heard the sound of a horse's feet approaching, and observed that it had stopped at the paved pathway which led to the house. She concluded it was her father, and rose to meet him, when the door opened, and the young Count Otto entered, starting with astonishment at seeing the beautiful Italian girl in a Danish forester's house. He did not know if he was dreaming or awake, for never before had he beheld any one so lovely, and the Southern costume gave to the charming figure which stood before him an air strangely fanciful and romantic.

'Giuliana!' he exclaimed, after a moment's reflection. 'Yes, you must be Giuliana herself; and I am Otto,' he added--'the frolicsome little Otto, who teazed you with bitter oranges in the corner of the carriage ten years ago.'

'Otto!' cried Giuliana, calling to mind the half-grown boy who used to be her playfellow, as she had often seen him in her dreams of childhood. In her joy she had almost thrown her arms round his neck, but she beheld a handsome young man before her, and drew back, blushing. 'You have taken me by surprise, count,' she said, colouring still more deeply. 'I was only a very little child when you last saw me, and now you find in me but a big child. I expected no one but my father this evening, and this dress--'

'Becomes you admirably,' interrupted the count, 'and transports me back, as if by magic, to fair Italy. Do not thus cast your eyes down; let me see if I can recognize my little pet of five years old again. Yes, the eyes are the same; but I must not now speak so familiarly to you, or call you "my Giuliana," as I did then.'

'And my little knight Otto, with his wooden sword, which was to protect me from the brigands, has also disappeared,' said Giuliana. 'But tell me, count, what fortunate circumstance has recalled us to your recollection, that you should surprise us with a visit here, in our remote hermitage?'

'I shall tell that to your father,' replied Otto, gravely. 'He is not at home, I find: but do you not expect him back this evening?'

'He is out hunting in the forest,' said Giuliana. 'However, I hope he will come home this evening; I have seen very little of him for some days past. But you must be tired after your long journey, and must require some refreshment. Please to make yourself at home here, Herr Count, and excuse my absence for a few minutes; I will soon return.'

So saying, Giuliana tripped out of the room, and Count Otto sat down near the table. At first he observed nothing around him; he could see nothing but the image of the beautiful Giuliana, who had made a sudden and strong impression upon him, which, however, he chose to ascribe to her fanciful attire, and the surprise of their first meeting.

Nevertheless, he almost forgot why he had come, and that his visit was more to the father than to the daughter. But he now decided on remaining a little time at Soröe. Carelessly glancing over the table, he observed some of the best travels in Italy that had ever been published, and lying near them, collections of engravings of the most remarkable places, and of national costumes. He also saw some nicely-bound volumes, containing Tasso and Aristo in their original language, and, on a shelf against the wall, handsome copies of the old Danish tragedies, with selections from the best Danish and foreign poets.

A small wooden crucifix, on which was placed a wreath of immortelles, stood on a chest of drawers in an alcove, and at its feet lay an open Bible. The count rose, and, approaching the recess, he saw a curtain, which he drew aside, when a small bed on a pretty oaken bedstead in a corner became visible.

'Here, then, that lovely creature sleeps,' thought he, 'happy in her sweet, innocent dreams: and she has chosen very intellectual and refined company for her solitude. Who would have expected to find such a girl in an abode like this?'

At that moment a nice-looking peasant girl entered, and began to arrange the table for supper--it was Giuliana, who had laid aside the foreign costume in which she had felt so embarrassed before the stranger. He thought she looked still more charming in the simple, unpretending peasant dress, but he did not wish to make her feel bashful by letting her see how much he admired her. He questioned her about her father's circumstances, and her own position; and then informed her of his mother's death, a piece of intelligence which made a much deeper impression on Giuliana's feeling heart than he could have anticipated.

He himself was much affected when he told of his bereavement; but his extreme grief seemed to be caused by something more than even sorrow for her loss. As soon as they had recovered themselves a little, the count took pains to avoid entering further on a subject so distressing to them both, and led the conversation towards those topics on which the various books of travels scattered about made him think he could venture. He soon perceived how the dim, childish recollections in Giuliana's excitable mind had been revived, and kept from fading away, by the beautiful engravings and interesting works depicting the enchanting land of her birth, and how it was that she felt herself such a stranger in the bleak North, and longed so much to return to the sunny South. To her it appeared like a wonderful fairyland, where her brightest dreams and hopes were centred. Her father's fits of deep melancholy, and his frequent uncontrollable bursts of agony of soul--the cause of which she could not fathom, and which she had no means of alleviating--often grieved her extremely. The constraint under which she generally felt with him, even when he was in good spirits, and unusually cheerful, contributed much to increase her longing for a change to a brighter land, and also to make her contrast in her young mind the peace and happiness entwined amidst her childish recollections, with her gloomy life in the lonely forest lodge.

She did not, however, express these sentiments to the young count, or dwell upon her own feelings, but they were soon perceived by her observant guest. He had begun to place before her some pleasanter prospects for the future, and had just mentioned that he knew a family who were soon going to Italy, and that they were in want of a lady-companion, who would take charge of two little girls. He was just speaking of this, and feeling in his own secret soul some dim, undefined hopes of agreeable days to come, when the neighing of a horse was heard close by. Suddenly the door was opened, and a man entered, in whom the count recognized the solitary hunter he had seen near the old tree in the forest, whose countenance had appeared so dreadful to him in the pale moonlight.

'My dear father,' cried Giuliana, springing forward to meet him, 'guess whom I have to present to you! Hush!' said she to Otto, 'let us see if he can find out who you are.'

Otto, who had been standing in the shade, now came forward towards the light which Giuliana held up near his face, and looked earnestly and in silence at Italian Franz.

'What is the matter, father?' exclaimed Giuliana. 'You have turned deadly pale--you seem to be seized with giddiness!'

'Who art thou?' cried Franz, starting back from Otto as if struck with sudden insanity. 'If thou art a living being, speak!--speak, and do not thus gaze like a spectre at me!'

'Good Heavens, father! it is only Otto!' said Giuliana, anxiously, yet soothingly.

'We take turns in being afraid of each other this evening,' said the count. 'For as I rode past you in the forest, Franz, I took you for a spectre, or some awful apparition, and now you pay me the same compliment, I see. But how goes it, old Franz, and how are you?'

'Very well, Herr Count--very well, thank you,' said