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.