lessons, not extending beyond the most conventional acquirements,
Marlene had taken a part.

Now that the boy manifested a very decided taste for natural history,
his time was filled up in earnest; preparing him for one of the higher
classes of a school in the neighbouring town. With a firm unwearying
will, and his natural dispositions aiding, he laboured through all that
had been omitted in his education, and soon attained the level of his
years. For many an hour together, he would sit in the sexton's garden
with his book; but there was now no question of their former chat.
Marlene felt her twofold loss--her lessons and her friend.

CHAPTER IV.

The autumn came, and with it a few days' pause in the lad's studies.
The vicar had resolved to take his son, before the winter, on an
excursion among the mountains; to shew him the hills and dales, and
give him a deeper insight into a world that already had seemed so fair,
even upon the meagre plains around their village.

When the boy first heard of it; "Marlene must go with us," he said.
They attempted to dissuade him, but he refused to go without her. "What
if she cannot see?" he said; "The mountain-air is strengthening, and
she has been so pale and weak, and she falls into anxious fancies when
I am away."

They did his bidding therefore; the young girl was lifted into the
carriage beside Clement and his parents, and one short day's journey
brought them to the foot of the mountain-chain. Here commenced their
wanderings on foot. Patiently the boy conducted his little friend, now
more reserved than ever. He often felt a wish to climb some solitary
peak that promised a fresh expanse of view, but he led her wherever she
wished to go, and would not give up the charge, often as his parents
would have relieved him of it.

Only when they had reached a height, or were resting in some shady
spot, would he leave the young girl's side; seeking his own path among
the most perilous rocks, he would go collecting stones or plants not to
be found below. Then when he returned to the resting party, he had
always something to bring Marlene--some berries, a sweet-scented
flower, or some soft bird's-nest blown from the trees by the wind.

She would accept them with gentle thanks; she appeared to be more
contented than at home, and she really was so, for all day long she
breathed the same air with him. But, her foolish jealousies went with
her. She fel