"That is folly, Gabriel, You ought not to let your judgment be influenced because a bird accidentally occasioned you sorrowful thoughts."
"It was evident, Mrs. Werner," replied Gabriel, sorrowfully. "Just as the lark flew up and I was thinking of Dorothy, the words which I heard as a child and which I have not heard since, occurred to me. It is no superstition, and I can repeat the sentence to you:
'Lark, dear lark, high o'er the smoke,
What new thing have you to tell me?'
This thought came to me, and then I heard, as distinctly as if some one was whispering the answer in my ear:
'Two lovers sat near a hazel-bush,
The third was crying and moaning;
The two pass the threshold of Hymen's house,
The third sits alone and mourns a spouse.'"
Gabriel took out his pocket-handkerchief.
"That was a certain foreboding that Dorothy had been false to me."
"Gabriel, I fear she was always fickle-minded," exclaimed Ilse.
"She has a heart like a bird," said Gabriel, apologetically. "She is not a serious person, and it is her nature to be friendly with all. That I knew; but her gaiety, light-heartedness, and pleasant jesting made her dear to me. It was a misfortune for me and her that I was obliged to leave her just when she began to favor me and discourage others who were showing her attention. For I know that the book-keeper had long had his eyes upon her, and had prospects which would enable him to marry her, and that was a better provision than I could give her."
"Something must be done about this," said Ilse. "Do you want to go back to the city to ascertain how matters stand? My husband will immediately give you permission. Perhaps it is not so bad after all."