ated in the best
country-houses in the neighborhood; and the well-mannered, handsome,
and agreeable youth was welcomed everywhere. The simple, patriarchal
life in these old mansions and castles--the cordiality of the people,
the wild, picturesque scenery, nay, the very legends themselves, were
entirely to Hallberg's taste. He adapted himself easily to his new
mode of life, but his heart remained tranquil. This could not last.
Before half a year had passed, the battalion to which he belonged was
ordered to another station, and he had to part with many friends. The
first letter which he wrote after this change bore the impression
of impatience at the breaking up of a happy time. Edward found this
natural enough; but he was surprised in the following letters to
detect signs of a disturbed and desultory state of mind, wholly
foreign to his friend's nature. The riddle was soon solved.
Ferdinand's heart was touched for the first time, and perhaps because
the impression had been made late, it was all the deeper. Unfavorable
circumstances opposed themselves to his hopes: the young lady was
of an ancient family, rich, and betrothed since her childhood to a
relation, who was expected shortly to arrive in order to claim her
promised hand. Notwithstanding this engagement, Ferdinand and the
young girl had become sincerely attached to each other, and had
both resolved to dare everything with the hope of being united. They
pledged their troth in secret; the darkest mystery enveloped not only
their plans, but their affections; and as secrecy was necessary to
the advancement of their projects, Ferdinand entreated his friend to
forgive him if he did not intrust his whole secret to a sheet of paper
that had at least sixty miles to travel, and which must pass through
so many hands. It was impossible from his letter to guess the name of
the person or the place in question. "You know that I love," he wrote,
"therefore you know that the object of my secret passion is worthy
of any sacrifice; for you know your friend too well to believe him
capable of any blind infatuation, and this must suffice for the
present. No one must suspect what we are to each other; no one here or
round the neighborhood must have the slightest clew to our plans. An
awful personage will soon make his appearance among us. His violent
temper, his inveterate obstinacy, (according to all that one hears of
him,) are well calculated to confirm in _her_ a well-founded aversion