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he has saved enough, he gives him a sign that his
people need him.”
“But if he refuses to see the sign, Gösta Berling?”
“He cannot withstand it,” said Gösta, smiling
happily; “he is so lured by the thought of the warm
homes he will help the poor to build.”
The parson looked down at the small erections
he had made of twigs. The longer he talked with
Gösta, the more he felt him to be right.
He has always had the idea of doing good when
he has saved enough. He catches at this. Of course,
he has always had that thought.
“Why does he not build the cottages then?” he
asks, furtively.
“He is ashamed. People might believe that it
is for fear of them that he does what he has always
intended to do.”
“He cannot endure being forced, that is the reason.”
“He could do much in secret; much help is
needed this year. He could find some one to
distribute his gifts. I see it all,” cried Gösta, his eyes
beaming; “thousands shall receive their bread this
year from one whom they have covered with
curses.”
“So shall it be. Gösta!”
A whirl of enthusiasm seemed to seize upon
these two, who had filled their calling so badly.
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