THE FIRST DISAPPOINTMENT.
Nanna had arrived at the bottom step of the flight of stairs, when she
encountered Magde who was returning from a visit at a neighbor's house.
She had walked fast, and her face was crimson with heat and vexation.
When Magde first saw the young girl, she drew her bonnet close around
her face, intending to enter the house as quickly as Nanna wished to
depart; but when Nanna had reached the threshold she exclaimed:
"Where are you going?"
"To take a little walk," replied Nanna.
"Be careful, Nanna," said Magde seriously, "you will soon be a young
woman."
"And why should that affect you so?" replied Nanna, astonished at
Magde's caution.
"O, only that poor women who wish to preserve their fair fame, are not
allowed to go out when they choose."
"What did you say?"
"I say that the sun, earth, water, trees, and flowers, are made only for
the rich, who can admire them from their fine carriages and pleasure
yachts."
"But, dear Magde, you have always--"
"Silence, child," interrupted Magde, "you do not know the insults to
which we females of humble birth are exposed."
"We are not born that we should thus be insulted," said Nanna.
"True, true; but then we should have been born as deformed and ugly as
those sins, which even our modesty will not preserve us from being
suspected of."
"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."
"But dear father, is it not wrong to strive to make ourselves beautiful
when we are only poor people?"
"Beautiful!" exclaimed the old man, "what put that into your little
head?"
"Magde told me that all poor women ought to be born ugly, that their
reputation might not be suspected."
"Magde was a little out of humor, when she said that, and she who wishes
to please her husband so much, could not have really intended what she
said."
"Yes, but when a woman is married, it alters the case entirely."
"But why should not an unmarried girl wish herself handsome for the sake
of her father, her brother, and above all for her own sake? That is a
good wish so long as it continues innocent."
"When then, is it not innocent?" inquired Nanna.
"It is no longer innocent when the love of fine apparel, and the desire
to be beautiful, changes the heart, and the girl neglects her duties,
and gives her sole attention to that which should only serve as a
simple recreation; but that I am sure will never be the case with you."
Nanna was silent. She drooped her head. "There is no danger of that,"
thought she, "for who will care to witness the change?"
"On next St. John's day," continued her father, "you must wear that
elegant silk shawl which belonged to your poor mother."
As Nanna heard these words, a smile of peculiar meaning passed over her
lips. It was the smile of a woman who anticipates a future triumph.
"Thank God," said the old man, turning the conversation in another
channel, "for all the blessings he has bestowed upon us. Although we may
now be in trouble, when Ragnar's packages arrive, we shall be in better
circumstances. Poverty has many blessings of which the rich man cannot
even dream. The poor man's gratitude and joy for even the slightest
piece of fortune is too great to describe. The rich man has not that
relish for the good things of life that the poor man has."
While honest Lonner was thus losing himself in his meditations, Nanna
moved in her seat uneasily, and dropped stitch after stitch of her
knitting-work. The former topic of conversation was endurable, but
this--
Meanwhile, however, she did not dare to express her desire to be
liberated from her irksome position. Why was she afraid to do so? She
asked herself the question; the only reply she could make was, that
yesterday it would have been easy for her to say, "Father, I want to
take a little walk in the meadow;" but to-day, oh! that was different!
"I see you have your bonnet on!" said her father, "were you about taking
a walk?"
"I have not been out of the house before, to-day," replied Nanna.
"Well, then run away, my child; take all the enjoyment you can. You have
but little here."
Perhaps it was by expressions of this description from her father, that
mournful thoughts were engendered within the mind of the young girl,
causing her to fancy that something was wanting to complete her
happiness, and that she stood beyond the pale of those who should have
been her companions.
It is certainly plausible to suppose that these moments which the old
man had set apart for familiar conversation with his daughter, whom he
loved above all earthly things, for she reminded him of past days, might
have proved highly detrimental to Nanna's sensitive and susceptible
mind.
As matters now stood, it was plainly evident that, however economical,
industrious and thrifty she might be, Nanna would be compelled to be
content with her lot, should she wed an honest mechanic or a sloop
captain, which were the highest prizes which she, or any of the
neighboring maidens, might expect to win.
Like a captive bird which, after many fruitless struggles, finally
regains its liberty, Nanna quickly made use of her restored freedom, and
hastened from the door-yard. She was fully convinced that the young man
was no longer in the meadow, and now she suddenly remembered that she
had said nothing to her father or Magde about the stranger whom she had
encountered the previous evening. How strange it was that she had
forgotten to tell them! Yes, it was the strangest thing that ever had
occurred during her whole life, and how greatly astonished they would be
when she should tell them of her little adventure! Thus thought Nanna,
as she proceeded towards the meadow.