e.

Seated in a chair with her hand resting upon the cradle, Magde was now
sleeping soundly.

She had been called, probably, while she was engaged in assorting her
little treasures, to attend to the wants of her infant, and overcome by
fatigue had unwillingly submitted to the power of that consoler of human
grief, sleep. Her face was turned towards the window, and the moonlight
illumined her entire figure, which was rendered more prominent by the
fact that the cradle stood in the centre of the room. She was still
attired in the garments she had borrowed, and her brown hair, fell in
two long braids over her loose white sleeves, from whence they dropped
upon the face of the sleeping child, while Magde's elbow was resting
upon the little pillow.

"What a picture for a painter!" thought Gottlieb. "Young Lonner is not
the most miserable of men, by my faith; but I know one who at some
future time will look much prettier in that position!"

The dull sound of a horse's hoofs, aroused him from his reveries.

"Ah, ha," thought he as a smile of triumph played upon his lips, "I was
right. We shall now see what is to happen."

Gottlieb returned to his hiding place in the hedge with noiseless
rapidity. He had not remained long in his somewhat tiresome position,
when the sound of the horse's hoofs ceased, and from the noise which
proceeded from the other side of the hedge he concluded that the owner
of the horse had dismounted and was securing his animal to a tree.

He soon heard the sound of light footsteps proceeding over the grass,
and then he discovered the familiar form of Mr. Fabian approaching the
cottage. After the new comer had assured himself that the door was
fastened he advanced to the window near which Gottlieb had been standing
a moment before. Instead of spending time in useless watchfulness he
immediately tapped upon the window; but Magde slept so soundly that the
noise did not disturb her.

Mr. Fabian flatted his nose against the window pane and suddenly
discovered the picture that Gottlieb had so much admired. Yet it was not
an expression of love which passed his lips as he gazed upon her.

"Confound that woman!" he exclaimed, "she drives me mad, and I believe
she would look on, if I was parching with thirst in the torments of
hell, and not give me a single drop of water."

He again tapped upon the pane so loudly, that a person less fatigued
than Magde would have awakened. At this moment Mr. Fabian was str