The Home in the Valley

The Agreement.

With pleased astonishment she lifted her eyes, and saw an individual whom we need scarcely inform our readers was the owner of the knapsack. He was descending a hill, holding to his lips a blade of grass, upon which he would occasionally blow a vigorous and ear-piercing blast.

"Have you come at last, my naiad queen?" said the youth. "We were such pleasant companions last evening, that I came hither in the hope of finding you at your bath again."

"A naiad queen might bathe her feet before you; but I—" She ceased speaking, and a deep blush suffused her cheeks.

"Ah! then you know something about the naiads, my child?"

"Yes, and about the sylphs, too," replied Nanna, nodding her head, proud at having an opportunity of displaying her knowledge before one whom, besides her father, was the only person that she had ever cared to interest.

"You surprise me! What have you read?"

"O, a little of everything. My father has a large book case, and I have a small collection of books, myself."

"Hm, hm," said the embryo secretary, "but enumerate to me some of the books you have read."

"Do you really wish to know?"

"But I shall not answer you, sir, if you call me Mademoiselle; it sounds so cold and disagreeable."

"Well, I will be careful not to do so; but let us make a commencement."

"With my qualifications?"

"Certainly; but why do you sit at such a distance?"

"We are not so far from each other."

"That proves you to be no mathematician. Now, tell me, how many yards distance are there between us?"

"Three, I think."

"Poor child, you have not reached your A B C's in arithmetic; but I will be your instructor."

"How so?"

"You shall soon see." He quickly unloosed his neckcloth. "This," he continued, "is precisely one yard in length. Now, I will measure the ground, and when I have measured three yards, then—"

"What then?"

"Then I will seat myself; for you have yourself chosen the distance."

"Well," said he, assuming a comfortable position, "I can touch you, at least, now."

"Yes," replied Nanna seriously, for she was musing on Magde's words of caution, "yes, you can; but I do not wish you to."

"You do not?"

"I do not," replied she firmly.

"What an obstinate little creature you are!"

"You desired to know what I have read," said Nanna, wishing to change the subject of conversation.

"True, but why do you hide your little hand under your apron, I shall not touch it without your permission?"

Nanna smiled as she slowly withdrew her hands from their place of concealment and folded them upon her lap.

"Now, my child," said the young man with an assumed air of dignity, "first of all, you may commence at the beginning."

"Well, what happened?"

"Next I studied the catechism, which I liked very much, then I commenced reading the bible, a book which I love above all others, the new testament especially. All that I do not understand my father explains to me, and after he has finished, I go alone to my room, and as I read I cannot refrain from weeping—But my tears are not sorrowful, I think only of—"

"Of what?"

"I know not whether I should tell you that."

"Certainly you should; am I not your friend?"

"Well then—but do not speak about it to any one—I cannot help thinking that if I had lived when our Saviour was upon earth, I should have been one of the holy women."

"Who ever heard of such ambition! Why perhaps you would like to have been the virgin Mary, herself?"

"Oh," exclaimed Nanna, turning her face, that she might conceal the blush, which his words of ridicule, as she esteemed them, had called forth.

"But, my child," continued her companion, "we will dwell no longer upon your holy thoughts, so different from others of your age; proceed if you please."

"You surprise me! Your education has not been neglected; but you can write, can you not?"

"Certainly, and I have also practised drawing a little."

"Indeed! upon my honor, Mademoiselle Nanna you frighten me!"

"Why?"

"Because I cannot comprehend how you can use all your knowledge in this valley."

"I have often thought of that," replied Nanna, sighing deeply.

"Perhaps, it is not such a terrible matter after all," said Gottlieb, "I must thoroughly convince myself."

Gottlieb now commenced to examine and cross-question Nanna in the various departments of learning that she had mentioned, and was pleased to discover by her accurate replies that she comprehended thoroughly all that she had studied. In fact, Nanna was quite his equal in her knowledge of Ancient Mythology, which had always been her favorite study.

"But how is it possible that your father should be so well educated? Yesterday, when we were walking together, you told me that he had resided in this valley nearly half his lifetime, with scarcely sufficient means to support himself and family."

"I must call upon your father some pleasant evening. Do you think he would be pleased to see me?"

"Of course, and Magde would also."

"Your sister-in-law? Well, well, I will soon visit them both; but listen now—"

"I will."

"As the error has already been committed—"

"What error?"

"That you should have been taught more than you ought to know; but still, it is now too late to repent as you have already learned a little, and I do not think there will be any harm in teaching you more."

"Who will teach me?"

"I shall of course.—I have an idea."

Nanna glanced inquiringly towards her companion. "You might be able," he continued, "to earn a little competency for yourself; would you be willing to become a school-teacher?"

"O, yes, nothing could be better! Then I would not be obliged to think of—of—"

"Of marriage?"

"Yes, of marriage."

"I do not know; there is the parish tailor, who has already spoken to Magde about it—"

"The parish tailor!—Aha!"

"And Captain Larsson who owns a sloop, offered Ragnar two barrels of rye flour if he would speak a good word to me about him."

"Two barrels of rye flour as a bribe! And your brother's reply?"

"O, Ragnar is not to be played with," replied Nanna; "'if you wish to purchase my sister,' said he, 'you had better speak to her yourself, she has not authorized me to sell her.'"

"So you have two lovers!"

"Yes, and the sexton, an old widower, is the third. He has considerable wealth, and therefore applied to my father, himself."

"Without success?"

"Yes, father told him I was too young."

"Do you not prefer either of your suitors?"

"I would rather throw myself into lake Wenner, than to marry either of them."

"Then let us speak of the school. It will give you a little income, and is, as far as I can see, the only method of using your accomplishments to advantage."

"You are right. It is my only choice."

"I fear so too, for a lover suitable for you would not in all probability find his way hither; but in me you have found a friend at least."

"Thank God, for that."

"But it is necessary that we should make one agreement—"

"What is it?"

"That we shall not fall in love with each other."

"Oh, there is no danger!"

"Ah! who can be sure of that? You possess beauties beyond your personal charms, Miss Nanna, that may conquer me in spite of myself."

"You are also beautiful; but I do not believe that—that—"

"You do not believe that you would ever fall in love with me, you were about saying. Upon my word that is so much the better, for to speak truly I am placed in as bad circumstances as you are yourself."

"You are!"

"Yes, yes, I speak the truth. My only ambition is to become an assistant in my father's office."

"If that is the case," said Nanna, "you must fall in love with a rich girl only."

"I shall be careful of my own interests I assure you," replied Gottlieb, "but now this perplexing point is rightly settled—is it not?"

"Yes, and now we must make another arrangement, which is that we must agree to meet each other during the evening hours at this spot. I own many books that will be useful to you, and if you can sing—"

"I can sing a little, and the old sexton says my voice is beautiful."

"Allow me to hear you sing."

"To-morrow, I cannot this evening."

"O, you should not refuse a friend in that manner. It would be quite different if I was your lover."

Without further words, Nanna commenced singing an old ballad, and her sweet voice, as she trilled forth the beautiful words of her song, fell upon the ear of her young companion like the soft music of a bird.

"You sing excellently, Nanna, and I think your voice would be improved if you could play upon the guitar. I have one at home, and might bring it with me."

"But the guitar would not benefit my future pupils."

"It will serve for your amusement after your scholars have left you in the afternoon. You will find such a relaxation quite necessary, and when you play upon it, and sing one of your beautiful ballads, you will think of your friend."

"And drive away the tedium of the long hours.—O, sir, you are too kind!"

"Thanks, Sir Gottlieb! What a beautiful name! But it is quite late!"

Nanna, who was fearful that Magde, anxious at her long absence, would come in search of her, arose from her seat upon the grass, and hastily departed.

The Chase.

The next morning, a few hours before Carl, whistling a ballad of which he was the author, commenced his journey over ditches and stiles, to fulfill his engagement to watch with the children of the peasant woman, Mr. Fabian H—— was awakened by his affectionate wife, who informed him that it was time for him to prepare himself for his hunting expedition.

Sleepy, and unwilling to leave his cozy bed, for the sake of enjoying the damp morning air, Mr. Fabian addressed his spouse with all the tenderness which his state of mind would permit:

Mistress Ulrica, however, did not permit herself to be moved by this gentle epithet.

"Fabian," said she, shaking his shoulder roughly, "you are going to sleep again. Quick! get up! I have had your top boots nicely greased, and on the chair you will find your hunting coat and game-bag. Everything is made as comfortable as possible."

"Sweet Ulgenie," expostulated Mr. Fabian.

The amiable lady smiled as she heard him speak, and had not an unfortunate yawn accompanied those two tender words, in all probability they would have terminated this chapter. But the word yawn is not found in Love's dictionary, and consequently the unlucky husband was forced to rise from his bed preparatory to going forth to perform deeds of valor in obedience to the commands of his mistress.

"Do not neglect to awaken Gottlieb. He also must learn the noble art of hunting."

We now see this martyr to the holy cause of matrimony, puffing and blowing beneath the weight of his heavy gun, as he wends his way across the fields towards a certain spot in the forest at which he finally arrives. He looks around him with searching eyes; his brow is clouded with anxiety and impatience. Suddenly his eyes gleam with an expression of joy; but he instantly recovers himself and assumes an air of dignified composure, while he gazes angrily upon the form of a man, who is approaching him through the trees.

"Fool! you have kept me waiting!" said he harshly as the man advanced.

Thus sang or hummed Carl as he proceeded on his way.

Suddenly he experienced a strong desire to rush into the woods to listen to the sighing of the wind as it swept through the high branches of the trees. In this music Carl took such delight that he would listen to it, for hours, while great tears of pleasure and excitement would roll down his sun-burnt cheeks. But it was the pleasure and excitement of a religious enthusiast in the house of the God he worshipped. Carl never spoke of these sentiments, and how would it have been possible for him to do so. He never thought from whence they originated. He followed his inclination only.

While Carl was thus engaged he suddenly saw an object which caused him instantly to neglect the sound of his favorite music. In the grass near the fence over which Carl was about climbing, he saw the slumbering huntsman, with the freshly killed game reposing at his side.

Carl laughed silently. He extended his hand towards the sleeping man, and then withdrew it undecidedly. Our friend Carl possessed a few indistinct ideas concerning the law of meum and teum. By dint of great exertion, his father had implanted in his mind the great necessity of observing the eighth commandment, and upon the present occasion the lesson of his younger days interfered in a great degree with the accomplishment of his present designs; for as he gazed upon the objects of his envy, he muttered to himself:

"The Eighth Commandment: Thou shalt not steal!"

His brain was not only troubled with the eighth, but the words of the tenth commandment came to his memory, "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his servant, nor his maid, nor his ox, nor his ass."

As he thus spoke, and thought first of the commandments and then of Magde, he continued to advance and retreat, wavering in his decision, and he might have remained in this state until Mr. Fabian awoke, had not a bright idea forced itself upon his mind.

In the meantime, Mr. Fabian's assistant, who had not yet left the forest, having been attracted by Carl's movements, had been an eye-witness to his proceedings. But instead of warning the lad of his crime, the spectator seemed rather to rejoice at his patron's misfortune. He might safely do this, for after the crime had been committed, he could easily disclose the name of the thief, and thus avert suspicion from himself. He thought that Mr. H—— would not injure a person of Carl's character, and that at all events he would be likely to receive a proper reward for any zeal he should exert to promote the interest of his employer. Carl had discovered that his actions had been observed; but as the spectator, by sundry winks and nods, seemed rather to encourage than to prevent him, Carl proceeded without fear.

And now, having won the victory, he hastened to Magde.

But here trouble awaited him.

"Is it not enough that it is here?" said Carl, as he stood on the threshold, twirling his hat in his hand.

"Heavens! I trust you have not procured it in an unlawful way?"

"No, I got it while going the right way," replied Carl, mischievously.

"My dear Carl," said Magde, seriously, "you must not think to deceive me by your cunning words."

"You should not say so," answered Carl, sulkily.

"No, I should not, Carl, I spoke foolishly; but if you are a good boy, and love me, you will tell me who has given you this game, or whether you have promised to pay for it by working by-and-bye."

"I have already worked for it," said Carl, with a laugh, "but I must go now, or else I will be too late at Sunnangaarden."

Thus saying, Carl was about putting his long legs in active motion, when Magde exclaimed:

"Carl! Carl! a word more! stop, Carl!"

"I have staid too long already," said Carl; but still he remained.

"Tell me frankly, Carl, did you procure the game honestly?"

"If you doubt my honor, I will refer you to the catechism. Do you believe in the catechism?"

"Is it true then that you have done nothing contrary to its precepts?"

"It is indeed true," replied Carl, gravely.

"Then I am satisfied," said Magde, "and I am grateful to you, my good Carl, for the welcome present."

"Good? Yes, can I really believe you, Magde?"

"Yes, I so consider you, and therefore I am good to you."

Carl commenced laughing, and assumed a crane-like position, as he balanced himself upon one leg. This was his usual custom when pleased.

"Well, well, then you love poor Carl a little. That's good!"

"Carl is my good boy," replied Magde, who during the conversation had been engaged in spreading out a number of skeins of knitting yarn that had been placed out to bleach upon the grass plot.

"Listen," said Carl, approaching nigher to Magde, "would Magde shed a tear upon my grave if God should call me from earth?"

"Certainly, Carl, I would shed many, many tears, for I believe there are none who love you as I do."

"I am grateful, Magde," said Carl, violently scraping the ground with the sole of his hob-nailed shoe, an action which could scarcely be called a bow—"your words shall be remembered. I am Magde's servant, and shall be so as long as I live."

With these words, he turned on his heel, and trotted towards his place of destination.

"The poor lad has a good heart," thought Magde, as she concluded her labors in the yard; but she little imagined the true state of Carl's heart.

Magde now entered the house to prepare breakfast. Her three children crowded around her, loudly testifying their admiration of the partridges and hares. She commenced dressing the game with that placidity of countenance, and with that dexterity which proved she was well versed in that most important branch of a housekeeper's duties—cookery.

Concerning the Hunter in the Woods, and his homeward walk.

We now return to our friend the sportsman, who soon awoke from his sound slumber, quite refreshed. He yawned, stretched himself, and mechanically extended his hand towards the spot where he had placed his game-bag.

Determined, however, not to believe in such marvels, for honest Fabian was a man of intelligence, he arose and peered through the bushes in the grass; he looked in the air, and he closely scanned the tops of the trees; but his efforts were fruitless. The game was not to be found.

"It is astonishing!" said he to himself. "I can not believe it! They must be here! But where the devil are they then!"

The trees retained a stubborn silence, and their example was followed by the earth, the air, and the water. Although the heat of the day was rendered still more insufferable by Mr. Fabian's thick hunting suit, yet his flesh chilled with fear when he discovered the actual loss of his partridges and hares.

To return home without his game, was a misfortune, which under ordinary circumstances he could have endured; but on this occasion he had reason to expect a more than usually severe lecture from his wife whose command he had stubbornly disobeyed by not awakening Gottlieb. While the unfortunate sportsman was bewailing his fate he discovered the face of his "butler," who was peering out from between the bushes with an expression of mingled humility and mirthfulness.

"Do you think, Mr. H——, that I have taken them?"

"Such a jest would be but natural. What are you doing here? Have I not paid you enough?"

"I never do anything without orders, and if you do not wish me to remain, I will go instantly. I thought, however, that you would be pleased if I should tell you what had become of your game."

"That is just what I wish to know! Has any one presumed to steal it?"

"Very likely."

"Who? Quick! Tell me!"

But the butler answered only with a long drawn. "Ah!"

"Can you substantiate what you are about to say?"

"I can swear to it, if it is necessary. I waited here only that I might be able to explain everything to my employer, after he should awake."

"You are a fine fellow, now tell me what evil being has entered the woods, and committed this depredation?"

"If you wish to have a full account of the matter, you should tender full payment," said the butler, who considered this play of words exceedingly apt and forcible.

"Yes, yes, I will not be ungenerous," replied Mr. Fabian taking a bank-note from his pocket.

"What! that cur!—the son of old Lonner!"

"The same."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, as certain as I am that I live."

"Good," said Mr. Fabian, and he repeated the same word several times, each time appearing better satisfied, and certainly the thoughts that occupied his mind must have afforded him great pleasure, for he not only forgot the trouble that awaited his return home, but also the question, which in truth should have been the first one—why the Butler had not stopped the thief and rescued the booty. The Butler, however, thought it expedient not to await further questions, and therefore soon found an opportunity of retreating.

Our readers may be assured that when the sportsman returned home his wife was not in the best of humor. She awaited his coming in the parlor; but when she heard his footsteps in the court-yard, she could no longer restrain her impatience, but hastened to the window and exclaimed:

"Dear Ulrique Eugenie, can you not wait until I have changed my clothes? I have travelled so far through the woods, that I can scarcely breathe, I am so weary."

"Where is the game?"

"Whew!" ejaculated her husband, "I can stand these clothes no longer." Thus saying, he hastened into the house, and proceeded to his apartment.

But this respite was of short duration. Mistress Ulrica Eugenie was familiar with the road to the chamber, and her rage reached its highest point, when she heard that the game which was intended for her dinner, had been stolen while her husband, overcome by his arduous exertions, had fallen asleep.

"O, if I only knew who did this, yes, if I only knew, I would have the rascal put in the stocks. But you, you dormouse, yes you, you call yourself a man! you! Don't you wish to borrow my petticoat! To sleep when engaged in the noble art of hunting! To complain of fatigue! Fie upon such men! But can you not discover the thief?"

"No, my dear, I assure you. I cannot, how could I know what happened while I was sleeping?"

"Thank you, good Gottlieb," said she meeting him at the door, "thank you, your uncle has been unfortunate this morning; but come with me to the dairy, and you shall have the cream of an entire pan of milk."

"The milk also, if you please, aunty, I feel myself able to devour every thing, pan and all."

"Well, satisfy yourself. By and by we will go to my bleachery and you may select a piece of linen.—Do you understand?"

"Not a word. It is all a mystery. But I do know that there is not a nephew on the entire Scandinavian peninsula, who possesses an aunt with such an affectionate disposition."

"Ah, you flatterer, it is well that you are my nephew or else Fabian might be jealous."

"Well I am not sure but that he may yet have an occasion, for, I am not aware that nephews are forbidden to love their aunts."

From that day forward Gottlieb was taken under the especial protection of his aunt, and as her favorite he was certain of a comfortable and pleasant life. When she became acquainted with his manners, virtues and accomplishments, her esteem for him was, if possible, doubly increased.

After dining upon Gottlieb's partridge which had done much to smoothe her ruffled temper, Mrs. Ulrica was thus insinuatingly addressed by her husband:

"Have you any errands for me to perform at the parsonage, dear Ulgenie? I wish to ride down there to talk over the parish matters with the parson."

"That's right, dear Fabian. Take Gottlieb along with you. He would like to see the young ladies, each of whom are worth a ton of gold."

At this proposal Mr. Fabian's brow darkened; but the gloom was soon dispelled as Gottlieb declined the pleasure of going, and the first smile which the young man had received from his uncle was when he replied: "Excuse me to-day, my dear aunt, I wish to write to my mother."

He had no desire to disappoint his young pupil of the valley.

Mr. Fabian and Magde Lonner.

"O, how thankful I am that you can come out here on the green, dear father." Thus said Magde, as she gave old Mr. Lonner his hat and cane, after Nanna had filled and lighted his pipe.

It was a beautiful scene to behold the two sisters thus employed. Ragnar was right. Without waiting for a request, they were apparently striving to outvie each other in performing little services for the old man. In short, Mr. Lonner had not a wish which was not gratified. They anticipated his every desire.

"Where are you going?" inquired Magde.

"O, after we have taken a short walk," replied Nanna, "I have proposed that we should go to the spring in the meadow, and sit down awhile. It used to be one of papa's favorite spots."

"Perhaps you had better take a book with you," said Magde, "and then you can read to him."

Nanna blushed. Her object was to afford to her father another and much greater pleasure. She hoped in this manner to introduce Gottlieb to him before the youth should visit the cottage, because she feared that Magde in that case would wonder at her familiarity with the new comer.

Many times during the day, Nanna had endeavored to say to Magde, "last evening, and the evening before, I met an elegant young man near the spring in the meadow;" but for some unknown reason, the words never passed over her lips. She imagined that if she was alone with her father, she would not fear to tell him, and she also thought that when Gottlieb would see her with the old man, he would know that she had not agreed to meet him alone.

There was no doubt, she had thought, but that good Carl would help her with her heavy work. That is, he would come to her little house on Wednesday and Sunday afternoons, to scrub her floors and bring the wood, while she was engaged in making cakes and pies for her father and Magde, who should visit her on those evenings. Of course this plan was to be followed during the summer only. During the winter, she would spend those afternoons and evenings in the large house.

What true happiness did the girl experience as she thus innocently dreamed of her future life! Her joy was increased as she fancied herself seated in her little school-room after the close of her labors for the day. That little room was to be a bright place in her memory forever for was it not he, her friend, who had told her that she would require some recreation after school hours, and was he not also to teach her the means for doing so?

Upon the sand in front of the cottage Magde's children were playing in the sun, while Christine, the servant girl, was dividing her attention between her sewing work, and the baby which was reposing in a kneading trough, upon a little bed of rushes. She would also occasionally cast her eyes towards the other children, as they dug little ditches which they filled with water brought from the house in an old kettle, and then sailed their little bark boats in these miniature canals.

Then thought she, what a great stir her appearance in the vessel would create! "Heavens," one would say, "what a beautiful wife our captain has!" Yes, the captain is a man of taste. "The captain, always the captain. O, how grand it sounded! The captain loves her so much," the sailors would also say, "that he scarcely takes his eyes from her, and how affectionately she looks at him! O, it must be a happy life, to be thus married!"

While Magde was thus engaged in her pleasant reveries, the latch was lifted and the door swung open slowly.

"Mercy! What can be Mr. H——'s business here!" she exclaimed.

"O, do not disturb yourself," said Mr. Fabian, for it was our valorous huntsman who thus disturbed Magde's dreams, "I hope everything may be arranged without trouble. I am not the man who would injure his neighbor, even if I had it in my power."

"What do you mean!" exclaimed Magde dropping her shuttle in her terror.

"Heaven forbid," replied Mr. Fabian, "that I should think that you knew anything about it. A woman so virtuous as you are, would not engage in any wrong action; but I do think that a man's property should be respected."

"Mr. H——, if you have any evil tidings speak them out at once. Perhaps Jon Jonson has arrived, and the goods that Ragnar—"

"With a deep blush Magde suddenly ceased speaking; but her visitor required nothing further. He pretended, however, not to have understood her words; but as he well knew that Jon Jonson's vessel was still at Goteborg for he expected some merchandise in it himself, it did not require much penetration for him to surmise that the mate Lonner had taken an opportunity of sending home some smuggled goods by his friend Jonson.

"I know nothing about Jon Jonson's vessel," said Mr. H—— after a moment's pause, "but, I can readily perceive that you expect some compliments from your husband."

"It is better not to do so," replied her visitor, "but at present we have neither Jon Jonson nor Ragnar to speak about. A certain person in this neighborhood has placed himself in an unpleasant position."

"Who can it be?" exclaimed Magde, terrified by Mr. Fabian's imposing aspect, "I will run and call father!"

"If the old man is not at home," replied her visitor concealing his joy by assuming a frown of vexation, "it will be better not to call him as it will only cause the venerable man much pain."

"Tell me, do tell me, what has been done?" stammered the frightened woman.

"I refer to your brother Carl!"

"Carl, the half-witted Carl."

"O, he is in no want of wit, and his weak mind shall not serve him as a protection when he stands before the justice. Theft is theft, no matter who commits it. At least so the law considers it."

"The game!" cried Magde clasping her hands in despair and terror.

"You are right, the game that he stole from me this morning while I was sleeping. I knew full well that the proud and conscientious Magde, would not deny that he had brought it home."

"But who could have—have—"

"How terrible this is! A few days ago I happened to say that I wished we had some game for our old father, and now—now—"

"Calm yourself," interrupted Mr. Fabian, extending his hand and enforcing his consolation by a love-tap upon Magde's shoulder. In her affliction Magde did not withdraw from this salute, and Mr. Fabian had an opportunity of gazing upon her lovely neck for a full moment, to prolong which he would have given the value of a hundred hares and partridges. But Magde arousing herself from her stupor, looked her guest full in the face, and there read an expression which displeased her.

With a blush she replaced the handkerchief around her neck, and suddenly enquired:

"What then, sir, is the real intention of your visit? You said you would not disturb us, and as the game is untouched we can return it immediately."

"The game is not the object of my visit."

"What is then?"

"The theft. Carl will be brought before the justice, I told you there was a witness to his crime."

"But how can that happen unless you enter a complaint?"

"May God protect him!" interrupted Magde, "you have said enough, Mr. H——. I am but the wife of a poor sailor; but if my humble prayers will be of the least avail—" and Magde, the proud Magde, who before had often dismissed Mr. Fabian with disdainful gestures, now clasped her hands, and looked into his face with an expression of tearful entreaty.

"O, do not despair, my dear Magde," said he, "such tender prayers and looks, have a wonderful influence upon me. Aside from that your present attitude is perfectly charming."

Overpowered by a sudden revulsion of feelings, Magde closed her eyes, and sank her head upon her bosom.

"I see," said she, "that you do not intend to assist us from our present trouble."

"On the contrary," replied Mr. Fabian with much animation, "I will do everything for you, if you will only conduct yourself towards me, in a manner different from that which you have done heretofore."

"If Mr. H—— demands nothing more than friendship," replied Magde, with difficulty repressing her anger, "that shall not be wanting."

"That cannot be," replied Magde, with the coolness of despair, "I love Carl as my brother, and will give anything to preserve him from disgrace, except that which does not belong to me."

"What do you mean, my little piece of stubbornness, do not your lips belong to yourself?"

"From the moment that I entered my bridal chamber, I considered myself as belonging to my husband alone, and Mr. H——, you can be assured that you are not the person who can cause me to forget my husband's rights."

"Look you," shouted a harsh voice from the door, "before Magde should kiss your wrinkled old lips, I would run into the prison of my own accord;" and first Carl's head, and then his uncouth form appeared, as he entered the room. His face was convulsed with passion, and his eyes glanced irefully upon the surprised Fabian.

"Simpleton! you trespass upon my good nature!" exclaimed Mr. Fabian, foaming with rage.

"What would you say, good Carl?" inquired Magde, encouragingly.

"I would say, for I know exactly how it will come to pass, I would humbly say to the justice, that I did take the hares and partridges from the proprietor of Almvik."

"Yes," interrupted Mr. Fabian, "you will be obliged to show your hand."

"'Now,' the judge will reply," continued Carl, without noticing the interruption, "'My lad, why did you do so?' Then I will answer, because it is not forbidden in my catechism; if the game had been an ox or an ass, I would not have taken it. Then I would say to the justice, at the same time looking at him in this way"—and Carl made such a ridiculous grimace that Magde nearly laughed outright—"that there was no danger that Mr. Fabian H—— would frighten such fierce animals as the ox and the ass, for it is his custom to charm the hares and partridges by the sweet sound of his snores, for your Honor must know that this huntsman pursues his game while comfortably snoring in the grass."

"What do you say, clown?"

"Ha! ha! ha!" exclaimed Mr. Fabian, with a forced laugh, with which he attempted to conceal his uneasiness, "you are a waggish rogue! Your last words have afforded me so much amusement that I have not the heart to injure you for such a trifle. But listen, you little simpleton; you must not suppose that the justice would allow you to say all that. No, he would have sent you away long before you could have had time to utter a word about it."

Carl made no further reply than by applying his thumb to his nasal organ; and gyrating his fingers in a manner so significant that we will not endeavor to interpret his meaning. Having executed this manoeuver, he hastily left the room, but remained at such a distance that he could keep a watchful eye through the open door upon the unwelcome guest.

Mr. Fabian, who did not wish to appear vanquished, was at a loss how to change the conversation to such a theme as would afford him a suitable opportunity to take his leave in a dignified manner. But good Magde, who had now entirely recovered her usual equanimity, soon assisted him—by means of that instinct which sometimes puts superior knowledge to the blush—out of his dilemma by saying:

"It was because he was a simpleton that I forgave him; but now as my visit is at an end, I will release you from your unwelcome guest. As for the game, Carl can keep it. It would at all events create suspicion if it was sent to Almvik."

"And you, Mr. H——, you will not be angry with us?"

"I, God forbid. When I forgive I forget everything."

Magde arose and courtesied as her visitor took his departure. She accompanied him a short distance from the house, and waited till he unfastened the horse's halter.

After mounting his animal, he drove his horse near the spot where Magde was standing, and as he passed her he bowed deeply, but his face wore an expression that caused her entire form to tremble with an undefined fear.

The Truant.

Fourteen days elapsed. Gottlieb had fully learned the road from Almvik to the cottage in the valley. It had never entered the mind of any one of the inmates of the cottage to consider him a dangerous guest. Magde, who possessed a quick eye, soon discovered that Nanna was the cause of his visits; but she also perceived that Gottlieb was no dissembler. Magde did not look further than this, for she did not suppose Nanna would ever love one who did not return her affection. Unrequited love she did not believe in, and she thought that Nanna was of her opinion in this respect.

"It is fortunate, Miss Nanna, that we made our agreement when we first met, for if we had not I do not know what would have happened. You become lovelier every day, Nanna."

Yet in spite of these words Gottlieb would blush with displeasure when their meetings at the spring were disturbed by a third person.

The youthful teacher and pupil continued their meetings at the little fountain, and Gottlieb at this spot gave Nanna her first instructions upon the guitar. To his great pleasure she learned quickly, and soon she was able to sing her beautiful songs to her own accompaniment on his favorite instrument.

Words are inadequate to describe Gottlieb's pride and elation when this was accomplished, and he was none the less rejoiced when he discovered how readily Nanna comprehended him when he read to her the writings of his favorite bards.

"I am sure of that," said Nanna, one afternoon in reply to Gottlieb, as he thus expressed himself, "for when you are married you will be obliged to visit Almvik to show your rich wife to your uncle and aunt."

"Perhaps," replied Gottlieb, with a laugh, "that journey will not be necessary, for if my aunt could only have her own way, she would certainly find me a wife in this neighborhood."

"Who could you possibly marry in this neighborhood?" inquired Nanna curiously.

"Ah! Mademoiselle Nanna," replied Gottlieb, "I easily perceive that you are not in the least danger, for you can hear that your friend Gottlieb is to be married and betray not the slightest emotion."

"Why should I be moved, Mr. Gottlieb? It will have to occur sometime," said Nanna innocently.

"And yet—"

"What yet!"

"You are a good girl."

"Yes, and I only intended to remark that it would not be difficult for you to adhere to it."

"Does that displease you, sir?" inquired Nanna in a tone of displeasure which was the more pertinent as it was foreign to her usual manner.

"Certainly not, Miss Nanna, on the contrary I am delighted that you should follow my advice so faithfully—either of the young ladies at the parsonage are suitable."

"Did you refer to one of those?" inquired Nanna, her countenance assuming a deathly paleness, "O they are so beautiful."

"Yes, perfectly angelic—especially Miss—Miss—what is her name?"

"You probably allude to Miss Charlotte."

"Right, Miss Charlotte, whose hair is so black and beautiful."

"O, no, that is Sophia!" exclaimed Nanna.

"Well then, Miss Sophia, I prefer her."

"But why is it that you changed their names?" inquired Nanna.

"Why, you heard that I did not confound her black hair with her sister's brown ringlets."

"How strange! Charlotte's hair is quite light!"

"I think you are jesting with me, sir," said Nanna laughing so heartily that the roses instantly returned to her cheeks.

"I jest with you!"

"Of course. Miss Sophia is so serious and thoughtful that no person would call her roguish."

"Were you not as quiet as an old prayer-book the first time I saw you?" replied Gottlieb.

"And even if it was so—"

"Just look into the water, my little miss, and tell me whether you look as you used to."

"Then you would say, Mr. Gottlieb, that by some magic spell you have driven away Miss Sophia's gloominess?"

"Yes, I can say Miss Sophia's also."

"Also?—that is a bold speech!"

"Are you angry?"

"Oh, Gottlieb!"

"Ah, Miss Nanna. Are you weeping?"

"Mr. Gottlieb may be mischievous and tantalizing enough to compel me to do so; but this time he has not succeeded."

"Well, as I cannot force you to weep, I must confess the truth, and that is—"

"That you have seen neither of them," interrupted Nanna.

What Nanna thought Gottlieb did not learn; but he soon was made acquainted with his aunt Ulrica's opinion concerning his absence. Gottlieb arrived at the latticed gate of the court-yard at Almvik, just in time to salute the young ladies from the parsonage as they drove forth from the yard on their return home. They appeared somewhat displeased, and returned Gottlieb's bow with a stiff and cold salute.

Mr. Fabian observed with pleasure, the cloud which shadowed the brow of his beloved Ulrica, foretelling the storm that was to burst forth; but not on himself.

"Nephew Gottlieb," said Aunt Ulrica drawing the young man aside, "you have to-day for the first time afforded me an unpleasant surprise."

"In what manner, dear aunt," replied Gottlieb.

"Is it your custom when in your father's house to remain away all day when young ladies are visiting your parents?"

"That is to be regretted, for boys who have not been carefully guided, rarely become gallant and well behaved young men; but we will say no more on that subject."

"In that I concur."

"We will therefore confine ourselves to that subject to which an innate knowledge guides us."

"That leads us back upon the same road."

"On the contrary, my young friend, if you will permit me to follow my own course I will place you on the road to heaven."

"Are you sure, my dear Aunt, that you have discovered the right road?"

"Yes, she has a remarkable resemblance to a donna; but unfortunately I do not prefer Spanish ladies."

"Well, then Charlotte possesses an affectionate disposition. You cannot but admire her fine sensitive nature, which should kindle a love equalling Werther's love of Lotta."

"That is precisely what I fear. How would I look imitating Werther?"

"I do not wish you to follow his example. Charlotte is a girl for whose sake a man might act foolishly, and still be pardoned—then you prefer Charlotte?"

"No, above all things in the world I detest preferences."

"That is to say, you will cheerfully take the one of the two sisters you most admire after you have had an opportunity of visiting them a few weeks, and judging of their good qualities for yourself."

"Nothing of the kind, dear Aunt."

"Then, what do you mean?"

"That I have a great desire to look out for myself in this matter; and that taking all things into consideration, I am much too young to think of marriage."

"God forbid that such a sentiment should ever enter my heart. I honor and love God. I am grateful to Him that He has given me a heart, and I pray Him not to send me a bride which that heart cannot love."

"Your words sound well; but I shall not have my little plot marred by them. Will you or will you not, accompany me to the parsonage, and conduct yourself as you should before the young ladies?"

"I will behave politely towards any young lady; but, aunt, if you have any other meaning concealed beneath those words then—I will say no!"

"You wish to quarrel with me, then. Do you understand what that means, my dear nephew?"

"I dare not think of such a misfortune."

"Yet that misfortune will certainly come. God knows I would do much for you; but consider upon your words while you have yet time—you need not trouble yourself to be present at the fishing excursion this evening."

"Why so, aunt, am I outlawed?"

Mrs. Ulrica Eugenia assumed an air of haughtiness.

"Then I have fallen into disgrace," continued Gottlieb.

"I will not deny," replied Mistress Ulrica, coldly, "that you are on the road to disgrace; but I hope this wholesome lesson will cause you to think better of my exertions in your behalf."