“I shall get to know!” thought Otto. “This violent love cannot be evaporated.” He paid attention to every little occurrence. Eva was the same quiet, modest creature as formerly—a house-fairy who exercised a friendly influence over all. Wilhelm spoke with her, but not with passion, neither with affected indifference. However, we cannot entirely rely upon Otto’s power of observation: his glance was directed too often toward a dearer object—his attention was really directed to Sophie.

They walked in the garden.

“Once as you certainly know,” said Otto, “your brother had a fancy for the pretty Eva. Is it not, therefore, somewhat dangerous her living here? Has your mother been prudent?”

“For Wilhelm I am quite unconcerned!” answered Sophie. “Only take care of yourself! Eva is very amiable, and has very much changed for the better since she came here. My sister Louise quite raves about her, and my mother regards her almost as an adopted daughter. You have certainly remarked that she is not kept in the background. Yet she is weak; she resembles the tender mountain-flowers which grow in ice and snow, but which bow their heads in the soft mountain air, when it is warmed by the sun. It really seems to me that she is become weaker since she has enjoyed our care and happy days. When I saw her at Roeskelde she was far more blooming.”

“Perhaps she thinks of your brother—thinks of him with quiet sorrow?”

“That I do not think is the case,” replied Sophie; “otherwise Louise would have heard something of it. She possesses Eva’s entire confidence. You may make yourself easy, if you are jealous!”

“What make you conjecture this? My thoughts are directed above, and not beneath me!” said he, with a kind of pride, “I feel that I could never fall in love with Eva. Feel love toward her? no! Even when I think of it, I feel almost as though I had some prejudice against her. But you joke; you will rally me, as you have so often done. We shall soon part! Only two months longer shall I remain in Denmark! Two long years abroad! How much may occur in that time! Will you think of me—really think of me, Miss Sophie?” He bent, and kissed her hand.

Sophie became crimson. Both were silent.

“Are you here!” said the mother, who came out of a side walk.

Otto stooped lower, and broke one of the beautiful stocks which hung over the border.

“Are you taking Louise’s favorite flowers?” said she, smiling. “This bed is declared to be inviolable.”

“I was so unfortunate as to break it!” said Otto, confused.

“He wished to gather the dark-red pink for my table-garland!” said Sophie. “If he took it, my conscience would be clear!”

And they all three walked along speaking of cherries, gooseberries, of the linen on the bleaching-ground, and of the warm summer’s day.

In the evening Eva and the two sisters sat at their work, Otto and Wilhelm had taken their seats beside them. They spoke of Copenhagen.

Sophie knew how to introduce a number of little anecdotes, which she had gathered among the young ladies there. Otto entered into her ideas, and knew cleverly how to support what she said. What in reality interested young ladies was discussed.

“When a girl is confirmed, all manner of fancies awake!” said Otto. “She experiences a kind of inclination for the heart of man; but this may not be acknowledged, except for two friends to the clergyman and the physician. For these she has quite a passion, especially for the former; she stands in a kind of spiritual rapport with him. His physical amiability melts into the spiritual. Thus her first love one may designate clergyman-love.”

“That is well said!” exclaimed Sophie.

“He preaches himself so deeply into her heart!” pursued Otto. “She melts into tears, kisses his hand, and goes to church; but not for the sake of God, but on account of the sweet clergyman!”

“O, I know that so well!” said Sophie, and laughed.

“Fie! you do not mean so!” said Louise; “and I do not know how you can say such a thing Mr. Thostrup! That is frightful! You do not in the least know a young girl’s soul! do not know the pure feeling with which she inclines herself to the man who has laid open before her the holy things of religion! Do not make sport of the innocent, the pure, which is so far removed from every earthly impression!”

“I assure you,” said Otto, smiling, “were I a poet, I would make the clergyman-love ridiculous in a hundred witty epigrams; and were I a teacher, I would protest against it from the chair.”

“That would be scattering poison into a well!” said Louise. “You, as a man, do not know the pure, the holy sentiment which exists in a young girl’s bosom. Eva, thou art certainly of my opinion?”

“Neither is this Mr. Thostrup’s opinion?” answered she, and looked at him with a mild gravity.

Wilhelm laughed aloud.