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Page 31
"Did you refer to one of those?" inquired Nanna, her countenance
assuming a deathly paleness, "O they are so beautiful."
"Yes, perfectly angelic--especially Miss--Miss--what is her name?"
"You probably allude to Miss Charlotte."
"Right, Miss Charlotte, whose hair is so black and beautiful."
"O, no, that is Sophia!" exclaimed Nanna.
"Well then, Miss Sophia, I prefer her."
"But why is it that you changed their names?" inquired Nanna.
"Why, you heard that I did not confound her black hair with her sister's
brown ringlets."
"How strange! Charlotte's hair is quite light!"
"Of what earthly difference is it," replied Gottlieb, "whether
Charlotte's hair is brown or white, I think only of the roguish and
pretty Miss Sophia."
"I think you are jesting with me, sir," said Nanna laughing so heartily
that the roses instantly returned to her cheeks.
"I jest with you!"
"Of course. Miss Sophia is so serious and thoughtful that no person
would call her roguish."
"Were you not as quiet as an old prayer-book the first time I saw you?"
replied Gottlieb.
"And even if it was so--"
"Just look into the water, my little miss, and tell me whether you look
as you used to."
"Then you would say, Mr. Gottlieb, that by some magic spell you have
driven away Miss Sophia's gloominess?"
"Yes, I can say Miss Sophia's also."
"_Also?_--that is a bold speech!"
"Are you angry?"
"Oh, Gottlieb!"
"Ah, Miss Nanna. Are you weeping?"
"Mr. Gottlieb may be mischievous and tantalizing enough to compel me to
do so; but this time he has not succeeded."
"Well, as I cannot force you to weep, I must confess the truth, and that
is--"
"That you have seen neither of them," interrupted Nanna.
"Not that, there you are mistaken, for I called at the parsonage one
evening with my aunt, and I was so much pleased with the young ladies,
that now I am here with you, while they are at Almvik, where they
arrived this morning. What do you think of that?"
* * * * *
What Nanna thought Gottlieb did not learn; but he soon was made
acquainted with his aunt Ulrica's opinion concerning his absence.
Gottlieb arrived at the latticed gate of the court-yard at Almvik, just
in time to salute the young ladies from the parsonage as they drove
forth from the yard on their return home. They appeared somewhat
displeased, and returned Gottlieb's bow with a stiff and cold salute.
Mr. Fabian observed with pleasure, the cloud which shadowed the brow of
his beloved Ulrica, foretelling the storm that was to burst forth; but
not on himself.
"Nephew Gottlieb," said Aunt Ulrica drawing the young man aside, "you
have to-day for the first time afforded me an unpleasant surprise."
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