the heavens are too high. Once when I returned from work--it was
already evening--mother and father sat in front of the house in
consultation about us children, as they often did. I did not want to
disturb them, therefore I sat down not very far away and listened."

"Do you think, then," said mother, "that one of the children will have
to go to America?"

"You see, my wife, there the people achieve something quicker than we
do here. We suffer bravely and yet barely live," sighed father. He was
a good man but already worn out by hard labor.

"'And which one do you think should?' mother asked with a sigh.

"'That we will leave for them to decide. I think thus: Let one stay at
home and take Eva for his wife, so you have some help. Let the other
one go to America for a few years, and after he has made some money
and God granting that he will return safely, then they may live
together. I would not like that after our death they should be
separated. It is well for them to be together.'

"I noticed how mother gave a sigh of relief, but to me it seemed as if
someone stuck a dagger into me. They surely expected me to go. Stephen
would remain at home and take Eva. That night I did not sleep at home.
A similar trouble overtook me as in my childhood, only stronger and
much more terrible. Where I gathered strength to return in the morning
I do not know. Eva ran to meet me, and as soon as I saw her I told
myself that verily, I would never go to America, and Eva must never
belong to anyone else but to me. Since that hour I could hardly give a
kind look to Stephen though he gave me no reason for anger.