Though it was still early, the road was astir with passengers; and many waggons and carts, laden with hay, straw, and vegetables, were passing. Ebba, however, had been solely drawn forth by the beauty of the morning, and she stopped for a moment at the street gate, to breathe the balmy air. As she inhaled the gentle breeze, and felt the warm sunshine upon her cheek, her thoughts wandered away into the green meadows in which she had strayed as a child, and she longed to ramble amid them again. Perhaps she scarcely desired a solitary stroll; but however this might be, she was too much engrossed by the reverie to notice a tall man, wrapped in a long black cloak, who regarded her with the most fixed attention, as he passed on the opposite side of the road. Proceeding to a short distance, this personage crossed over, and returned slowly towards the iron-merchant's dwelling. Ebba then, for the first time, remarked him, and was startled by his strange, sinister appearance. His features were handsome, but so malignant and fierce in expression, that they inspired only aversion. A sardonic grin curled his thin lips, and his short, crisply curled hair, raven-black in hue, contrasted forcibly and disagreeably with his cadaverous complexion. An attraction like that of the snake seemed to reside in his dark blazing eyes, for Ebba trembled like a bird beneath their influence, and could not remove her gaze from them. A vague presentiment of coming ill smote her, and she dreaded lest the mysterious being before her might be connected in some inexplicable way with her future destiny. On his part, the stranger was not insensible to the impression he had produced, and suddenly halting, he kept his eyes riveted on those of the girl, who, after remaining spell-bound, as it were, for a few moments, precipitately retreated towards the house. Just as she reached the door, and was about to pass through it, Auriol came forth. He was pale, as if from recent suffering, and bore his left arm in a sling. "You look agitated," he said, noticing Ebba's uneasiness. "What has happened?" "Not much," she replied, a deep blush mantling her cheeks. "But I have been somewhat alarmed by the person near the gate." "Indeed!" cried Auriol, darting forward. "Where is he? I see no one." "Not a tall man, wrapped in a long black cloak?" rejoined Ebba, following him cautiously. "Ha!" cried Auriol. "Has he been here?" "Then you know the person I allude to?" she rejoined. "I know some one answering his description," he replied, with a forced smile. "Once beheld, the man I mean is not to be forgotten," said Ebba. "He has a countenance such as I never saw before. If I could believe in the 'evil eye,' I should be sure he possessed it." "'Tis he, there can be no doubt," rejoined Auriol, in a sombre tone. "Who and what is he, then?" demanded Ebba. "He is a messenger of ill," replied Auriol, "and I am thankful he is gone." [Illustration: The Iron-merchant's Daughter.]