Nanna, who for a long season had battled against the intoxicating desire which had filled her heart, gradually assented 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 grass 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 unobserved, 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.