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 returned. Seated in the midst of his children beside his lovely wife, and with his arm encircling her waist, he listened with a countenance changing from cheerfulness to solemnity to a recital of all that had transpired during his absence.
As soon as Mr. Lonner, for he was the narrator, had concluded, Ragnar advanced and enfolded the old man in his arms.
"What viper did this? I have a strong suspicion—to cast such an old man into prison—and I was away from you, unable to protect you and these weak and deserted women."
As he thus spoke, his countenance glowed with indignation.
A slight cough at the other side of the room attracted Ragnar's attention. It was Carl.
"I understand you, Carl," said he, "you must pardon me. I forgot myself when I said the women were deserted."
And the frank and honest Ragnar, whose ruddy brown countenance bespoke his health, advanced and extended his hand to Carl, who with a face as sickly and yellow as the seared leaves without, was reclining upon the sofa, watching the family group with a restless eye.
Poor Carl, each day he gradually faded, and his belief in the warning voice he had heard in the church yard became firm and unwavering. He accepted Ragnar's proffered hand with a grateful smile.
"How hot you are!" exclaimed Ragnar, "I will hasten to the village and speak to the physician."
As Ragnar thus spoke, Carl laughed in his peculiar manner. "That will be profitable indeed!" said he.
"Certainly it will, dear Carl," said Magde, approaching the sick youth, "Ragnar is right."
"Ragnar is always right," said Carl, in an unusually sharp tone, "so long as you please him you do not care if you neglect my wishes."
"What, Carl, do you not love your brother?" said Ragnar, in a tone of reproach, at the same time pressing a kiss unobserved, as he thought, upon his wife's lips. Ragnar always felt an inclination to conceal from the observation of others the fact that he still loved his wife as he had when he first wedded her, and therefore rarely caressed her when in the presence of witnesses; but on this occasion, his affection was so great that he could not resist the pleasure of stealing a kiss.
"Is not the entire room large enough for you to kiss in without my seeing you?" said Carl, harshly, "I do not wish you to do so right before me."
"Perhaps you envy me," said Ragnar, with a laugh. He had not given Carl's expression a serious thought.
Carl lifted himself upon his elbow, and gazing full in his brother's eyes, he replied slowly and firmly, "Yes."
"Why do you, Carl?" inquired Ragnar.
"Because I do not wish any body to kiss Magde—is it not so, Magde? You well know how I behaved myself when Mr. Fabian H—— wanted to buy a kiss of you."
"What! I believe the poor boy is mad! What! Buy a kiss of Magde! Poor Carl!"
"Am I speaking false, Magde? Answer me."
"O, Carl, how strangely you tell your story!" exclaimed Magde, "you ought first to have related how it happened, and—"
Magde flushed and paled alternately, and in her excitement could scarcely express herself.
"Can there be any truth in this?" said Ragnar, and his eyes sparkled.
Magde had now recovered her presence of mind, and related, without concealing a single fact, all that had happened between herself and Mr. Fabian.
"I am now firmly convinced that this—this—no matter, that Mr. H—— was the prime cause of our father's imprisonment."
"He was," interrupted old Mr. Lonner. "I am as firmly convinced of it, as I am that the young man of whom I have spoken was the cause of my release. I wish you were acquainted with Mr. Gottlieb. He is a worthy young man."
"I will tell him so in the letter I shall write him; but what if he entertained the same desire that influenced Mr. H——."
"Fear not for me, at least," replied Magde, casting a roguish look towards Nanna.
"Ah! that is singular indeed; but after all Nanna will bear a pretty close inspection—but I cannot drive that Mr. Fabian from my mind."
"First you must tell us some of your adventures," and Magde's countenance wore such an entreating expression that her husband understood her immediately; and therefore as long as he remained in the presence of his father, and his sister and brother, he continued speaking of all the singular things he had seen and heard, which was listened to by a pleased and expectant audience.
At length the time arrived when the husband and wife were at liberty to interchange their thoughts freely; the children had been nicely tucked in their little beds, and Ragnar and Magde alone occupied their private apartment.
"Now, dear Magde, now you must give me a good kiss. God bless you for this happy moment. After tossing six months upon the ocean, it is a joy indeed to return to one's own home and wife."
"Is it true indeed, dear Ragnar, that you love me now as you did when we were married?"
"Did you find no four-leaved clover last summer, that you ask me this question?"
Without replying, Magde hastily opened a clothes press, and produced an old compass box, from which she took a handful of withered clover leaves.
"See here," said she.
"And do these not convince you?" inquired Ragnar.
In this old box, Magde preserved, so to speak, the tokens of her wedded joys. From the first year of her marriage, she, whenever her husband was absent, would seek in the meadow for four-leaved clovers, under the conviction that so long as she continued to find them, she might rely upon the continued love and fidelity of her husband. And she was invariably successful, and each year she deposited the clover leaves in the old compass box. As Ragnar uttered his last question, Magde cast herself upon his breast, and gazed tenderly into his face.
"O don't look at me too closely, to-morrow I will look better, after I am washed and dressed," said Ragnar, arranging his shirt bosom, and smoothing down his jacket collar.
"You are so good already, that if you should be better it would be dangerous; but Ragnar, you have forgotten to measure the children to see how much they have grown since your departure. You used to do that as soon as you entered the house after a return from a long voyage."
"This time," replied Ragnar, "you greeted me with such strange news that I quite forgot all my usual habits. It grieves me to observe that Carl is upon the verge of the grave. True, he was ill last winter; but he soon recovered."
"He exerted himself too much during our troubles," said Magde, "then he has taken no care of himself, and then—yes, yes, there is something very strange about Carl."
"What do you mean by strange, Magde?" inquired her husband. "Do you think that he is really insane?"
"Oh no, I did not mean that; but—"
"Speak on, speak your mind."
"Now, do not laugh at my fancy—or be vexed with poor Carl. I think that—he loves me too much, and his passion has weighed heavily upon him, although he does not, himself, understand it."
"Your words are worthy of reflection, Magde; now I remember, his conduct did appear peculiar when he said he envied me the privilege of kissing you. Poor fellow, how could I be vexed with him? He, probably, never desired to vex either you or myself."
"Never. Frequently during the summer I have placed flowers in his room, and in them he took his greatest delight. Even now he loves to hear me sing to him, or to read a chapter in the Bible, above all other things."
"Such love," said Ragnar, "is a beautiful rose, the perfume of which cheers a drooping spirit. He may continue his love; it will sustain him in his last trial. Hereafter, I will not even take your hand in his presence."
"How kind you are, dear Ragnar. Now I can be to him as I was before your return." Magde wiped the tears from her long eyelashes, and before Ragnar could question her, she continued: "You may depend upon my fidelity. I only wish to afford him a slight ray of joy while he is still on earth. Without me he stands alone."
"Act your own pleasure, my dear Magde, you are aware that I confide in you as in my own heart. Although I shall act gently towards Carl, who with his own desire, would not injure me, still I will not be so submissive with an individual like Mr. H——, who has conducted himself most wrongfully."
From these words Magde became aware that she would be obliged to relate all that had occurred between Mr. Fabian and herself, and this she did accordingly.
She feared more from Ragnar's silence than she would if he had given vent to his rage in words. Ragnar possessed a faculty of controlling his anger by a silence which was much more impressive than furious speech.
"Ah, then he entered your window, after he had first removed the old man. Well, well, worse things have been done before."
This was all he said; and as not only the following, but also the second day passed, without Mr. Fabian's name being mentioned, Magde thought that Ragnar had looked at the affair with sensible eyes. She even felt somewhat annoyed at the thought that Mr. Fabian's punishment should be so light.