“Neither fly.  And to convince you and quite certainly rid you of the idea of witchcraft, you can stay here, if you please, until—­ what time was it?”

“Two o’clock.”

“That is two long hours; but the Counsellor can, if he please, lay that offering upon the altar of education.”

“Oh!  I know another altar, upon which I would rather offer the two only all too short hours”—.

“Let it now be upon that of education.  You promised my cousin and me that you would read to us about popular science of nature and interesting facts in the life of animals.”

“Yes, dear madam; but I cannot fly:  my carriage stands waiting at the tavern.”

“Oh, I beg pardon! an agreeable journey, Mr. Counsellor.”

“Yes; but I don’t understand why I shall drive the ten miles.”

“Every one knows his own concerns best.”

“Oh, yes! that is true.  But I at least don’t know mine.”

Miss Hjelm made no answer to this, and there was a little pause.

“I would,” continued the counsellor, somewhat puzzled, “take the great liberty to propose that you should ride with me.”

“I have already told the Counsellor that I did not intend to go to town to-day,” answered Miss Hjelm, coldly.

“Yes,” continued Bagger, following his own ideas, “and so I thought, also, that we could as well stay here.”

At this moment Bagger was so earnest and impassioned, that Ingeborg, in hearing words so very wide of what she regarded as reasonable, began to suspect his mind of being a little disordered, and with an inquiring anxiousness looked at him.

Meeting the look from these eyes, Bagger could no longer continue the inquisition which he had carried on for the sake of involving Miss Hjelm in self-contradiction and bringing her to confession.  He himself came to confession, and exclaimed: 

“Miss Ingeborg, I ask you for Heaven’s sake have pity on me, and tell me if you expect me at two o’clock to-day at Mrs. Lund’s!”

“I expect you at Mrs. Lund’s!” exclaimed Miss Hjelm.

“Is it not you, then, who have written me that—­”

“I have never written to you!” cried Ingeborg, and almost tore away the hand which Bagger tried to hold.

“For God’s sake, don’t go, Miss—!  My dear madam, you must forgive me:  you shall know all!”

And now he began to tell his tale, not according to rules of rhetoric and logic, but on the contrary in a way which certainly showed how little even our abler lawyers are educated to extemporize.

But, however, there was in his words a certain almost wild eloquence; and, beside, Miss Hjelm had some foreknowledge, that helped her to understand and fill up what was wanting under the counsellor’s restless eloquence.  At last he came to the point; while his words were of whirlwind and letters, his tone and eye spoke, unconsciously to him, a true, honest, though fanciful language of passion; and however comical a disinterested spectator might have found it, it sounded very earnest to her who was the object and sympathetic listener.