of beloved ones.

In the afternoon, after the old man had retired to his comfortable bed,
now doubly comfortable to him, to rest himself awhile, and Magde was
seated by his bedside pleasantly chatting with him, while Carl was busy
making little boats for the children, Nanna and Gottlieb were seated
near the spring beneath the tree, in the meadow.

It could easily be believed that the young couple were not very
talkative, for Nanna was busily engaged in searching in the grass for a
four leaved clover, and Gottlieb was amusing himself, according to his
childish custom, by blowing shrill blasts upon a thick blade of grass.

It was sunset. The glowing reflection of the sun fell upon Nanna's pale
neck and face, illumining them with a golden blush.

"I am sorry," said Gottlieb, at length, throwing aside the blade of
grass, and assuming a serious cast of countenance, "I am sorry that our
lessons must have an end; but all is for the best, for, my child, you
know enough already."

"More than enough," replied Nanna, softly.

"Especially for a school teacher," said Gottlieb.

"Yes, especially for a school teacher," repeated Nanna.

"But you speak so abstractedly. You are not so lively as usual."

"I did not know it; but if Gottlieb says so, it must be true. When one
has been so glad as I have been to-day, and then as sorrowful, it takes
much courage to meet the change indifferently."

"But, dear Nanna, you were aware that I should be forced to go away
soon."

"I did not know that you were going so soon as to-morrow morning."

"Neither did I, myself, when I saw you yesterday; but when I determined
to go by the steamboat, you perceive that--"

"Yes, yes."

"And then again what difference will a day or two more or less make,
when we part--"

"Never again to meet," interrupted Nanna.

"You will do right in the meantime not to hope too much."

Nanna glanced inquiringly towards Gottlieb.

"Do you not think it strange, Nanna, that we who have been acquainted
but so short a season, should think so much of each other?"

"It is perfectly natural that we should. Persons in fashionable society
cannot become so well acquainted with each other as we could in one
hour. At first we met each other every evening, then every morning and
evening, and at length--"

"And at length morning, noon and night!" interrupted Gottlieb, with a
smile. "In truth, Nanna, you are right, for if our every meeting was so
divided that we should