Chapter 4 4

The Attic-Rooms.

As we have before stated, Nanna had supreme control over one of the attic-rooms of the cottage, and for a long time it had been a sanctuary in which she stored her precious things.

Old Mr. Lonner loved Nanna as the apple of his eye. She was not only the youngest child, and consequently the favorite, but she also possessed strong perceptive qualities, and a heart susceptible of the tenderest emotions. She was, so to speak, a living emblem of those harmonious dreams that her father in his youth had hoped to see realized.

The pale and delicate countenance of Nanna, who he thought was destined in all probability to droop and die like a water lily, which she so much resembled, carried the old man's mind back to the time when his father had promised to wed his mother, and he sighed as he thought how different Nanna's station in life would have been had that promise been fulfilled. Instead of neglect and insult, homage from all would have been her portion.

Yet Nanna was the pride and joy of her father's heart, for Ragnar, who at an early age was obliged to labor for his own support, had preferred to become a sailor, rather than to acquire a refined education, and Carl could scarcely comprehend more than that which was necessary for the performance of family worship. Nanna, on the contrary, would listen to her father with the utmost pleasure and interest as he related and explained matters and things which were entirely novel to one placed in her position of life.

And then, with what eagerness would Nanna read those few books with which her father's little library was supplied! She fully comprehended all she read, and she could not resist from becoming gently interested in the characters described in her books. She sympathised with the unhappy and oppressed, and although she rejoiced with those happy heroes and heroines who had passed safely through the ordeals of their loves, yet when she read of the fortunate conclusion of all their troubles, she would sigh deeply.

But after sighing for those who had lived, she sighed also for the living.

She looked forward, with terror, to the day when she should lose her father, whom she worshipped almost as a supreme being.

Her innocent heart shrunk within her as she thought of the time when a man,-for these thoughts had already entered her little head-should look into her eyes in search of a wife. Who shall that man be? she thought. Is it possible that he can be any other than a peasant or a fisherman? Perhaps he may be even worse; a common day-laborer of the parish.

O, that would be impossible!

Such a rude uncouth husband would prove her death. How could she entertain the same thoughts, after her marriage with such a boor, as she had before? He could never sympathise with her. No, she would be obliged to remain unmarried for ever. Perhaps not even a laborer would wed her! On St. John's eve, when she had ventured to attend the ball, did any body request her to dance? No, not one, no, they only gazed at Mademoiselle Nanna, with a stupid and imbecile stare-she did not belong to their class.

* * *

The next evening after Nanna had encountered the young stranger near the spring, she was seated alone in her bed-chamber. During the entire day she had endeavored to assist her sister-in law, in the various domestic duties, with her usual activity; which however it must be confessed, was mingled with much pensive abstraction. But after the tea service was removed, she had retired to her chamber, that she might in solitude commune with her own thoughts.

The silence of her apartment was soothing to Nanna's mind.

Besides a small sofa, which was her sleeping place, her little dominions contained a book shelf; three or four flower vases; a bureau, and a small work table. The two latter articles of furniture were specimens of Carl's workmanship.

Carl, when he chose to display his ability, was a skillful carpenter, and formerly Nanna was his special favorite. Of late, however, it could readily be perceived that Magde possessed his affections. She, had she so chosen, could have abused him as if he had been a dog, and like a cur he would have crept back to kiss the hand which had maltreated him. Magde, however, was soft-hearted, and did not abuse her power over the singular boy; but she compelled him to labor with much more assiduity than he had formerly. When at home, Carl generally performed the duties of a nursery maid. The children remained with him willingly, for he tenderly loved them; in fact every child in the neighborhood loved the "Wiseacre," for he would play with them, and upon all occasions take them under his special protection. When he saw his little nephews and nieces, subjected to the discipline of their mother, he would fly into a frenzy of passion, and then he was called, "Crazy Carl." He was an inveterate enemy to corporeal punishment, and he could invent no better method of explaining his doctrine, than by administering to those, who differed with him, a practical illustration of the cruelty of personal castigation. Therefore he would fly around among the parents and the straggling children, preventing their punishment of his favorites by means of his own stalwart arm, and then after the tumult had subsided he would repent and tearfully sue for pardon.

Crazy Carl was laughed at for his exertions in behalf of the children, yet to spare his feelings the necessary punishment of the children was deferred till he was out of sight. None of the neighboring peasant women would leave their homes, to go to the market, to a wedding, or to a funeral, without requesting Carl to remain with the children, and upon his compliance they would go forth untroubled, for they were well aware of the unbounded influence "Wiseacre" possessed over the young people.

Carl's bed-room, which adjoined Nanna's apartment, contained a bedstead, a well whittled table, and a chair mutilated in a like manner. In this chair Carl would rock backward and forward, for hours, and with half closed eyes would look as if by stealth, at a striped woolen waistcoat, which was suspended against the wall, or some other little gift from Magde.

At the same time that Nanna was seated in her room looking towards the large tree near the spring, Carl was rocking in his chair, gazing with his peculiar expression at a brown earthen vase, which was standing upon the table before him. The vase contained two freshly plucked lilacs, one blue and the other white, which emitted a fragrant odor. After Carl had sufficiently regarded these objects, he slowly jerked his chair towards the table, and at each pause his mouth widened into a simple simper. At length he arrived so near the table that by bending forward he could have easily touched the flowers with his nostrils. To accomplish this movement, which was his evident intention, he proceeded with as much gravity and carefulness as he had evinced in approaching the table. He bowed down his head inch by inch, until he could no longer withstand the desire of his senses. With one plunge he thrust his nostrils amidst the fresh leaves of the fragrant flowers.

Suddenly, however, he raised his head, a thought struck his mind-his face lengthened and his brow became cloudy.

And yet a few moments ago he appeared supremely happy.

* * *

Nanna's pretty face was pressed against the window pane. Her little world had never before appeared so fresh and beautiful. So great was her abstraction that she did not hear the door open, as Carl with his peculiar lofty strides entered the room.

"Thank you, Nanna," said Carl. Nanna did not hear him. His voice was lost in her recollection of the words of the strange youth, she had met the day before.

"Thank you, Nanna," repeated Carl.

Nanna started. "What for?" said she.

"Do you not know?" replied Carl, "why for the flowers!"

"Flowers?"

"O," said Carl smiling imbecilely and gazing vacantly around the room.

"If you found lilacs in your room, I did not place them there," said Nanna.

"Ah! then perhaps little Christine sent them to me."

"No, dear Carl," replied Nanna, "the flowers were sent by one who is better than even myself or Christine."

"Who can it be?"

"Magde, of course."

"Ah!" Carl slowly stepped towards the door. "Magde, yes, I ought to have known that!"

"Ask her, and then you will know certainly," said Nanna.

"O, no, but they are beautiful flowers. I hope I will not break them, they smell so sweetly!"

Thus saying Carl strode across the floor to his own chamber where he again seated himself upon his chair and resumed his former occupation; but he did not profane them with his nostrils, for now he regarded them in a holier light. They were Magde's gift.

While he was thus happily engaged, a messenger arrived at the cottage to disturb him. A peasant's wife, who wished to attend a funeral desired his services, and the obliging Carl, although he protested that he had a great deal to engage his attention at home, willingly promised to go to the woman's cottage and take care of her children until her return. In order that his arrival at the cottage might be joyfully welcomed, he returned to his room, and commenced the manufacture of sundry whistles and as he whittled and sung verses of his own composition-for Carl was a poet-he occasionally cast loving glances towards the brown earthen vase.

But how was Nanna employed? Was she reading some of her favorite books, an amusement to which she often devoted her leisure hours? or perhaps she was proceeding over the path which conducted to the spring in the meadow. Neither. She at present appeared perfectly satisfied with her unaccustomed listlessness, from which however she was soon aroused.

From between the trees that bordered the side of the hill, she saw a green coat emerge, which when it reached the plain made its way towards the little fountain beneath the tree.

The wearer of the coat, who was the young man who had carried the knapsack and had called Nanna his little naiad, a term which he supposed she did not understand, cast himself upon the grass near the trunk of the tree. Perhaps he was expecting some one.

For a few moments Nanna stood undecidedly upon the threshold of the door. Her inclinations drew her towards the spring; but her modesty cautioned her to remain.

Why had she so long postponed her usual walk on this particular occasion? She had not expected any one. Certainly not!

At length, however, she seized her bonnet and hastened from the room.

* * *