"A very small matter, at least. I wanted to steal the first kiss from my bride that is to be, and she would not allow it."

"Your bride, fat-paunch!" cried Svartberg in extreme wonderment; "what the devil is all this? This I will never do. Harkye, old currycomb, no one has a right to take any thing here, not so much as a kiss, without my leave. D'ye hear that?"

"Gently, gently," retorted Martin Thy in a jesting tone; "I am certainly a mere David in comparison with such a Goliath as you, but I am more active than I look-can jump higher than any one would thinkhigh enough, perhaps, to catch you by the flaxen curls upon your forehead, if you meddle with the best horse in my stable. But you can take a joke, sergeant dear?" concluded he, with a sly side-glance at the Swede.

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"No, no, jockey, not I indeed, you are a deal too cunning for me, one never finds you where one leaves you. When I sent for you the other day for my horse, they said you were sick, but it seems you were on the road. Where have you been?"

"Westward," replied the horsedealer quietly, "on my own honest business. I came home this evening, and the first person I cared to see was my little girl here-besides that, I have a word or two to say to the worshipful sergeant."

"To me? Come then, and be quick about it, and have a care that my sabre does not take a fancy to speak a word or two to your shoulders." And with this uncivil warning, Svartberg took the little man by the collar, and pushed him before him into the adjoining room.

Thor Hansen and the young people had listened in silence to this short and sharp dialogue. Out of prudence they abstained from interrupting the horse-dealer, although his bold assertions were not very pleasing to them. Now they stood embarrassed and attentive, trying to catch something of what passed in the next apartment, -but without success, for the Swede and his companion spoke in low tones and in short broken sentences. In a short time the two men returned to the sitting-room, the horse-dealer's

countenance wearing its usual sly quick expression; the tall sergeant with less decision in his gait, and with a mixture of vexation and mistrust upon his features. When Martin Thy took his leave and departed, he followed him with a sort of constrained courtesy as far as the courtyard, and did not re-enter the house till the horse's hoofs were heard trotting along the narrow road.

Meanwhile the father and son had gone out to fodder the cattle. With folded arms Svartberg walked for a while up and down the room. On a sudden he stopped short in front of Christina, who sat spinning, as usual, and gazed at her long and tenderly. At last he broke silence.

"Fye upon you, my pretty Christina!" he said; "you surely do not seriously mean to throw yourself away on yon black-bearded monster?"

"You must not take for earnest all Martin Thy says," replied the maiden, blushing; "you know what a strange creature he is."

"Oh certainly," replied the soldier in a sharper tone, "I know devilish well what he is, and I also know what I am myself. Better I certainly might be; but you, Christina, your father and all belonging to you, know well that I am none of the worst."

"That we do, Svartberg, you have been a help and protection so long as you have dwelt in our house; and, without you, Heaven knows how it might have fared with us."

"Once for all, then, Christina, tell me how I stand with you; for curse me if I can make out. You know I love you,-I have never concealed it, and I did think you looked kindly upon me; but here comes this potbellied horse-dealer, and says you are to marry him! Tell me honestly, is it true?"

Whilst the young girl, with natural bashfulness, hesitated to reply to this home-question, the sergeant seated himself by her side, and, in his softest tones and sweetest words, told her how ardently he loved her. He strove to rouse her gratitude by reminding her of the beneficial influence of his presence in the house, how he had defended and saved her and hers from the plunder and ill-treatment they would otherwise inevitably have suf

fered. In glowing colours he depicted the happy and prosperous life they would lead together, if she would follow him to Sweden when his term of service expired. He had a farm in Dalecarlia, he said, and she should be his wife and its mistress. Then he drew from his finger a broad gold ring, with his name upon it, and endeavoured, but in vain, to prevail upon her to accept it. And many times he asked, with mournful earnestness, if what Master Thy had told him were true; betraying in his manner, each time he mentioned the name of this man, previously so indifferent to him, an unusual reserve and circumspection. At last, as Christina, although with eyes full of tears, still persisted in her silence, he rose from his seat.

"I have opened my whole heart to you, Christina," said he, "and I have too good an opinion of you to suppose for an instant you would, without compulsion, prefer that little punchy hedgehog of a Jutlander to a gallant Swede and smart soldier like myself. Perhaps you are afraid of your father? or of your dwarf of a bridegroom? If so, I promise you efficient protection. I have at Raskenbjerg❞— here the young girl looked up from her work with a terrified glance," a good comrade, who has married a countrywoman of yours. With your consent, I will conduct you thither, and there you shall remain, in all safety, until we leave the country;-and that will not be long," added he, sinking his voice, and with a cautious glance around him.

The mere name of Raskenbjerg had upon Christina an effect of which Svartberg never dreamed. She thought with a shudder of the tales she had often heard related, and to which the horse-dealer had so recently referred. She remembered the blunt cordiality with which Martin Thy had promised her protection, and suspected Svartberg of evil designs, which he proposed carrying out by craft rather than by violence. Full of this idea, she told the sergeant plainly that she really was betrothed to Martin Thy, entreated him to show himself as generous in this matter as he had always previously been, and declared firmly and positively she would adhere to her promise. She

ventured even to tell him, he must have a very poor opinion of her if he thought to lead her astray by honeyed words and fine manners. All this she said to the young Swede in plain language, and in tones earnest, although gentle; and the whole expression of her countenance and manner gave evidence of so much strength of will that Svartberg, after having once or twice more passionately conjured her to tell him the truth about Martin Thy-betraying, each time he mentioned the name, the same kind of confused manner as before-grasped helm and sabre, and with an exclamation of disappointment and vexation, hurried into his apartment.

It had rained and blown the entire night, the sky was gray and dreary, the first glimpse of dawn scarce appeared in the east. Christina had milked the cows, but still she lingered in the stable awaiting her lover. Her heart was very heavy; the peace and safety in which the family had hitherto lived seemed suddenly to have fled, and that she should be the innocent cause of its departure forced many a sigh from her gentle bosom. She had not waited long when there was a cautious tap at the back-door leading into the field; she opened it quickly, and Hans entered. Christina threw her arms round his neck.

"At last, dear Hans!" said she tenderly: "how anxiously I have waited for you!"

"I come from the horse-dealer's," replied Hans, breathing short, like one who had made speed. "He was in bed and fast asleep, and was almost angry with me for awaking him. He told me, however, that he had heard, God knows from whom, that Danish troops had attempted a night-landing near Nyeborg, but had been prevented by the storm, and had sailed northwards. He pretends also that Danish and German reinforcements are off the west coast of the island. With respect to you, and the proposal he made last night, he maintains it is the only safe means of escaping Svartberg's designs. Whether the offer was serious or sham, he would not distinctly say: it was no business of mine, he said; it might be joke, or it might be earnest. And when I solemnly swore to him that I would

endure neither the one nor the other, he laughed at me, and bid me go home and let him go to sleep. As I stole through the village, the trumpeters blew the alarm, and the troopers began to mount. So we are not safe here; the sergeant may surprise us at any moment."

And having concluded his parting narrative, Hans prepared to quit his mistress for the day. So engrossed were the young people by a long farewell kiss, that they were unaware of the entrance of sergeant Svartberg, till he had gazed at them for some seconds in a state of seeming petrifaction.

"Hell and the devil!" was the profane exclamation of the gallant sergeant, on recovering his powers of speech. "Pretty work this, by my honour! So so, my coy beauty," continued he, his lips trembling, his cheeks pale, his eyes ominously flashing, and with bitter irony in his voice, "is it the custom in this country to marry two husbands, one young and the other old? Now I know the meaning of your shyness, and what your intentions are; oh! I see through the whole conspiracy. But wait a bit, I'll pay you all off. Hallo! Olof and Peter!" cried he to two dragoons in the stable-yard, "dismount, and tie this younker upon the ammunitionwaggon you have to take to Nyeborg." Whilst the bearded horsemen got out of their saddles to obey their sergeant's commands, the latter turned once more to the trembling Christina.

"So this was your game, my charmer!" said he scornfully. "Have you already forgotten what you told me last evening, when you had me sighing like an old woman? I never felt so soft in my life, not since my mother first laid me in the cradle, with a pap-spoon in my mouth. Ha! it shall be the last time I waste fair words when force will gain my end. No, no!" he shouted, as Christina, with tearful eyes and speechless with grief, extended her clasped hands in supplication, "you won't get him off, I can tell you, not if you were an angel from heaven. Why don't you intercede for your other lover, the old one? No, no, neither mercy nor pardon."

"Ah! sergeant, be not so cruel; let

the lad go," exclaimed a voice behind Svartberg. "Surely you are not going to turn restive! You kick out a little, but I am certain a mouthful of hay will pacify you. Come, a word with you!"

The horse-dealer, for he it was, took the angry Swede by the bandelier, and Svartberg followed him, although with manifest unwillingness, to the further side of the court. Here Martin Thy deliberately unbuttoned his brown doublet and three or four waistcoats, produced, from the inmost recesses of his attire, a small greasy leather book, and thence extracted a scrap of parchment. This he placed before the eyes of the sergeant, following the lines with his finger as Svartberg read, and pausing now and then at particular words, as if they were talismanic characters, intended to allay the soldier's irritation. This, whatever they were, they appeared to do. More calmly, but with a harsh and sullen expression of countenance, and like a man yielding with an ill grace to a power he dares not resist, Svartberg approached Hans Thorsen, who stood in gloomy silence between the two dragoons.

"Let the fellow go," he cried, "and to horse! You tell me we shall not come back, Thy. I neither know nor care how you learned it, but remember I make you responsible for both of them. If I do return, I will claim both her and him at your hands, and God help you if they are not forthcoming."

He spoke thus whilst tightening his horse's girths, and when he turned his head the horse-dealer had already disappeared. With a muttered oath, Svartberg sprang into the saddle, and, without bestowing another glance upon the young people, galloped out of the court, quite forgetting to bequeath Christina one of those graceful salutations with which it was his wont to bid her adieu.

Field-marshal Shack had landed his troops without accident at Kjerteminde, and Lieutenant-general Eberstein, with equal good fortune, had got his little army on shore at Middelfahrt. The young prince of Sulzbach at first advanced against the latter general; but then, afraid of being cut off and surrounded by the former, he changed his plan, and drew back his

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whole forces to a stronger position at Nyeborg. The entire Swedish army lay either in this town, or encamped in its front; their previous quarters were vacant. Consequently, in the village of Vinding all was still and quiet as in the grave. It was evening. Thor Hansen and his son had betaken themselves to the tavern, where a great number of peasants, retainers of the lord of the soil, travellers, and others, were assembled, discussing the latest news. These seemed important, judging from the noise and excitement that prevailed all spoke at once, none listened, and, as if all danger were now over, none troubled their heads about what passed out of doors. But in the little room at Thor Hansen's house, Christina sat at work, full of melancholy thoughts. She certainly understood little about the march of events and prospects of the country, but love and sorrow had so far quickened her perceptions of political matters, that she foresaw much evil to herself and Hans if the Swedes got the upper hand. Another of her subjects of meditation was the strange influence the horse-dealer exercised over Svartberg. Upon what was it founded? Would it last? And, even if it did, and she was thereby delivered from the sergeant's importunities, might not Martin Thy press his own claimsclaims which her own and her father's consent, admitted to Svartberg, and whereon was based the protection they enjoyed, rendered in some sort valid? These, and similar reflections, always ending in fears for Hans, drew bitter tears from her eyes, and so absorbed her mind that she was as unconscious as the noisy party at the tavern of what occurred without. Suddenly the latch was lifted, the house-door gently opened, and Svartberg stood before her.

"You weep, dearest !" he said, as he slowly approached the table beside which Christina sat, whilst an expression of mingled irony and grief passed across his martial features;

do those precious tears flow, perchance, for me? By the cross! how pale and moist are those pretty cheeks."

"What would you, sergeant?" said the maiden, recovering from her first surprise, and in accents of deep afflic

tion.

"Do you come to renew your recent cruelty, or to atone for it ?" "What I would ?" replied the sergeant. "You know, Christina, that my heart is not a hard one, but quite the contrary, soft as can be, and you it is, my angel, who have made it so. Frankly and plainly, however, do I tell you, that without you it will harden again, ay, as marble. Without you I cannot live: you must away with me on the instant !"

"Alas, Svartberg, have I not already told you I am betrothed to Martin Thy!" cried the alarmed maiden anxiously.

"Pshaw!" cried Svartberg, "you do not expect me to swallow that fable? All lie and deception, as sure as there is a God in heaven, I have long seen through the old fox, but now I know him, and he shall not stand long in any body's way. As to any harm he may have told you of me, the knave lies in his throat."

"Svartberg!" exclaimed Christina, terrified at the increasing vehemence of the Swede's tone and manner, "you have power

"Ha!" interrupted the soldier, "that have I, and know how to use it. Christina, I cannot exist without you-by the living God I cannot! and though you were betrothed to Sweden's king, to me you must belong-mine you shall be! I have here," he continued, in a hurried and passionate whisper, "two comrades, and a cart to convey you to Nyeborg. I shall soon have served my time, and then will I take you home to my old mother in Dalecarlia, and there you shall live like a queen, or my name is not Jon Svartberg! Come! every moment is precious !"

The stalwart sergeant seized the fainting girl by the waist, raised her in his arms, regardless of her feeble struggles, and hurried to the door. Just then a loud uproar arose outside the house. Svartberg started, laid Christina in an arm-chair, and listened. The noise increased; shouts and cries, and two pistol-shots, reached his ear; and then Hans Thorsen and Martin Thy, followed by a legion of rustics armed with axes and hay-forks, poured into the room through both its doors. Surprised, but no way disconcerted, by their sudden appearance

and menacing mien, the sergeant, with a military eye for a good position, retreated into a corner, where the oak table served him as barricade, and laid hand upon a pistol in his belt. Either on account of the great odds against him, or through fear of injuring Christina, or because consciousness of evil-doing robbed him of his usual decision, he did not use the weapon, however, but preferred flight to a contest whose issue could hardly have been advantageous to him. Springing actively upon the long bench below the window, and still keeping his face to the enemy, he set his heavily-booted leg against the casement, which gave way, and fell with a clatter and jingling into the garden. Then, with his favourite exclamation, "Ha! in the devil's name!" he swung himself, light as a bird, through the opening. A peasant, on sentry below, essayed to seize him, but was prostrated by a blow that might have felled an ox; and the fugitive sped through the garden, his accoutrements rattling as he ran, and indicating the direction he took. All this while the peasants were not idle: some followed him through the window, others through the door; and as it was nearly full moon and the sky tolerably clear, the foremost distinctly saw him run across the meadow, and disappear amongst the oaks. With all speed they surrounded the little thicket; some lining the banks of the stream bounding it to the north, whilst others made diligent search amongst the trees and brushwood. Far and near their voices were heard, shouting to each other encouragement and inquiries. "Have you got him? Is he there? He has not crossed the stream. Look out, lads! Cut him down, wherever you find him!" And cut down the Swede undoubtedly would have been, had he been found; but to find him was the great difficulty. Not a bush large enough to shelter a rabbit but was beaten by the peasants, furious at the disappointment of their revenge on one of the detested tyrants who so long had oppressed them. Even the branches of the trees, although stripped of their leaves by the chill autumn wind so as scarcely to afford concealment, did not escape examination. But all was VOL. LXIV.-NO. CCCXCIV.

in vain. It seemed as though the earth had swallowed the missing man. He had disappeared and left no trace. When at last convinced of this, the boors gazed at each other in astonishment and vexation, not unmingled with dismay. The devil-so some of them muttered-had helped his own. At last Hans Thorsen, convinced of the inutility of further research, prevailed on a few of the most resolute to keep guard round the wood, and returned home to look for his father and comfort his mistress.

Although Sergeant Svartberg had never implicitly believed Martin Thy's story of his intended marriage with Christina, the horse-dealer had found means to inspire him with a certain respect, which prevented his pursuing his object with open violence. His passion for the maiden, inflamed by unexpected resistance, had made him resolve, especially when the scene in the cow-house put him upon the trail of the truth, to employ every means to attain his end. Hans he despised as a peasant lout, and felt himself in no way obliged to respect his claims, or consider his rights. Were Christina once his, he trusted to win, by redoubled tenderness, a heart which he believed-perhaps rightly-harboured no particular repugnance towards him. He was overjoyed, therefore, when he received orders to take two dragoons, and fetch a couple of ammunition waggons left behind in Vinding; and he promised himself he would make good use of this favourable opportunity of carrying out his designs upon Thor Hansen's pretty kinswoman. Out of precaution, he avoided riding through the village, and took a circuitous route to Hansen's house. Before arriving there, however, he was compelled to pass some stables where Martin Thy was wont to keep horses, of which he sometimes had a great number on hand. Cunning Martin, whom nothing escaped, was looking through a hole in the stable wall, and recognised, notwithstanding the evening gloom, Jon Svartberg's big-boned mare. Suspecting mischief, he hurried to the tavern, and proposed to surprise the uninvited guests; the peasants joyfully assented, and at once sallied forth, heated with liquor

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