Part 15 (1/2)
”What are you babbling about?” inquired Mistress Ulrica, sharply, ”what do you know about my nephew's affairs?”
”Nothing further than that he has had a little love affair of his own, which occupies his attention during those solitary walks you referred to a moment ago.”
”He! Gottlieb! Has he dared to fall in love!”
”Certainly.”
”Impossible!”
”But I a.s.sure you that it is true, and if you will ask him why he so frequently visits the valley, he certainly will not deny that he goes there for the purpose of meeting handsome Nanna, the daughter of old Mr.
Lonner. He reads poetry to her, and under the pretence of teaching her the guitar, he finds an opportunity of pressing her pretty little white hands.”
”If that is true. If he, while he remains under my roof, enters into such a miserable intrigue, I will--for I consider it my duty as occupying the place of his mother--I will to-morrow morning mar his plans. But how did you learn this?”
This was a question which Mr. Fabian could not truthfully answer, for if he should do so, he would have been obliged to state that he, after his disagreeable parting with Magde, had taken a roundabout path towards Almvik, which conducted him so near the valley that he discovered two persons sitting beneath the tree near the fountain, and that from that day forward he had closely watched Gottlieb's movements, so that he might be enabled to hold a weapon over the one who might perhaps be a spy upon his own actions.
It was therefore an accident which opened Mr. Fabian's eyes to Gottlieb's crime; but he had not wished to play the part of an accuser, O, no, for such love affairs were common to all young men, at least he thus a.s.sured his wife.
”Make no excuse for him, sir,” interrupted Mistress Ulrica sharply, ”this indeed is excellent, and will become still richer if not prevented in time. The reproaches of a mother on the one hand, and the curses of a father on the other; a seduced girl, perhaps something worse; a criminal investigation, and a scandal in which our house, and possibly ourselves, will figure largely; all this we must expect. As true as my name is Ulrique Eugenie, this matter shall have an end, and a speedy end, too.”
”But how will you accomplish that?” inquired Fabian.
”That I shall attend to myself. Gottlieb has said that he should like to travel over the mountains into Norway. Now then he can go to Amal, and from thence he may commence his journey. He shall have money, but must obey me.”
The following morning, after Mistress Ulrica had convinced herself by her own eyes of the truth of her husband's report, for she followed Gottlieb to the meadow that morning instead of taking her usual ride, Gottlieb was summoned to her apartment, and underwent an examination that nearly exhausted his entire stock of patience. The interview resulted in his determination to accept his aunt's proposal, that he should take a journey into Norway. He did not inform Nanna, however, of the cause of his sudden departure, for he feared that it would grieve her.
Their last interview was cheered by bright antic.i.p.ations of the day when Gottlieb should return and observe the improvement which Nanna should make, both in her performance on the guitar, and in her education; for when his aunt had made a contract of peace with him, Gottlieb had insisted that Nanna should have the guitar, to which clause the old lady consented.
The young couple parted in the hope of a joyful meeting, and Gottlieb's farewell kiss did not a.s.sist Nanna to forget him.
The next day after Gottlieb had taken his departure, Jon Jonson's sloop arrived in the bay opposite the little cottage in the valley.
CHAPTER XII.
GRIEF.
Nearly two months had elapsed since those remarkable days on which Nanna had received her first kiss, and Magde had heard from her husband by the arrival of Jon Jonson's sloop.
Great had been her joy when Ragnar's gifts arrived in safety.--She then thought that everything had come to a good conclusion. But greatly was she deceived! There was a man to whom Magde had invariably conducted herself with cool indifference, and who, after having been defeated by her in the manner which we have before described bestowed upon her a parting glance which had caused her to shudder as if she had trodden upon a serpent. And he was indeed a serpent in human guise, for soon she felt the delayed sting of the venomous reptile.
Until Ragnar had received his appointment as mate, old Mr. Lonner had invariably purchased his supplies of the merchants at Goteborg; but as Ragnar thought that foreign goods could be obtained much cheaper by procuring them himself, and sending them home without paying the duty, he soon persuaded the old man to adopt his opinion on the subject.
Until now no unpleasant consequence had resulted from Ragnar's occasionally smuggling a few articles for the use of the family; but the old adage says ”a pitcher which goes oft to the fountain is soon broken,” and in Ragnar's case this proverb was verified.
Yet, for this accident, the custom house officers were not so much to blame, for not one in that service would have thought for a moment of searching the cottage in the valley, unless positive information was received, nay more, unless that information was accompanied with threats of exposure, for dereliction of duty. Unfortunately, the custom house stamp was wanting upon the handkerchiefs, shawls, and other goods sent by Ragnar, and the family not only were deprived of them, but were menaced with fines and penalties, which to pay, was entirely out of their power. To add to their misfortune their protector, Ragnar, who would have soon put an end to their troubles, had started a few days before the catastrophe, upon a voyage to Brazil.
Magde and Nanna wept only when they were alone, or at least when they were with each other. They concealed their tears from the old man, his life should not be further embittered; it was bitter enough already. The little fortune on which they had hoped to subsist for many months was entirely swept away. Old Mr. Lonner, however, observed the secret grief of his daughters, and said to himself: