"
"Now, do not laugh at my fancy--or be vexed with poor Carl. I think
that--he loves me too much, and his passion has weighed heavily upon
him, although he does not, himself, understand it."
"Your words are worthy of reflection, Magde; now I remember, his conduct
did appear peculiar when he said he envied me the privilege of kissing
you. Poor fellow, how could I be vexed with him? He, probably, never
desired to vex either you or myself."
"Never. Frequently during the summer I have placed flowers in his room,
and in them he took his greatest delight. Even now he loves to hear me
sing to him, or to read a chapter in the Bible, above all other things."
"Such love," said Ragnar, "is a beautiful rose, the perfume of which
cheers a drooping spirit. He may continue his love; it will sustain him
in his last trial. Hereafter, I will not even take your hand in his
presence."
"How kind you are, dear Ragnar. Now I can be to him as I was before your
return." Magde wiped the tears from her long eyelashes, and before
Ragnar could question her, she continued: "You may depend upon my
fidelity.
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