ed a black woman."

On Sunday morning, Lenz said: "I quite forgot to tell you, that I had
invited a guest to dinner today--I suppose you have no objection."

"No; who is it?"

"My worthy friend, Pilgrim."

"You ought to invite your uncle also, it is only proper to do so."

"I thought of it repeatedly, but it is better not; I know his ways."

The church bells in the valley began to ring out, and Lenz said: "Is
not that pleasant? My mother said a thousand times, that as we cannot
hear the bells themselves, but only the echo from the wood behind our
house, it is as if the melody came direct from heaven."

"Quite so," said Annele, "but it is time for us to set off." On the way
she began: "Lenz, I do not ask through curiosity, but I am your wife,
so you ought to tell me everything, and I promise you faithfully, by
that solemn peal we are listening to, that I will never divulge it."

"You need make no vows--never do so, for I have a great objection to
strong asseverations. What do you wish to know?"

"Well then, your uncle and you spoke in so obscure a manner on our
wedding-day: what did you settle together about your inheritance?"

"Nothing at all: we never spoke one word together on the subject."

"And yet it seemed from your manner that it was all signed and sealed."

"I only said that my uncle and I understood each other; and so we
do--we never speak about such things--he can do as he likes with his
own."

"And you helped him out of his dilemma; for he was fairly beset and
could not have escaped--such an occasion will never come again. He
ought to have settled on us, I mean on you, a handsome sum."

"I cannot bear strangers interfering in family matters. I am in no
difficulty, and even if he leaves me nothing I can earn what I require
myself."

Annele was silent; but it was not a melody like that of the bells, now
resounding in clear tones through hill and dale, that filled her heart.

They went on together in comparative silence to church, and afterwards,
before going home, they paid a visit to Annele's parents.

Not far from their own meadow. Pilgrim shouted out behind
them:--"Include a poor soul in your Paradise." Both laughed and turned
round. Pilgrim was very merry on the road, and still more so at table.
It was strange that Pilgrim, who had spoken so severely of Annele, now
seized every opportunity of praising her. He was anxious to make Lenz
forget what he had once said of her, and to make him fe