will forget these last words, Mr. Gottlieb, for I think them the
saddest you have ever uttered."

"You are right; but I spoke as I thought. It is not my fault if I
thought that you were above all others most suitable to become my wife."

As he thus spoke Nanna trembled violently and she looked upon him with
a gaze which contained more bitterness than words could have expressed.

"I believe I am mad indeed. I have endeavored to speak in a better
spirit, and instead of so doing--I had better go immediately--or--"

"Or what?"

"Or I will, yes, I will, hold you to my heart, and swear to you, as true
as I am an honest man, that I love you, and you alone, come what may, I
can withhold myself no longer." Gottlieb suited the action to the word,
and enfolded the blushing girl in his warm embrace.

"O, Gottlieb!" cried Nanna, weeping and laughing, "this is madness
indeed!"

"No, on the contrary it is happiness!"

"But to-morrow you will repent it!"

"Never, Nanna, I sincerely believe that all is for the best. We can work
hard; we have only a few needs, and it is such happiness to love each
other."

"But--"

"You must accustom yourself to omit that disagreeable word. When my mind
is once made up, I permit of no _ifs_ nor _buts_. And as we do not
require a great amount of money to defray our little domestic expenses,
I think it would be wrong for us to waste the best part of our lives in
useless delay. After one year has elapsed, the parson shall unite us as
man and wife, and I shall take you from this valley, and we will look
forward to all the joys and sorrows, which our Heavenly Father in his
wisdom shall send us."

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 re