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Page 53
"Am I speaking false, Magde? Answer me."
"O, Carl, how strangely you tell your story!" exclaimed Magde, "you
ought first to have related how it happened, and--"
Magde flushed and paled alternately, and in her excitement could
scarcely express herself.
"Can there be any truth in this?" said Ragnar, and his eyes sparkled.
Magde had now recovered her presence of mind, and related, without
concealing a single fact, all that had happened between herself and Mr.
Fabian.
"I am now firmly convinced that this--this--no matter, that Mr. H----
was the prime cause of our father's imprisonment."
"He was," interrupted old Mr. Lonner. "I am as firmly convinced of it,
as I am that the young man of whom I have spoken was the cause of my
release. I wish you were acquainted with Mr. Gottlieb. He is a worthy
young man."
"I will tell him so in the letter I shall write him; but what if he
entertained the same desire that influenced Mr. H----."
"Fear not for me, at least," replied Magde, casting a roguish look
towards Nanna.
"Ah! that is singular indeed; but after all Nanna will bear a pretty
close inspection--but I cannot drive that Mr. Fabian from my mind."
"First you must tell us some of your adventures," and Magde's
countenance wore such an entreating expression that her husband
understood her immediately; and therefore as long as he remained in the
presence of his father, and his sister and brother, he continued
speaking of all the singular things he had seen and heard, which was
listened to by a pleased and expectant audience.
At length the time arrived when the husband and wife were at liberty to
interchange their thoughts freely; the children had been nicely tucked
in their little beds, and Ragnar and Magde alone occupied their private
apartment.
"Now, dear Magde, now you must give me a good kiss. God bless you for
this happy moment. After tossing six months upon the ocean, it is a joy
indeed to return to one's own home and wife."
"Is it true indeed, dear Ragnar, that you love me now as you did when we
were married?"
"Did you find no four-leaved clover last summer, that you ask me this
question?"
Without replying, Magde hastily opened a clothes press, and produced an
old compass box, from which she took a handful of withered clover
leaves.
"See here," said she.
"And do these not convince you?" inquired Ragnar.
In this old box, Magde preserved, so to speak, the tokens of her wedded
joys. From the first year of her marriage, she, whenever her husband
was absent, would seek in the meadow for four-leaved clovers, under the
conviction that so long as she continued to find them, she might rely
upon the continued love and fidelity of her husband. And she was
invariably successful, and each year she deposited the clover leaves in
the old compass box. As Ragnar uttered his last question, Magde cast
herself upon his breast, and gazed tenderly into his face.
"O don't look at me too closely, to-morrow I will look better, after I
am washed and dressed," said Ragnar, arranging his shirt bosom, and
smoothing down his jacket collar.
"You are so good already, that if you should be better it would be
dangerous; but Ragnar, you have forgotten to measure the children to see
how much they have grown since your departure. You used to do that as
soon as you entered the house after a return from a long voyage."
"This time," replied Ragnar, "you greeted me with such strange news that
I quite forgot all my usual habits. It grieves me to observe that Carl
is upon the verge of the grave. True, he was ill last winter; but he
soon recovered."
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