"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.

"Carl,--the fool of the valley--purloined the hares and partridges."

"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:

"Where were your silly thoughts wandering, when you left the house
without calling Gottlieb. I must say that you conduct yourself friendly
towards _my_ relations, and I do think it is equally astonishing that
you have come home without him. I sent him to look for you a long time
ago. What! can I believe my eyes! Where is the game that I was to have
for dinner?"

"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?"

"That is the reason why you never knew anything in your life," replied
the exasperated woman. "But see there comes Gottlieb with a partridge in
his hand. He is a pattern. _He_ never allows _his_ game to be stolen,"
and Mistress Ulrica composed her features, and assumed an expression of
motherly benevolence, while she descended the stairs to receive her
nephew.

"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.

What could he not do, the dear boy? Not to speak of his wonderful
success in amusing little Jean Ulrick, Mr. Fabian's sole heir, he was
able to read aloud to his aunt from her favorite volume, and to repeat
with almost sublime patience, all those tender passages to which she in
a plaintive tone would sigh _de capo_. More than all this. He could
sing--the model nephew--and accompany his voice with the guitar not only
to the tune of "my love and I," but also to his aunt's favorite ballad,
"In the shadows of the wood; in the cavern hid away." And finally there
was not a female domestic in the house who dared to compete with
Gottlieb in the art of chopping string beans. In short, he was a nephew
whose peer could not be found in all Sweden, and who knows whether the
piece of linen he chose from the bleachery was the last he received from
his indulgent aunt.

Poor Gottlieb, while you are thus the prime favorite of your strong
minded aunt, having free access to the pantries and dairy-rooms, have
you no misgivings that the day will arrive when the doors of this house
shall be closed against you? Relentless fate who ever demands a
sacrifice. How true are the words of the wise Solomon, "All is vanity
and vexation of spirit; and there is no profit under the sun." But it is
not to be believed that Mr. Fabian's slumbers were disturbed because his
wife had deserted him. No, he even preferred the company of hunger and
thirst rather than that of his Ulgenie. Not that this state of mind
originated from the many lectures he had received from his wife. Ah,
no, there were far more powerful reasons; but it is certain that if
Mistress Ulrica had suspected that her husband's indifference arose from
any other motive than the wish to escape a deserved punishment she would
have, undoubtedly, increased the vigor of her tongue to such a pitch
that his house would have been uncomfortably warm to him.

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.

"Excellent youth!" exclaimed his aunt, "pleasure cannot wile you from
your duties. God forbid that I should attempt to do so; and you Fabian,"
she added extending her arms towards her husband, "kiss me before you
go. Your Ulgenie has no desire to deprive you of any reasonable
enjoyments."




CHAPTER IX.

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.

"There, that will do, my daughters; I thank you. I feel so young
to-day, that I am quite happy. My rheumatism has left me almost
entirely; so give me your arm, Nanna, and we will go."

"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.

Her father would also converse with them about the time when she should
commence her school, about which she had already erected many castles in
the air. A little house she had thought should be erected in the valley.
Here she should dwell alone with her cat, her little goldfinch with his
elegant green cage, and she would also have a shed for her cow. She also
wished to take a dog with her; but finally she thought she would not do
so, for he would eat too much, and aside from that, would not be of the
slightest benefit to her, for Carl would certainly assume the entire
control of him.

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?

We will not describe Nanna's blushing confusion as she told her father
of her acquaintance with Gottlieb, neither will we paint at length, the
mingled sentiments of fear and hope which filled the old man's heart as
he heard his daughter's story; but will simply remark that the meeting
between old Mr. Lonner and Gottlieb was mutually gratifying, and that as
is naturally the case under such circumstances, they each wished to
continue the acquaintance thus pleasingly commenced.

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.

In the meantime, Magde, as usual, was sitting in the parlor, weaving at
her loom with such violence that the window panes rattled in their
sashes. As she was thus engaged she hummed a little song, which Ragnar
during their courtship had frequently sung beneath her window as a
signal that he wished to see her alone. As Magde loved her husband above
all other earthly things, his favorite song had never become discordant
to her. This song she took most pleasure in singing when she was alone,
for then she could give full rein to her fancy, and look forward to the
time when her loved husband should become a captain, and command an
elegant schooner in which he could receive his wife, for she hoped that
she might be able to take one voyage at least to Goteborg, to preside at
the table in Captain Ragnar's cabin.

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.

In the meantime the worthy gentleman had gradually approached Magde,
but so softly and cautiously that he resembled a cat about pouncing upon
a trembling mouse.

"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."

"Yes, not only compliments; but also a quantity of merchandise," replied
Magde, who, after a moment's reflection had concluded that it was better
not to make a secret of it, "as Ragnar had a little overplus he
concluded to send us a few necessary articles from Goteborg. We are
poor, and cannot demand credit until he returns."

"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--"

"Right, who could have believed that he would have done so, and that is
the very point, and an unlucky one, for it proves that he must have been
seen while committing the theft."

"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?"

"Have I not the right to enforce the law which is made to protect our
property? but it is possible that I might hush the matter up if I chose;
and when I fancy that I see the poor fellow under arrest, when I behold
him in the culprit's box, in the court-room; when I--"

"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."

"Nothing more, upon my honor," said Mr. H----, joyfully, "if you, dear
Magde, will promise that when you meet me you will favor me with a look
of kindness, I assure you by my honor, that nothing more shall be heard
about this unpleasant affair; and as a proof that we shall hereafter be
friends, I demand the slight favor of a kiss."

"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.

"Do I?" replied Carl, "perhaps I shall trespass upon something else. Do
you know, sir, what I shall say when the justice questions me?"

"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?"

"And then I can call as a witness the very man whom you intend to use
against me, and finally I think that the justice will smile a little
when I tell him that Mr. Fabian H---- was willing to forget all harsh
measures for a kiss from Magde."

"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:

"I am grateful to you, Mr. H----, for having forgiven Carl because his
words amused you; but what a simpleton the boy is!"

"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.




CHAPTER X.

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.

And in truth thus it appeared, for neither Nanna nor Gottlieb
experienced the slightest degree of restraint when in each other's
society. The change that had taken place in Nanna's appearance was
marvellous; the blossoms of buoyant and happy girlhood had usurped the
place formerly occupied by lilies on her cheeks, and our young hero had
more than once laughingly said:

"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.

On her part Nanna replied to her kind teacher, by confiding to him all
of her little plans, among the first of which she mentioned the
school-room, the cat and the singing bird which he was to have, and
Gottlieb gave her his advice concerning the arrangement of the benches
in the school-room; the position which the black-board should occupy,
and what little presents she should make her pupils as rewards of merit.
He concluded by promising to send her every year a letter of advice;
possibly he might come himself, occasionally, who knew?

"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."

"Ah, but don't you remember the agreement?"

"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!"

"Of what earthly difference is it," replied Gottlieb, "whether
Charlotte's hair is brown or white, I think only of the roguish and
pretty Miss Sophia."

"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."