"If you must really go," said Ebba, looking up, after a long pause, "I hope we shall see you again?"
"Most assuredly," replied Auriol. "I owe your worthy father a deep debt of gratitude—a debt which, I fear, I shall never be able to repay."
"My father is more than repaid in saving your life," she replied. "I am sure he will be sorry to learn you are going so soon."
"I have been here a week," said Auriol. "If I remained longer, I might not be able to go at all."
There was another pause, during which a stout old fellow in the workshop quitted the anvil for a moment, and, catching a glimpse of the young couple, muttered to his helpmate—
"I say, Ned, I'm a-thinkin' our master'll soon have a son-in-law. There's pretty plain signs on it at yonder door."
"So there be, John," replied Ned, peeping round. "He's a good-lookin' young feller that. I wish ve could hear their discoorse."
"No, that ain't fair," replied John, raking some small coal upon the fire, and working away at the bellows.
"I would not for the world ask a disagreeable question," said Ebba, again raising her eyes, "but since you are about to quit us, I must confess I should like to know something of your history."
"Forgive me if I decline to comply with your desire," replied Auriol. "You would not believe me, were I to relate my history. But this I may say, that it is stranger and wilder than any you ever heard. The prisoner in his cell is not restrained by more terrible fetters than those which bind me to silence."