They thought only of the pleasant trip over the swelling billows of the lake. Magde finished lading the skiff; but her heart was overflowing with grief, for she had no glad tidings with which to gladden the heart of the old man.

Nanna who during the busy activity of the morning had successfully endeavored to suppress her sorrow, was so much overcome as she was about stepping into the boat that she nearly fainted. She saw in her imagination the pale and suffering countenance of her father; who was however smiling patiently as he stood ready to greet his children, that were to leave him again in his dreary and lonely prison.

The poor child in antic.i.p.ation suffered all the pangs of a second farewell with her imprisoned parent.

"It will not do for you to accompany us," said Magde in a firm and motherly tone, "you are ill, and therefore had better return."

"I am afraid," replied Nanna trembling violently, "that I shall be obliged to do so. Give my love to him, and tell him--" and now her long suppressed tears burst forth in torrents--"tell him if I do not come, it is not because I do not love him."

"Silence, silence my poor sister, I know myself what I have to say--Go and may G.o.d be with you--here is the key--Lock the door--Carl take the oars."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE BANISHMENT--THE RE-UNION.

When Magde's boat pa.s.sed the mansion at Almvik, two persons were walking on the verge of the sh.o.r.e near the lake. The one was Mistress Ulrica, and her companion was Gottlieb, who had returned a few days before, from his trip through Norway.

As the boat shot round a rocky point of land, Gottlieb exclaimed, as he recognized its occupants, and bowed friendly to them: "Where are they all going! They look so sorrowful and dejected!"

"Sorrowful!" repeated Mrs. Ulrica, "you may thank G.o.d that it is not necessary for you to partic.i.p.ate in the sorrows of the lower cla.s.ses."

"If they are in trouble, I do not see why I should not sympathise with them."

Aunt Ulrica shook her head with a dissatisfied expression of countenance.

"You may certainly boast of your firmness of mind, and your knowledge of human nature; I have shown you the danger of a.s.sociating with such persons. I sent you away--I--"

"I beg your pardon," interrupted Gottlieb, hastily, "I was not _sent_ away. I took a journey which I had decided on myself, and returned as I departed, with a heart ever ready to sympathise with the afflicted."

"Then go, and partic.i.p.ate in the sorrows of your beggar friends. I suppose, from your liberal words, that you are well supplied with money."

"What has happened to them?"

"The old man, in connection with his son, has been detected in smuggling foreign goods, and of course his property was confiscated. The old gentleman in whose name the business was transacted, was sent to prison because he had no money to pay the penalty, and there he will remain until you go to his release."

"And he shall not wait long," replied Gottlieb. "I have accomplished greater undertakings than that in my time."

"Ah, ha," sneered Mrs. Ulrica, "you speak boldly, boy. I am astonished."

"If any one should be astonished, I am the person."

"Indeed!"

"I come to relatives who at first welcomed me cordially. My affections attached themselves to my kind friends, for it is a necessary quality for me to be grateful; but suddenly everything is changed, and I am treated like a school boy, whom you must curb, or else fear that he might commit some folly. To this description of guardianship I have not been accustomed, and as it is not my desire to submit to your control, I must beg you, Aunt Ulrica, not to attempt to govern me in this manner, for I a.s.sure you that your efforts will always be fruitless."

"Foolish boy! You forget that I could be useful to you; could smooth your path by my wealth and influence."

"I do not forget it, and I should have been very happy to have been able to retain your good will; but at the price of my liberty of thought and action, I do not desire your favor."

"Then you will return to the valley, to Miss Nanna."

"Undoubtedly. She requires my presence, and I long to see her."

"Then you still love the young girl?" inquired Mrs. Ulrica.

"I do not know whether I loved her when I departed from Almvik; but this much I do know, that her image has been with me constantly during my absence; and that I shall see her again to-day."

"To tell her of this folly?"

"O, no, that would be unjust, as I can tell her nothing more."

"Thank Heaven for that! You, yourself, see that it would be impossible to--"

"What?" inquired Gottlieb, as his aunt paused.

"To marry her."

"I do not at all consider it impossible; but as it is uncertain whether I ought to wed Nanna when the time arrives for me to marry, it is better for both of us that we should rest satisfied with friendship alone."

"Listen to me, Gottlieb. Sometimes you speak so wisely that I am not certain but that it would repay me to make a proposal to you."

"Well, I am all attention."

"If I am not much mistaken, pity is the only sentiment that you feel for that girl, Nanna. If I was to take it upon myself to pay the old man's fine; if I should further promise you to provide for Nanna's future maintenance--you know I would not break my word--will you bind yourself not to see her again?"

"No, I will never do that. She would be oppressed with sorrow throughout her whole life, if I should be capable of making such an unworthy promise."

"Obstinate youth! you force me to perform my duty to your mother my sister, and command you to visit Almvik no longer. I will not burden my conscience by abetting you in your misconduct."

"I will remain a few days longer," replied Gottlieb without evincing the slightest emotion, "to rest myself after my journey, and then I shall be ready to obey your command."

"Right," muttered Mrs. Ulrica hotly, as she hastily left the young man, "you shall repent this."

Without wasting time by thinking upon this conversation with his aunt, Gottlieb hastened on the road towards the little cottage. He had observed Nanna was not in the boat, and after proceeding to the spring, and fruitlessly searching for her, he hurried to the cottage, his heart beating with such rapidity as he stood before the door, that he was astonished at his great emotion.

"Illness could not have prevented her from going with them," thought he, "certainly not, or they would have remained with her."

Thus thinking he knocked at the door; but he was obliged to repeat the summons several times before he heard the sound of slow footsteps approaching.

"Who is there?" inquired a soft voice from within.

"'Tis I, Nanna!"

An exclamation of joyful surprise was the only reply. The bolt was quickly thrown back; the door opened, and Nanna appeared upon the threshold, pale and careworn. She was clothed in her only holiday dress, a black merino frock which fitted closely around her neck, thereby disclosing her graceful bust to its best advantage.