and honest principle, had preserved him unscathed amid the
scenes he had passed through. At all events, such were the thoughts
expressed by his neighbours, as they discussed his return and settlement
among them in the stube of the village Hof. Nor did the frank and open
countenance of Arnod, his obliging habits, and steady conduct, argue
their judgment incorrect. Nevertheless, there was something
occasionally, noticeable in his ways, a look and tone that betrayed
inward inquietude. Often would he refuse to join his friends, or on some
sudden plea abruptly quit their society. And he still more
unaccountably, and as it seemed systematically, avoided meeting his
pretty neighbour, Nina, whose father occupied the next tenement to his
own. At the age of seventeen, Nina was as charming a picture as you
could have seen, of youth, cheerfulness, innocence, and confidence in
all the world. You could not look into her limpid eyes, which steadily
returned your gaze, without seeing to the bottom of the pure and
transparent spring of her thoughts. Then why did Arnod shrink from
meeting her? He was young, had a little property, had health and
industry, and he had told his friends he had formed no ties in other
lands. Why, then, did he avoid the fascination of the pretty Nina, who
seemed a being made to chase from any brow the clouds of gathering care?
But he did so. Yet less and less resolutely; for he felt the charm of
her presence; who could have done otherwise? and how could he at last
resist--he didn't--the impulse of his fondness for the innocent girl who
often sought to cheer his fits of depression?

And they were to be united; were betrothed; yet still an anxious gloom
would fitfully overcast his countenance even in the sunshine of those
hours.

"What is it, dear Arnod, that makes you sad? it cannot be on my account,
I know; for you were sad before you ever noticed me; and that I think,"
and you should have seen the deepening rose upon her cheek, as she
added, "surely first made me notice you."

"Nina," he answered, "I have done, I fear, a great wrong in trying to
gain your affections. Nina, I have a fixed impression that I shall not
live; yet, knowing this, I have selfishly made my existence necessary to
your happiness."

"How strangely you talk, dear Arnod! Who in the village is stronger and
healthier than you? You feared no danger when you were a soldier; what
danger do you fear as a villager of Meduegna?"

"It haunts