingsshenoticedwasthenewblacksuitofclotheshangingonthewall。Shewasdull，butitdidnottakeavainwomanlongtointerpretanythingsodecidedlyflattering，andshewaspleasedinspiteofherself。Asshelookedthroughthecupboard，thegeneralairofneglectanddiscomfortmadeherpitythemanwholivedthere。
　　“Poorfellow，nowonderhewantstogetmarriedtogetsomebodytowashuphisdishes。Batchin’sprettyhardonaman。“
　　Itiseasytopitywhenonceone’svanityhasbeentickled。
　　Shelookedatthewindowsillandgavealittleshudderandwonderedifthemanwerecrazy。ThenshesatdownagainandsatalongtimewonderingwhatherDickandOlewoulddo。
　　“ItisqueerDickdidn’tcomerightoverafterme。Hesurelycame，forhewouldhavelefttownbeforethestormbeganandhemightjustaswellcomerightonasgoback。Ifhe’dhurriedhewouldhavegottenherebeforethepreachercame。Isupposehewasafraidtocome，forheknewCanutesoncouldpoundhimtojelly，thecoward！“Hereyesflashedangrily。
　　ThewearyhoursworeonandLenabegantogrowhorriblylonesome。Itwasanuncannynightandthiswasanuncannyplacetobein。Shecouldhearthecoyoteshowlinghungrilyalittlewayfromthecabin，andmoreterriblestillwerealltheunknownnoisesofthestorm。Sherememberedthetalestheytoldofthebiglogoverheadandshewasafraidofthosesnakythingsonthewindowsills。Sherememberedthemanwhohadbeenkilledinthedraw，andshewonderedwhatshewoulddoifshesawcrazyLou’swhitefaceglaringintothewindow。Therattlingofthedoorbecameunbearable，shethoughtthelatchmustbelooseandtookthelamptolookatit。Thenforthefirsttimeshesawtheuglybrownsnakeskinswhosedeathrattlesoundedeverytimethewindjarredthedoor。
　　“Canute，Canute！“shescreamedinterror。
　　Outsidethedoorsheheardaheavysoundasofabigdoggettingupandshakinghimself。ThedooropenedandCanutestoodbeforeher，whiteasasnowdrift。
　　“Whatisit？“heaskedkindly。
　　“Iamcold，“shefaltered。
　　Hewentoutandgotanarmfulofwoodandabasketofcobsandfilledthestove。Thenhewentoutandlayinthesnowbeforethedoor。Presentlyheheardhercallingagain。
　　“Whatisit？“hesaid，sittingup。
　　“I’msolonesome，I’mafraidtostayinhereallalone。“
　　“Iwillgooverandgetyourmother。“Andhegotup。
　　“Shewon’tcome。“
　　“I’llbringher，“saidCanutegrimly。
　　“No，no。Idon’twanther，shewillscoldallthetime。“
　　“Well，Iwillbringyourfather。“
　　Shespokeagainanditseemedasthoughhermouthwascloseuptothekey-hole。Shespokelowerthanhehadeverheardherspeakbefore，solowthathehadtoputhisearuptothelocktohearher。
　　“Idon’twanthimeither，Canute，——I’dratherhaveyou。“
　　Foramomentsheheardnonoiseatall，thensomethinglikeagroan。Withacryoffearsheopenedthedoor，andsawCanutestretchedinthesnowatherfeet，hisfaceinhishands，sobbingonthedoorstep。
　　EndEricHermannson’sSoulItwasagreatnightattheLoneStarschoolhouse——anightwhentheSpiritwaspresentwithpowerandwhenGodwasveryneartoman。SoitseemedtoAsaSkinner，servantofGodandFreeGospeller。Theschoolhousewascrowdedwiththesavedandsanctified，robustmenandwomen，tremblingandquailingbeforethepowerofsomemysteriouspsychicforce。Hereandthereamongthiscowering，sweatingmultitudecrouchedsomepoorwretchwhohadfeltthepangsofanawakenedconscience，buthadnotyetexperiencedthatcompletedivestmentofreason，thatfrenzybornofaconvulsionofthemind，which，intheparlanceoftheFreeGospellers，istermed“theLight。“Onthefloorbeforethemourners’benchlaytheunconsciousfigureofamaninwhomoutragednaturehadsoughtherlastresort。This“trance“stateisthehighestevidenceofgraceamongtheFreeGospellers，andindicatesaclosewalkingwithGod。
　　BeforethedeskstoodAsaSkinner，shoutingofthemercyandvengeanceofGod，andinhiseyesshoneaterribleearnestness，analmostpropheticflame。AsawasaconvertedtraingamblerwhousedtorunbetweenOmahaandDenver。Hewasamanmadefortheextremesoflife；fromthemostdebauchedofmenhehadbecomethemostascetic。Hiswasabestialface，a。facethatborethestampofNature’seternalinjustice。Theforeheadwaslow，projectingovertheeyes，andthesandyhairwasplastereddownoveritandthenbrushedbackatanabruptrightangle。Thechinwasheavy，thenostrilswerelowandwide，andthelowerliphunglooselyexceptinhismomentsofspasmodicearnestness，whenitshutlikeasteeltrap。Yetaboutthosecoarsefeaturesthereweredeep，ruggedfurrows，thescarsofmanyahand-to-handstrugglewiththeweaknessoftheflesh，andaboutthatdroopinglipweresharp，strenuouslinesthathadconquereditandtaughtittopray。Overthoseseamedcheekstherewasacertainpallor，agreynesscaughtfrommanyavigil。Itwasasthough，afterNaturehaddoneherworstwiththatface，somefinechiselhadgoneoverit，chasteningandalmosttransfiguringit。Tonight，ashismusclestwitchedwithemotion，andtheperspirationdroppedfromhishairandchin，therewasacertainconvincingpowerintheman。ForAsaSkinnerwasamanpossessedofabelief，ofthatsentimentofthesublimebeforewhichallinequalitiesareleveled，thattransportofconvictionwhichseemssuperiortoalllawsofcondition，underwhichdebaucheeshavebecomemartyrs；whichmadeatinkeranartistandacamel-driverthefounderofanempire。ThiswaswithAsaSkinnertonight，ashestoodproclaimingthevengeanceofGod。
　　ItmighthaveoccurredtoanimpartialobserverthatAsaSkinner’sGodwasindeedavengefulGodifhecouldreservevengeanceforthoseofhiscreatureswhowerepackedintotheLoneStarschoolhousethatnight。Poorexilesofallnations；menfromthesouthandthenorth，peasantsfromalmosteverycountryofEurope，mostofthemfromthemountainous，night-boundcoastofNorway。Honestmenforthemostpart，butmenwithwhomtheworldhaddealthardly；thefailuresofallcountries，mensoberedbytoilandsaddenedbyexile，whohadbeendriventofightforthedominionofanuntowardsoil，tosowwhereothersshouldgather，theadvanceguardofamightycivilizationtobe。
　　NeverhadAsaSkinnerspokenmoreearnestlythannow。HefeltthattheLordhadthisnightaspecialworkforhimtodo。TonightEricHermannson，thewildestladonalltheDivide，satinhisaudiencewithafiddleonhisknee，justashehaddroppedinonhiswaytoplayforsomedance。TheviolinisanobjectofparticularabhorrencetotheFreeGospellers。Theirantagonismtothechurchorganisbitterenough，butthefiddletheyregardasaveryincarnationofevildesires，singingforeverofworldlypleasuresandinseparablyassociatedwithallforbiddenthings。
　　EricHermannsonhadlongbeentheobjectoftheprayersoftherevivalists。HismotherhadfeltthepoweroftheSpiritweeksago，andspecialprayer-meetingshadbeenheldatherhouseforherson。ButErichadonlygonehiswayslaughing，thewaysofyouth，whichareshortenoughatbest，andnonetoofloweryontheDivide。
　　Heslippedawayfromtheprayer-meetingstomeettheCampbellboysinGenereau’ssaloon，orhugtheplumplittleFrenchgirlsatChevalier’sdances，andsometimes，ofasummernight，heevenwentacrossthedewycornfieldsandthroughthewild-plumthickettoplaythefiddleforLenaHanson，whosenamewasareproachthroughalltheDividecountry，wherethewomenareusuallytooplainandtoobusyandtootiredtodepartfromthewaysofvirtue。OnsuchoccasionsLena，attiredinapinkwrapperandsilkstockingsandtinypinkslippers，wouldsingtohim，accompanyingherselfonabatteredguitar。Itgavehimadelicioussenseoffreedomandexperiencetobewithawomanwho，nomatterhow，hadlivedinbigcitiesandknewthewaysoftownfolk，whohadneverworkedinthefieldsandhadkeptherhandswhiteandsoft，herthroatfairandtender，whohadheardgreatsingersinDenverandSaltLake，andwhoknewthestrangelanguageofflatteryandidlenessandmirth。
　　Yet，carelessasheseemed，thefranticprayersofhismotherwerenotaltogetherwithouttheireffectuponEric。Fordayshehadbeenfleeingbeforethemasacriminalfromhispursuers，andoverhispleasureshadfallentheshadowofsomethingdarkandterriblethatdoggedhissteps。Theharderhedanced，thelouderhesang，themorewasheconsciousthatthisphantomwasgaininguponhim，thatintimeitwouldtrackhimdown。OneSundayafternoon，lateinthefall，whenhehadbeendrinkingbeerwithLenaHansonandlisteningtoasongwhichmadehischeeksburn，arattlesnakehadcrawledoutofthesideofthesodhouseandthrustitsuglyheadinunderthescreendoor。Hewasnotafraidofsnakes，butheknewenoughofGospellismtofeelthesignificanceofthereptilelyingcoiledthereuponherdoorstep。HislipswerecoldwhenhekissedLenagoodbye，andhewenttherenomore。