The Home in the Valley by Emilie F. Carlén


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Page 14

"Can that be possible!" thought Nanna. Magde, who as she spoke had
passed her hand upon her forehead, now removed it, and from the
expression of her dark eyes, which beamed with her accustomed
cheerfulness, and from her proud and lofty bearing, it could be
perceived that she had regained her usual self-possession.

"I grieve you, dear Nanna," said she in a softened tone of voice, "I do
not imagine you to be more than a dove which is still fostered within
the dovecote. But I was troubled, as I am sometimes, without really
knowing the cause."

"Is there no cause, then?" inquired Nanna.

"I can say that there is or is not a cause, and therefore shall remain
silent."

"Then remain silent, dear Magde, let us speak no further on the
subject," said Nanna quickly, for she was burning with impatience to
visit the spring.

She longed to discover by experience whether it was really so dangerous
for a woman to walk out alone.

Until the day before, it had not been dangerous, for no one had
forbidden her the free enjoyment of God's beautiful earth, and neither
had her modesty ever been insulted. On any other occasion, Nanna would
have been influenced not only by curiosity, but by a far purer feeling,
namely, sympathy for Magde's sorrows,--for she dearly loved her
sister-in-law,--and would have asked an explanation of matters which she
at present was anxious to avoid.

Magde was silent.

Nanna stepped over the door sill.

But stern fate compelled her to turn back a second time, for the moment
that Magde turned to pass into the house, old Mr. Lonner advanced to the
door.

"Nanna my child," said he, "bring my chair out into the door-yard. The
evening air is so cool and pleasant that it will invigorate my old body;
but it would be better I think, if my rheumatism will permit it, to
take a little stroll in the fields, with the aid of my walking cane on
one side, and with you as a staff to support me on the other."

Nanna blushed so deeply that she felt the blood burning her cheeks, as
she advanced the opinion that the exercise might prove injurious to him.

"Poor child, you are grieved on account of your old father. I will take
your advice. Bring my arm-chair out, and we will sit here and have a
little chat together."

Hitherto, when her father had chatted to her of all that he had seen and
experienced, Nanna had considered herself amply rewarded for her days of
labor, but on this occasion, she not only went after the chair
reluctantly, but also, when she as usual seated herself with her
knitting work on her little bench at his side she sighed deeply. Her
father did not observe her dejection, perhaps he considered it an
impossibility for his precious jewel to sigh when she was with him.

"Well, Nanna," said he stroking his long beard which gave a venerable
appearance to his benevolent features, "are you thinking of the fine
shawl that Ragnar is to send you by his friend Jon Jonson?"

"Not at all, dear father," replied Nanna.

"True," continued the old man, "your disposition in that respect does
not resemble Magde's. She is pleased, as every young woman should be,
when she has an opportunity of decorating her person with elegant
clothing."

"I think, that hereafter," said Nanna, slightly confused, "I shall also
cultivate a taste for such things; but thus far I have had but little
opportunity."

"I hope so," replied her father, "I have frequently been much troubled
in mind, when I have observed your indifference to dress, so unnatural
to one of your age; but which is only a result of the romantic notions
that you have always indulged in."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 4th Apr 2025, 4:08