d a north-west, one a
south-west direction, the third lay between them. While these, one after
another, were under consideration, the conversation turned on the great
event of the night, and particularly on the suspicious writing-lad. One
of the men remarked, that it occurred to him that he had seen the youth
before, though he could not just then recollect where. Another had seen
a stranger a few days previously speaking with him privately in the
wood, and he thought the stranger addressed him twice by the title of
Cornet. Now a sudden light burst in upon the old gentleman. "Ha!"
exclaimed he, "then let us take the middle road leading to Vestervig. I
dare swear that the writing-lad is no other than the Major's third son,
who is a Cornet in the cuirassiers. I remember that Fru Kirsten once
cautioned me against him, and said that he came prowling after Froeken
Mette. And you," cried he to the bailiff, "yourself saw the handwriting
of the bailiff at Vestervig. Either he has made fools of us all, or the
letter was forged. And all the while he was so still, orderly, and
diligent, so courteous, and so humble, that I could never have imagined
he was of noble race." Then putting his horse into a trot, "He who first
gets sight of the runaways," said he, "shall have three crowns." The
troop had about six miles to ride before they could reach the ford
through the rivulet at Karup; in the meanwhile, therefore, with our
reader's leave, I will hasten forward to our fugitives, who have just
reached the opposite side. The poor Dun, exhausted under her double
burden, and with the first four or five miles' hurried flight, walked
slowly and tottering up the heath-covered bank. The Cornet--for it
really was he--from time to time cast an anxious look backwards, and at
each time gained a kiss from his dear Mette, who sat behind him, holding
him fast round the waist. "Do you yet see nothing?" she asked, in a tone
of anxiety, for she herself did not dare to look round. "Nothing yet,"
answered he; "but I fear--the sun is already a little above the
horizon--they must be on the road in pursuit of us. If the mare could
but hold out." "But where is your brother's carriage?" asked she, after
a pause.

"It ought to have met us by the rivulet at day-break; nor can I imagine
what detains it, for my brother promised to send his young Hungarian
servant with it, whose life I saved five years ago in the war with the
Turks, when I received this sabre cut in