in search of her, arose from her seat upon the grass, and hastily
departed.

CHAPTER VII.

THE CHASE.

The next morning, a few hours before Carl, whistling a ballad of which
he was the author, commenced his journey over ditches and stiles, to
fulfill his engagement to watch with the children of the peasant woman,
Mr. Fabian H---- was awakened by his affectionate wife, who informed him
that it was time for him to prepare himself for his hunting expedition.

Sleepy, and unwilling to leave his cozy bed, for the sake of enjoying
the damp morning air, Mr. Fabian addressed his spouse with all the
tenderness which his state of mind would permit:

"Dear Ulgenie, you--"

Mistress Ulrica, however, did not permit herself to be moved by this
gentle epithet.

"Fabian," said she, shaking his shoulder roughly, "you are going to
sleep again. Quick! get up! I have had your top boots nicely greased,
and on the chair you will find your hunting coat and game-bag.
Everything is made as comfortable as possible."

"Sweet Ulgenie," expostulated Mr. Fabian.

The amiable lady smiled as she heard him speak, and had not an
unfortunate yawn accompanied those two tender words, in all probability
they would have terminated this chapter. But the word yawn is not found
in Love's dictionary, and consequently the unlucky husband was forced to
rise from his bed preparatory to going forth to perform deeds of valor
in obedience to the commands of his mistress.

"Do not neglect to awaken Gottlieb. He also must learn the noble art of
hunting."

"I will, my dear, I will," said her husband, perspiring with his
exertions, as he forced himself into his hunting garments which Mistress
Ulrica had made from a pattern of her own invention. But when Mr. Fabian
had completed his toilette, he hastened from the house, intentionally
forgetting to awaken Gottlieb, for, as we shall soon discover, he had
urgent reasons for wishing to perform his hunting exploits without the
hindrance of a companion. As Sir Fabian was, so to speak, his wife's
butler, he had provided himself with a deputy butler, who generally
received a hint of the day and the hour, when stern fate would compel
his master to encase his feet in heavy hunting boots.

We now see this martyr to the holy cause of matrimony, puffing and
blowing beneath the weight of his heavy gun, as he wends his way across
the fields towards a certain spot in the forest at which he finally
arrives. He look