"Are you quite sure of it?" she asked, glancing timorously up and down the road. But the mysterious individual could no longer be seen. "And so, after exciting my curiosity in this manner, you will not satisfy it?" she said. "I cannot," rejoined Auriol, somewhat sternly. "Nay, then, since you are so ungracious, I shall go and prepare breakfast," she replied. "My father must be down by this time." "Stay!" cried Auriol, arresting her, as she was about to pass through the door. "I wish to have a word with you." Ebba stopped, and the bloom suddenly forsook her cheeks. But Auriol seemed unable to proceed. Neither dared to regard the other; and a profound silence prevailed between them for a few moments. "Ebba," said Auriol at length, "I am about to leave your father's house to-day." "Why so soon?" she exclaimed, looking up into his face. "You are not entirely recovered yet." "I dare not stay longer," he said. "Dare not!" cried Ebba. And she again cast down her eyes; but Auriol made no reply. Fortunately the silence was broken by the clinking of the smiths' hammers upon the anvil. "If you must really go," said Ebba, looking up, after a long pause, "I hope we shall see you again?" "Most assuredly," replied Auriol. "I owe your worthy father a deep debt of gratitude--a debt which, I fear, I shall never be able to repay." "My father is more than repaid in saving your life," she replied. "I am sure he will be sorry to learn you are going so soon." "I have been here a week," said Auriol. "If I remained longer, I might not be able to go at all." There was another pause, during which a stout old fellow in the workshop quitted the anvil for a moment, and, catching a glimpse of the young couple, muttered to his helpmate-- "I say, Ned, I'm a-thinkin' our master'll soon have a son-in-law. There's pretty plain signs on it at yonder door." "So there be, John," replied Ned, peeping round. "He's a good-lookin' young feller that. I wish ve could hear their discoorse." "No, that ain't fair," replied John, raking some small coal upon the fire, and working away at the bellows. "I would not for the world ask a disagreeable question," said Ebba, again raising her eyes, "but since you are about to quit us, I must confess I should like to know something of your history." "Forgive me if I decline to comply with your desire," replied Auriol. "You would not believe me, were I to relate my history. But this I may say, that it is stranger and wilder than any you ever heard. The prisoner in his cell is not restrained by more terrible fetters than those which bind me to silence." Ebba gazed at him as if she feared his reasoning were wandering.