“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, you are to marry a wealthy girl, and I am to keep a school, is that the agreement?”

“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!”

“Stop, Nanna!  Call me Gottlieb, not sir.  You know friends should—­”

“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.

CHAPTER VII.

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.