Layest thou hands on the servant of the Lord?' exclaimed the pastor, in a phrensy of rage, orgetting himself, and seizing Bruno with a sinewy grasp. But Bruno had the strength and elasticity of the lion; and, after a strong struggle, the pastor lay stretched on the floor. "Seize him! hold him!' exclaimed Ma chère mère, beside herself. lieve, love me, I will not appear worse than I am. Hear me, then, for this is the last time; this last theft (and I had sworn that it should be the last) was not entirely a theft. The day after tomorrow the money would have been restored; and of which, if you will convince yourself, speak with Mr. F. in W. The money was not for myself, but for the unfortunate-but what does it signify? My mother refused me a loan, and now I took only that which at one timewould be mine. It was discovered, and sheshe must bear the consequences of what has happened, and may yet happen. Farewell, forever. BRUNO.' "Ma chère mère tore the paper out of my hand, and read the contents. He has stolen more than once, then,' said she, passionately; 'I have brought a thief into the world!' added she, rending the letter into a thousand pieces. "The book-keeper, and one of my brothers, who attempted to hold him, soon laid by the pastor; and then Bruno, starting back a few "From this moment she spoke not one word paces, seized a staff which stood in a corner of for three years. She shut herself in her own the room, and swinging it over his head, threat-room, which was darkened; would endure neiened, with the expression of mad phrensy, to strike it upon the face of any one who should dare to approach him. "No one dared to do so, except his mother. 'Remain where you are,' said she to the others; and then, with firm steps and quiet mien, she approached him, laid her hand upon his head, bowed him down before her, and asked, in a voice which made the blood freeze in my veins, whether he would submit himself to her will, or receive her curse. ther light nor the sight of inan; ate and drank but little; slept scarcely at all; spake with none; and no one, with the exception of Elsa, ventured to speak with her. When any of us, against her commands, were bold enough to approach her, she either fell into violent rage and showed the intruder out, or sat immovable, with her hands before her face, obstinately silent, and deaf to all our entreaties. Lagman Hök, in association with Pastor Rhen, managed her affairs, and in the hands of "Mother and son looked at each other with these honourable men they were safe; while a eyes of flame and defiance. They stood so long. skilful overseer, acquainted with the place, farmAgain she repeated the question; and then fol-ed the estate under their inspection. But as Ma owed terrible words on both sides. Again all was still; the curse-speaking lips became stiff, the haughty glance dimmed, and mother and son sank, fainting, together. "Both were carried to their separate chamDers-" Lars Anders paused here; and I, shuddering, aid my head upon his shoulder, exclaiming, "Oh, horrible! horrible!" "They returned to consciousness," continued he, after a silence of some moments, "but did not see each other that evening. I sought to speak with him; but he affected to be sleeping, and I returned to my chamber. "In the night, when all was dark and still, we heard a wild, prolonged, and thrilling cry from his room. I sprang up, and hastened there. Bruno's mother was standing there alone, with a wild and agitated look; he was gone. The open window seemed to indicate that he had made his escape that way, although a descent from a height like that appeared almost incredible; but yet it was so. Bruno fled that ight from his mother's roof, and never returned. We never heard tidings of him, and all inquiries were vain. He seemed as completely to be gone as if cut out from the number of the living. Seventeen years have passed since this unhappy time, and we have never discovered the least trace of him. We therefore believe his death probable. "In the flight, Bruno took not the least thing with him, excepting the clothes he wore, and some papers. On his table lay a sheet of paper addressed to me, and written in evident haste. chère mère's hypochondriacal condition had already continued so long, and threatened a still longer continuance, I determined, after counselling with those friends, to call her own family together, and, in conjunction with them, to consider and determine what was best to be done both for the present and the future. "This family meeting took place at Ramm, in October, 18-, three years after Bruno's flight. One day, as we sat together in the great hall, busily occupied by our council, the door was suddenly opened, and Ma chère mère entered; lofty, quiet, collected, and more respect-inspiring than ever. She addressed the assembly in her customary strong, solemn manner; saying that she knew the object of their meeting; justified it on account of her long sickness; but declared the congress to be now dissolved, because she felt herself again in perfect health, and again in a condition to regulate, as before, her family and her property. She returned thanks to all her friends, with an earnestness that affected all, for the patience which they had shown towards her, whom the Lord had so severely afflicted. Next she bade her relations all kindly welcome, prayed them to remain yet longer, and to be as cheerful and happy at Ramm as formerly. "It would be difficult to describe the effect which this scene produced upon the assembly; admiration, esteem, and sympathy were the feelings of most; for myself, I felt sincere joy, for I really loved her. "To gratify her wishes, the family remained there a few days; but all gayety had vanished "I have met severity with scorn,' it said, from Ramm. Ma chère mère, though strong and 'might with might; and this has made me ap- domineering as ever, went about like the shadpear more criminal than I truly am. But before ow of what she had formerly been. Her comyou, brother, who have never been severe or un- plexion was changed; her hair become perfectly reasonable towards me-before you, who, as I be-gray; her formerly handsome, animated coun tenance bore traces of the most painful sufferings; and she, who formerly was so cheerful, had become gloomy and thoughtful. She now wore always a dark-gray dress, and rejected all ornaments; at times, too, she had attacks of deep melancholy, and would sit silent for hours, and cover her face with her hands. Th first use she made of her re-established belt-government was to remove from Ramm to Carlstors. Shortly thereafter she purchased this estate; for, seeming to regard Bruno as dead, she never named him, and endured nothing which reminded her of him. The old servants were dismissed with pensions; for she wished to establish an entirely new household, and retained only Elsa of all her former domestics. "Time passed on, and by degrees the dark melancholy seemed to leave her, and now for the last several years she appears to have resumed her former life-enjoying existence; the only thing necessary is, that every one should carefully avoid touching the wounded part, which never can be perfectly healed in this world. plied house. I cannot see, for my part, how he is to be amused; and I wish, most sincerely, that every friend of my husband's should find his house agreeable. But all can go on as it may; only, how will it go on with my romance? No intrigues, no entanglements, consequently no disentanglements; I get only new persons. How am I to unravel all these? how keep the threads together without a perfect jumble? And now, again, two new characters-the brilliant Stellan S., and the mysterious Romilly; it makes me quite out of breath; how will it fare with my romance? But, let it turn out as it may, I remain your FRANZISKA. A STRANGE LADY TO THE READER. I hope, worthy reader, that this will reach thee in good health and good-humour. I hope, such being the case, that thou wilt excuse it if, now and then, the letter of a gentleman should slip in, among those of a young married lady, and that thou wilt not take it altogether amiss if an "Bruno's flight made a great noise in the coun- unmarried lady occasionally should take up her v, but Ma chère mère was so beloved and hon-pen, in order to converse with thee. All this is oured by her domestics that the disgraceful occasion of his flight was never known publicly. Many uncertain reports were spread, but people all adopted the opinion that incompatibility of temper in mother and son had been the one sole cause of this violent separation. "Another mode of treatment, from childhood upward, would probably have made Bruno's fate different from what it was! but now-unfortunate Bruno! I must always lament and pity him." So concluded Lars Anders, with a tear and a deep sigh, This history saddened indeed my spirit, but I must confess that it has given Ma chère mère a much higher interest in my eyes. I perceive now, in the depths of her being, the wounded and bleeding heart of a mother; and her misfortune was greater than her fault. I feel a closer affinity to her-I love her better. 22d. merely that thou mayest have less trouble; and, BRUNO MANSFIELD TO ANTONIO DE R. Ramm, Midsummer evening, 18Here I am again; here, where I was born, where I played and loved, as a boy and as a youth! Between then and now lies a sea, a sea, full of—but, nevertheless, I am once more here, The oaks are as green as ever; the mountain peak is as high; the clouds pass over as they did hitherto. Feelings, thoughts, actions, are also clouds; they come, they go-space swallows them up--swallows?-no, something of them remains behind-I feel that too well! I have ascended to the summit of the mountI wish to send off this packet of letters, yet I ain, and stood where I stood as a boy; where I must say, before it goes, that I am here now as stood with panting breast, and saw the sea-waves a mock widow. Lars Anders has taken a jour- lashed into foam by the winds, and the blue ney with Peter to G, to arrange some mon- mountains raise themselves from the opposite ey matters. Lars Anders, during his twenty shore; and whence my forebodings, my aspiyears' practice, has saved a pretty little proper-rings, and my longings, fled forth far beyond. ty; which, by Peter's advice, he has now gone to invest in the great trading-house of GDuring this time, therefore, I rule and reign in solitary state over Rosenvik, the cabriolet, and the horse. Lars Anders desired me frequently to use these latter in conveying me to Carlsfors; and Peter asked me, in such a friendly manner, to look after his little Ebba, that I shall fulfil their wishes; although I would just now much rather remain at home, in my own loved home, and see my peas in blossom. I stood by the selfsame fir-tree: it had outgrown me, although its roots strike into the rock; a heap of stones lay beneath-I was acquainted with all these. The boy had built a pyramid upon the mountain top, and had planted there his banner of freedom. The pyramid was thrown down, but the man stood there now, and thought of the work of the boy, and smiled-a bitter smile. I have wandered about in the wood, in the fields, and on the seashore; I have sought out many particular places, and woke many remembrances. The stormy appears to me calm, the guilty innocent. You may imagine how this is. I have lived my spring-time over again; I have enjoyed, I have wept; it was delight! At the end of next week we are to receive a visiter at Rosenvik, the prospect of which makes me a little anxious. It is the young Baron Stellan S., who was an intimate friend of Lars Anders's youth. Lars Anders is this young man's Now it is evening, and all around me is still; guardian, and is attached to him, not only on I also have a moment's rest. Like the calm his father's account, but on his own also. This leaf, which, lately blown by the wind, struck young Stellan S. is gentleman of the bed cham-lightly on the casement, or the falcon which lateber; handsome, rich, and full of talent. All this is not so very terrible, certainly; still, from much that I have heard of his elegance, his toilet, his style, I am not quite easy about entertaining so fine a gentleman in my smail, but modestly-sup ly flew circling over the meadow-all are at rest. The mist now lies white and transparent over the green earth, and over reposing human beings. I hear the monotonous song of the moor-larks than which I know nothing sweeter. As a child I slept every summer evening to this song, with my face turned towards heaven, which was then rosy as now, and watched how the clouds became more golden and brighter the deeper the sun sunk-as it is with the action of a noble life, the nearer it draws to a close. Oh! cursed! Why was Cain's brow stamped by Heaven with eternal unrest! He was cursed by his mother! I know how Cain felt. I also was cursed by my mother, and am without rest in the world. And now, I desire, I will, that, upon that brow, whereon she laid so heavy a curse, she will again lay her hand, remove the curse, and place a blessing in its stead! Oh, then will its burning fire be cooled! Might I only bend my head to that breast which first gave me nourishment; might I see forgiveness in that stern glance; might I yet once more press those lips in love which once cursed me! Oh, I thirst, I burn, I Do you know a high, holy, sweet, fearful name And then, as my eyes closed themselves, and living images began to shape themselves into dreams, then drew near-then every, every evening, one form stood by my bedside, and kind hands carefully drew about me the covering, which I had negligently thrown off; a warm, caressing breath then passed over my cheeks; I knew well who was near me, it was-my moth-languish after this happiness! er! Oh, how every fibre of my soul thrills and palpitates at this adored, yet terrible name-my-a name which breaks forth in the struggle bemother! She was a handsome and noble lady, and I was proud to name n.yself her son. Sometimes I have suddenly thrown off the covering which she had so carefully laid over me, and with one spring fallen on her breast, embraced and kissed her, as I never kissed any beloved one-and she clasped me in her arms-that, that was love! Sometimes, too, I lay still, pretending to sleep, and then I have seen her fall on her knees by my couch, and pray-pray for me! How have those prayers been answered! I have had this chamber repaired and furnished. I did not wish that it should too closely resemble what it was. I feared lest the apparition of a child, in the white dress of innocence, should present itself to me. The sleeping-room of my mother, however, I have left unchanged. I have not been into it; I cannot, and it is kept locked. After this, will you acknowledge me again? Will you not lament over me as weak and pusillanimous? Hear me! I am rejoiced to feel myself again human; I am glad that no deathin-life quiet has petrified my heart. Still, as long as I live, no sentiment shall weaken or depress me, even though it came from the abyssno joy, and no pain! tween life and death-a name which God himself, loving and suffering as a man, pronounced? This name I will address in my soul to her who has cast me off. Mother! O, mother! mother, my mother! wilt thou acknowledge thy guilty son? wilt thou forgive him? I scarcely dare to hope it! Yet she should do it-she was guiltless. Severity against severity-bitterness against bitterness-it could not succeed! But would she only be affectionate-would she only forgive! I pour out prayers at her feet! It You know my passion for music. I can satisfy it here. I have a fine-toned organ placed in one of the rooms. Every evening, at the approach of twilight, I sit and play there till deep in the night; the deeper the stillness, the dimmer the twilight, the higher peals forth the organ. quiets me; it exalts and refreshes my soul. In its flood of sound I drown the recollections which become living in the bosom of night. Music is a glorious thing! it is an intoxication, an enchantment; a world in which to live, to combat, to repose; a sea of painful delight, incomprehensible and boundless as eternity. In such moments, a vision sometimes presents itself; it appears to me as if there arose out of this tempestuous world, above this sea of sound, I know only too well that I never can be hap-a-what must I call it? a hope, a heavenly spirpy-peace is not for me; I can never forget; nevertheless, I can bear. But I will bear alone what I alone have merited. Many a tone can life awaken in my breast, but never that of complaint. I defy both the world and suffering! Beyond this, too, man can always cease to be, when he finds that miserable jugglery called "life" too heavy for him! Sometimes I think, "Perhaps it will mend; perhaps the yet bright day may efface the shadows of the past; perhaps the storm may be hushed, and these lamenting, mourning voices die away; time, rural occupation, custom, and perhaps domestic happiness-" You smile, Antonio. Alas! I smile also at such childish dreams. It may be; but, at all events, ike a watcher, I look out for something-pernaps, after all, only for a dream. I Did you ever hear of a man who sought after his shadow? He had lost it, and it never prospered with him afterward in this world. I am that man. I seek my lost shadow. I seek after esteem; after consideration in that place from which, after having violated the law, I fled. would win the civic wreath there. I would atone by beneficence for early misdeeds. Can it be? In the eye of the world, yes! but, with the judge in one's own breast? One thing, however, I will obtain; for, without the obtaining of that, everything else is nothing. Should this be refused to me, I will once more leave the land of my childhood, go once more into the wide world, and be it, a kind, reconciling genius, which, extracting from this stream of sound all that is most beautiful and most ethereal, weaves therefrom its own pure essence. The deeper the fugue descends, the brighter becomes this image, like stars in the dark night. Then sinks the storm, and my soul becomes tranquil; all dissonance, all pain is gone, and the heavenly image floats radiantly over the quiet lake; then it dims and vanishes. I cannot keep it; it arises with the ascending of the sound, and fades with its decline; neither can I call up at will this heavenly phantasma, although I have ever an indescribable longing to behold it. A reality so beautiful as this vision, life has never presented me with. I seldom go to rest before the sunbeams dance in the Helga Sea, and then my spirit is wearied with the warfare and enchantment of the night, and I can rest several hours. Would that the song of my heart, the miseries of my soul, could reach the ear of my mother! But, before she hears my voice, messengers will approach, who, in friendly melodies, shall speak to her of the stranger; she shall hear him praised and celebrated, and then she will all the less shrink back from acknowledging him to be her son. But should she not do so-then, Antonio, you will soon again see, at the Rouge et Noir, YOUR FRIEND. CHAPTER V. FRANZISKA WERNER TO MARIA W. Rosenvik, 25th June, evening. "HA! a stormy day, a truly unfortunate day! of which, however, the beginning was good. Yesterday I was invited to dinner, and to a Midsummer dance, at Carlsfors; but my headache | prevented my going there. I let my servants go to the dance, excepting Sissa, who could be induced on no condition to leave me, and I myself passed the lovely Midsummer-day on the sofa. That was not very agreeable, yet it did me good to think on the many who were joyful on this day. To-day I am quite well, and overflowing with spirit. As I felt, therefore, an inclination for a long walk, I took my work-basket, and set off for Carlsfors. The weather was rather dull, but still and pleasant; the country was full of its summer glory; the scythe had not yet gone over the flowery grass; butterflies flitted past with glittering wings; the birds sang, and I sang too; sang, as I walked over the beautiful earth, and felt myself happy to be one of those little beings which, inspired by a light and thankful breast, lift up their voices in praise of the Creator. To take such a walk as this is one of the greatest pleasures 1 know. I was as light and careless as a bird; I forgot all the weariness of the world; for air, flowers, green trees, blue waters-the whole life of nature, had become my life! When I arrived at Carlsfors, I found Ma chère mère busy at her lathe. She seemed delighted to see me, embraced me cordially, scolded me for my "stupid headache," and very soon we were in the midst of a lively and jocose conversation; during which time she went on with her work, and I admired her dexterity. It gives me real delight to feel that Ma chère mère and I become still more intimate. There is something between us that accords. I like her, and always feel cheerful and unconstrained with her; she is a prudent, true-hearted woman, even if she be too stern. She is one of those rare characters who always know what they are aiming at, and such have a beneficial influence on me. My quicksilver nature is calmed down and regulated by theirs. Two or three times during our conversation, she spoke to me with the pronoun thou,* which, in her mouth, has a something particularly graceful and sincere. Generally she uses you to all ladies, and Jane Maria she calls "daughterin-law;" the little word thou, addressed to me, gave me great pleasure, as did also the present of a handsome turned box, which she had completed under my eyes. Would it be possible for two people to be talking together in this neighbourhood, without mentioning the new resident at Ramm? I believe not. Ma chère mère also spoke of him to-day. This extraordinary man, it seems, has consecrated his residence in this country by a large donation for the erection of a school, which has long been wanted here. The old, estimable Mr. Dahl, who, notwithstanding his great age, is so active, and the Pastor D., in W., have undertaken the management of this business. Ma chère mère spoke of it; and it seemed to me that she also intended to take her part in this new erection, not only by providing the oak-timber necessary for the building, but by her good counsel also. A few words which she said on this A term used among equals only, as a demonstration of familiarity occasion, respecting education and general enlightenment, pleased me, on account of the clear views which they contained. Thus were we two, as one may say, in the sunshine together, but towards noon clouds began to gather. In her behaviour to me, Jane Maria was, as usual, most friendly and agreeable; but towards Ebba she assumed a chiding, admonitory, governess tone, which became her as little as it did good to Ebba. Poor Ebba! whatever might be amiss with her, she was in so bad a humour that not even a lover could have given it a better name. Negligent in dress and deportment, she leaned herself back, in a wayward mood, in her chair, and would eat nothing; made faces, threw her knife and fork away, grumbled right and left, and behaved most unbecomingly. Jane Maria blamed and moralized in vain; Ma chère mère said nothing, but I saw by certain glances that a storm was not far off. I was anxious, as I always am when I apprehend domestic strife, and did all that lay in my power to pacify all parties; but there was something strange in Jane Maria-it seemed as if she wished rather to unveil, than to conceal, Ebba's faults. Ebba began to sing to herself. "People don't usually sing at table, Ebba," said Jane Maria, louder than there was any occasion. Ma chère mère seemed to wish, as I did, to establish peace. She talked, therefore, with Ebba, in a joking tone; but Ebba only looked scornfully at her, by way of reply. "Ebba, it is very unseemly to look at Ma chère mère in that way," said the carping voice of Jane Maria. "Yet a cat may look at a king," remarked Ma chère mère, good-humouredly; then adding, but more seriously, that she thought she had a reasonable lady at table, and not a child. Ebba began to sing again. "Don't sing, Ebba," said Jane Maria; "but listen to what Ma chère mère says." "I don't know why I should do so," replied Ebba, with matchless effrontery. "Because it is your duty," thundered out Ma chère mère, striking the table with her clinched fist; "and if you do not know this already, fetch me the hangman! but I will teach it to you!" said she, rising, with all her features expressive of great displeasure. The storm, after this, might have passed over, had not Ebba's incivility exceeded all bounds. I had often remarked, that, in small things, Jane Maria wished to have the preference over Ebba or me. She will always enter a room first; be first conducted to table; once I heard her say to the servant, "Remember that you must always present me before the Baroness Ebba." I willingly let this pass unnoticed; but Ebba took every opportunity to oppose Jane Maria's assumed claim of priority. A plate of milk, which now unfortunately stood between the two sisters-in-law, was the occasion of strife. Jane Maria, with a very well-bred air, endeavoured to appropriate this to herself, when Ebba snatched it with such violence that the milk was spilled over Jane Maria's muslin dress. All was over now! Jane Maria grew scarlet; Ma chère mère pushed back her chair, and, without saying a word to Ebba, took her by the arm, and led her out of the dining-room. I was deeply ashamed, and wished myself away. We all arose; Jane Maria went to change her dress, and we assembled in the anteroom, into which Ma chère mère also soon came, leading in Ebba, whose face was scarlet, and who with difficulty kept back her sobs. She led her to Jane Maria, and pronounced an apology, which Ebba repeated, word for word, after her; whereupon the two sisters-inlaw embraced, but without cordiality. All this over, Ebba rushed to another room, threw herself on a sofa, and cried herself to sleep. of the game. Ebba appealed to me, and I gave my decision in her favour, with a merry remark on Jane Maria's opinion, which offended her; and, in return, she gave me a biting reply. Heaven knows how it was, that my thermometer rose in a moment! I was hot to, the very roots of my hair, answered somewhat tartly, and for some moments we two quarrelled sharply. As soon, however, as I saw Ma chère mère's large eyes fixed upon me, I was ashamed, blushed, and endeavoured to make amends for my over-hastiness; but never, surely, was a game so little cheerful! Jane Maria sat there as if in a church, and received all Ma chère mère's observations, whether coarse or fine, with icy coldness. Ma chère mère After coffee, Ma chère mère made the proposal to Jane Maria that she should play an overture, and then that they two should play a piece together. Jane Maria, who has no great opinion of Ma chère mère's musical talents, glanced at me, with a half-sarcastic expression, and then, in compliance with the request, played a sonnata of Mozart's, which Ma chère mère selected, and in I was truly rejoiced when they came to say which she accompanied her on the violin. Jane that the cabriolet was at the door. As I took Maria played with more ability than good-will. leave of Jane Maria, she withdrew from the kiss I was charmed, however, as I always am, by the which I wished to press warmly on her lips, and music of Mozart; but Jane Maria will not will-only coldly and scarcely perceptibly touched my ingly play any music but that of Hertz or Czerny, hand with the tips of her fingers. I was sorry to which, to my taste, is too fantastic and affected; see how angry she was with me. and this time, her superior talent, Ma chère mère's accompanied me to the hall, and said, "My dear zeal, and her being so practised in her " Mozart," Franziska, we have all been very wearisome toas she calls him, occasioned this piece to go off so day." well that Ma chère mère herself cried "Bravo!" "Ah, yes!" answered I, so truly from the After Jane Maria, it came my turn; but, part-depths of my heart, that Ma chère mère was oblily in consequence of the "grande sonate par ged to laugh, embraced me, and, looking keenly Steibelt avec accompagnement de violon" being at me, said, "Yes; and you have been no better wholly unknown to me, and partly in conse- than the rest, you child." quence of my being but a bungler on the piano Nor you, mother, either," said I, merrily; but, in comparison of Jane Maria, I performed only somewhat shocked at my boldness, I added, warmindifferently. In vain did Ma chère mère beat the ly, Forgive me!" and kissed her hand. time, in vain made such flourishes on her violin Now, come again to-morrow," said she, that my tympanum was nearly rent to pieces-laughing, and giving me a little slap on the cheek, we were still both of us out of time. We began" and we will try if we cannot do better; come, again-we repeated-she was impatient, and I my child! I will send the Norrkopings carriage was impatient-and we wound up with a perfect to fetch you and take you back-the horse knows charivari; afrer which, Ma chère mère laid down one way just as well as the other." her violin, and called me "a little sheep." This little parting scene lightened my heart. "When Jane Maria and I go together," said Ma chère mère possesses a stronger charm for me she, "it is very different-one can call that har-daily. But Jane Maria! How speeds it with mony." our friendship and La Commedia Divina? But The harmony, however, between Ma chère mère there are with every one bad days, when the temand Jane Maria was soon disturbed, in conse-per is out of tune; and I myself was, as Ma chère quence of a question of housewifery. Ma chère mère says, no better than the rest. mère uses one and a half measures of malt to To-morrow I hope all will be straight between two measures of beer, and to half a measure of Jane Maria and me. ale. Jane Maria asserted that one third less malt, according to her method, would brew the same quantity of good beer and ale. Ma chère mère said this was purely impossible, but Jane Maria abode by her assertion, and thus the strife lasted a long time; till, at last, Jane Maria let fall the remark, that Ma chère mère did not understand the right art of brewing. This was unlucky. "Will the egg be wiser than the hen?" asked Ma chère mère, with bitterness. "I do not trouble myself about your new-fashioned art of brewing, and your wonderful discoveries-there may be art in them, but there is all the less wort. They who have tried know; and I have seen a few more years, and a few more brewings, than you have, daughter-in-law Jane Maria." 26th, evening. No! all is not straight again between Jane Maria and me. Extraordinary, how any one, on account of a trifle, can nourish resentment, more especially when the warmth was mutual! Ma chère mère met me yesterday more cordially than common. Jane Maria, on the contrary, was constrained and unfriendly; she would not converse with me, and when I spoke to her scarcely answered me, which distressed me to the heart. I was also grieved for Ebba; she was pale and depressed, but not in ill-humour, and appeared as if she hardly understood either herself or life. She looked as if she needed a friend, and I determined to become such to her, according to my best ability. I remarked, also, that Jane Maria's moral lectures did no good; and that Jean Jacques's eternal exhortation to her, "to be rational, and go out and walk," only fixed the determination never to set foot out of doors, and to be as little rational as possible, the more firmly in her wilful brain. Jane Maria worked busily at the embroidery, grew very red, but was silent, with a countenance of superior wisdom. This was not pleasant; but, in the mean time, Ebba awoke, and came into the room like a bird after a shower. In order to amuse her, I proposed some cheerful game at I took the opportunity, during a moment when cards, to which Ma chère mère assented gladly, we were alone, to say to her, "Have you any deand we sat ourselves all down to a round table.sire to come to-morrow morning, quite early, to But, in the very beginning of the game, Jane our house, to drink new milk? I have a cow, Maria and Ebba fell into strife about some rule by name Audumbla, that gives the most delicious |