The young lady was very beautiful; the mild, calm, expression of her countenance, the sweet, trusting glances from her large dark-blue eyes, disclosed one of those soft, feminine natures for which life should be all quiet and sunshine, because they bend and break beneath its storms.
The gentleman who rode by her side, as near as the horses could approach each other, wore the uniform of an officer. His features were expressive of courage and talent, and all that freedom from care which is the happiest endowment of youth and inexperience.
The young lady was Jeanné Rysé, a daughter of the Baroness Rysensteen, in the district of Rive. The gentleman was her cousin, Captain Krusé. They were both returning from a visit to Major-General Gregers Daa, who two years before had purchased Hald, and built the handsome house upon the hill.
There was evidently a deeper feeling between Jeanné and the captain than merely cousinly regard; this was betrayed both by their very confidential conversation, by Jeanné's smile, and by the endearing glances that seemed to meet and answer each other. They loved each other; and they were laying plans for the future, as that afternoon they rode together through the wood. It was not of the present moment they were thinking--no, none but children and old people, the two at the extreme points of life--take pleasure in the present moment. Around them everything reposed in a deep and serene tranquillity; the clear, transparent air, the sun's rays gleaming through the foliage of the trees, the perfume of the flowers, the blackbird's flute-like song, all tended to increase the sense of happiness which pervaded both their hearts, that fresh young love that causes all the blossoms of the soul to expand.
'This evening,' said Jeanné, 'I will tell all to my mother; it appears to me that it would be wrong to conceal our wishes longer.'
'Oh, let us wait,' said he. 'The confession will not augment our happiness.'
'But it will indeed!' replied Jeanné. 'My mother has hitherto always been my confidante in everything; it will distress her when she finds that I am concealing our attachment from her. Do not be afraid, dearest. She is so good, she has never thought of anything but my happiness, and she will undoubtedly give her consent to our engagement. I know perfectly well that my mother will refuse me nothing,' she added with a gay smile.
Krusé made no reply; they rode on for some time in silence side by side, while the same subject engrossed the minds of both, but there was a difference in the way they thought of it. He was thinking, as it is natural for men to do, only of his own happiness; Jeanné, on the contrary, of that which she hoped to be able to bestow upon him.
'What if your mother should disapprove of our marriage?' exclaimed Krusé, at length, after they had left the wood, and were riding towards Viborg, which was to be seen at a little distance.
'But she will not disapprove,' replied Jeanné, decisively. 'I know her too well. Still, happen what may, my friend,' she said, as she stretched out to him a small, well-shaped hand, 'we love each other, and we will never cease to do so. Is not this knowledge enough to induce you to overcome every obstacle?'