"O, much longer than that even," said Nanna, joining in Gottlieb's laugh.

"And as we have remained by our agreement not to fall in love with each other, we part as friends, and not in despair, and what is still better, not with reproaches, which, had the case been different, we would have been obliged to make and listen to."

"Yes, it is fortunate, very fortunate, that--that--" stammered Nanna, unable to finish the sentence.

"We need not conceal from ourselves that in making that arrangement we ran a great risk. For my part, I am not too proud to say that it has been very difficult for me to keep it."

"But Gottlieb," replied Nanna, "as you have kept it, it is better as it is."

"Certainly; but then it is not so good as I wish to have it."

"How do you wish it to be then?" inquired Nanna innocently.

"Upon my honor I can hardly say; but if I was placed in better circ.u.mstances--" Nanna dropped her eyelids over their soft tell-tale orbits; but not so quickly but that Gottlieb detected a ray of hope gleaming from their deep wells.

"Will you advise me what course to take, when I have obtained a competency?" continued Gottlieb.

"No, that would be of no use; but Mr. Gottlieb, when I hear that you have wedded the rich wife of whom you have spoken, I will rejoice at your good fortune."

"And does not the thought of that rich wife cost you even half a sigh?"

"Not if that wife will render you happy."

"Nanna, you speak as though you did not love me at all!" exclaimed Gottlieb hastily, forgetting entirely the part he had determined to play during this interview.

"And should I love you?" inquired Nanna blushing deeply. "I think I am not such a foolish girl as that."

"But I believe that you love me," replied Gottlieb. "Can you deny that your heart is mine?"

"I do not deny it; but I shall not allow it to be so," said Nanna with a glance that immediately cooled Gottlieb's sudden ardor. "My heart is my own, and should not be an object of trouble to you; and I a.s.sure you Mr.

Gottlieb that I shall not allow any weakness on my part to cause you to break the judicious contract we have made."

"Ah! Nanna, you are both wise and charitable. I shall not endeavor to wrest the secret from you; but you are so much esteemed by me, that at some future day, when I can follow my own inclinations I will return to you."

"I will forget these last words, Mr. Gottlieb, for I think them the saddest you have ever uttered."

"You are right; but I spoke as I thought. It is not my fault if I thought that you were above all others most suitable to become my wife."

As he thus spoke Nanna trembled violently and she looked upon him with a gaze which contained more bitterness than words could have expressed.

"I believe I am mad indeed. I have endeavored to speak in a better spirit, and instead of so doing--I had better go immediately--or--"

"Or what?"

"Or I will, yes, I will, hold you to my heart, and swear to you, as true as I am an honest man, that I love you, and you alone, come what may, I can withhold myself no longer." Gottlieb suited the action to the word, and enfolded the blushing girl in his warm embrace.

"O, Gottlieb!" cried Nanna, weeping and laughing, "this is madness indeed!"

"No, on the contrary it is happiness!"

"But to-morrow you will repent it!"

"Never, Nanna, I sincerely believe that all is for the best. We can work hard; we have only a few needs, and it is such happiness to love each other."

"But--"

"You must accustom yourself to omit that disagreeable word. When my mind is once made up, I permit of no _ifs_ nor _buts_. And as we do not require a great amount of money to defray our little domestic expenses, I think it would be wrong for us to waste the best part of our lives in useless delay. After one year has elapsed, the parson shall unite us as man and wife, and I shall take you from this valley, and we will look forward to all the joys and sorrows, which our Heavenly Father in his wisdom shall send us."

Nanna, who for a long season had battled against the intoxicating desire which had filled her heart, gradually a.s.sented to Gottlieb's words, and the interview terminated with a second agreement, which was directly contrary to the first one, for by it they bound themselves to love each other forever.

They agreed that this change from their former agreement should be concealed from all others. They alone should know the secret.

CHAPTER XVII.

RAGNAR.

Autumn arrived.

The valley was strewn with yellow leaves. The birds had ceased their songs. The gra.s.s had withered. Rains and storms had discolored the fountain. Yet, although Nature seemed to have been engaged in contentious strife, still joy reigned supreme within the little cottage.

Ragnar, the beloved husband, the darling son, had returned. Seated in the midst of his children beside his lovely wife, and with his arm encircling her waist, he listened with a countenance changing from cheerfulness to solemnity to a recital of all that had transpired during his absence.

As soon as Mr. Lonner, for he was the narrator, had concluded, Ragnar advanced and enfolded the old man in his arms.

"What viper did this? I have a strong suspicion--to cast such an old man into prison--and I was away from you, unable to protect you and these weak and deserted women."

As he thus spoke, his countenance glowed with indignation.

A slight cough at the other side of the room attracted Ragnar's attention. It was Carl.

"I understand you, Carl," said he, "you must pardon me. I forgot myself when I said the women were deserted."

And the frank and honest Ragnar, whose ruddy brown countenance bespoke his health, advanced and extended his hand to Carl, who with a face as sickly and yellow as the seared leaves without, was reclining upon the sofa, watching the family group with a restless eye.

Poor Carl, each day he gradually faded, and his belief in the warning voice he had heard in the church yard became firm and unwavering. He accepted Ragnar's proffered hand with a grateful smile.

"How hot you are!" exclaimed Ragnar, "I will hasten to the village and speak to the physician."

As Ragnar thus spoke, Carl laughed in his peculiar manner. "That will be profitable indeed!" said he.

"Certainly it will, dear Carl," said Magde, approaching the sick youth, "Ragnar is right."

"Ragnar is always right," said Carl, in an unusually sharp tone, "so long as you please him you do not care if you neglect my wishes."

"What, Carl, do you not love your brother?" said Ragnar, in a tone of reproach, at the same time pressing a kiss un.o.bserved, as he thought, upon his wife's lips. Ragnar always felt an inclination to conceal from the observation of others the fact that he still loved his wife as he had when he first wedded her, and therefore rarely caressed her when in the presence of witnesses; but on this occasion, his affection was so great that he could not resist the pleasure of stealing a kiss.