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The sky +above him,--his canopy,--gleamed with a cold yet lustrous blue, +while across it slowly flitted a few wandering clouds of palest +amber, deepening, as they sailed along, to a tawny orange. A broad +stream of light falling, as it were, from the centre of the +magnificent orb, shot lengthwise across the Altenfjord, turning its +waters to a mass of quivering and shifting color that alternated +from bronze to copper,--from copper to silver and azure. The +surrounding hills glowed with a warm, deep violet tint, flecked here +and there with touches of bright red, as though fairies were +lighting tiny bonfires on their summits. Away in the distance a huge +mass of rock stood out to view, its rugged lines transfigured into +ethereal loveliness by a misty veil of tender rose pink,--a hue +curiously suggestive of some other and smaller sun that might have +just set. Absolute silence prevailed. Not even the cry of a sea-mew +or kittiwake broke the almost deathlike stillness,--no breath of +wind stirred a ripple on the glassy water. The whole scene might +well have been the fantastic dream of some imaginative painter, +whose ambition soared beyond the limits of human skill. Yet it was +only one of those million wonderful effects of sky and sea which are +common in Norway, especially on the Altenfjord, where, though beyond +the Arctic circle, the climate in summer is that of another Italy, +and the landscape a living poem fairer than the visions of Endymion. + +There was one solitary watcher of the splendid spectacle. This was a +man of refined features and aristocratic appearance, who, reclining +on a large rug of skins which he had thrown down on the shore for +that purpose, was gazing at the pageant of the midnight sun and all +its stately surroundings, with an earnest and rapt expression in his +clear hazel eyes. + +"Glorious! beyond all expectation, glorious!" he murmured half +aloud, as he consulted his watch and saw that the hands marked +exactly twelve on the dial. "I believe I'm having the best of it, +after all. Even if those fellows get the Eulalie into good position +they will see nothing finer than this." + +As he spoke he raised his field-glass and swept the horizon in +search of a vessel, his own pleasure yacht,--which had taken three +of his friends, at their special desire, to the opposite island of +Seiland,--Seiland, rising in weird majesty three thousand feet above +the sea, and boasting as its chief glory the great peak of Jedke, +the most northern glacier in all the wild Norwegian land. There was +no sign of a returning sail, and he resumed his study of the +sumptuous sky, the colors of which were now deepening and burning +with increasing lustre, while an array of clouds of the deepest +purple hue, swept gorgeously together beneath the sun as though to +form his footstool. + +"One might imagine that the trump of the Resurrection had sounded, +and that all this aerial pomp,--this strange silence,--was just the +pause, the supreme moment before the angels descended," he mused, +with a half-smile at his own fancy, for though something of a poet +at heart, he was much more of a cynic. He was too deeply imbued with +modern fashionable atheism to think seriously about angels or +Resurrection trumps, but there was a certain love of mysticism and +romance in his nature, which not even his Oxford experiences and the +chilly dullness of English materialism had been able to eradicate. +And there was something impressive in the sight of the majestic orb +holding such imperial revel at midnight,--something almost unearthly +in the light and life of the heavens, as compared with the +referential and seemingly worshipping silence of the earth,--that, +for a few moments, awed him into a sense of the spiritual and +unseen. Mythical passages from the poets he loved came into his +memory, and stray fragments of old songs and ballads he had known in +his childhood returned to him with haunting persistence. It was, for +him, one of those sudden halts in life which we all experience,--an +instant,--when time and the world seem to stand still, as though to +permit us easy breathing; a brief space,--in which we are allowed to +stop and wonder awhile at the strange unaccountable force within us, +that enables us to stand with such calm, smiling audacity, on our +small pin's point of the present, between the wide dark gaps of past +and future; a small hush,--in which the gigantic engines of the +universe appear to revolve no more, and the immortal Soul of man +itself is subjected and over-ruled by supreme and eternal Thought. +Drifting away on those delicate imperceptible lines that lie between +reality and dreamland, the watcher of the midnight sun gave himself +up to the half painful, half delicious sense of being drawn in, +absorbed, and lost in infinite imaginings, when the intense +stillness around him was broken by the sound of a voice singing, a +full, rich contralto, that rang through the air with the clearness +of a golden bell. The sweet liquid notes were those of an old +Norwegian mountain melody, one of those wildly pathetic FOLK-SONGS +that seem to hold all the sorrow, wonder, wistfulness, and +indescribable yearning of a heart too full for other speech than +music. He started to his feet and looked around him for the singer. +There was no one visible. The amber streaks in the sky were leaping +into crimson flame; the Fjord glowed like the burning lake of +Dante's vision; one solitary sea-gull winged its graceful, noiseless +flight far above, its white pinions shimmering like jewels as it +crossed the radiance of the heavens. Other sign of animal life there +was none. Still the hidden voice rippled on in a stream of melody, +and the listener stood amazed and enchanted at the roundness and +distinctness of every note that fell from the lips of the unseen +vocalist. + +"A woman's voice," he thought; "but where is the woman?" + +Puzzled, he looked to the right and left, then out to the shining +Fjord, half expecting to see some fisher-maiden rowing along, and +singing as she rowed, but there was no sign of any living creature. +While he waited, the voice suddenly ceased, and the song was +replaced by the sharp grating of a keel on the beach. Turning in the +direction of this sound, he perceived a boat being pushed out by +invisible hands towards the water's edge from a rocky cave, that +jutted upon the Fjord, and, full of curiosity, he stepped towards +the arched entrance, when,--all suddenly and unexpectedly,--a girl +sprang out from the dark interior, and standing erect in her boat, +faced the intruder. A girl of about nineteen, she seemed, taller +than most women,--with a magnificent uncovered mass of hair, the +color of the midnight sunshine, tumbled over her shoulders, and +flashing against her flushed cheeks and dazzlingly fair skin. Her +deep blue eyes had an astonished and certainly indignant expression +in them, while he, utterly unprepared for such a vision of +loveliness at such a time and in such a place, was for a moment +taken aback and at a loss for words. Recovering his habitual self- +possession quickly, however, he raised his hat, and, pointing to the +boat, which was more than half way out of the cavern, said simply-- + +"May I assist you?" + +She was silent, eyeing him with a keen glance which had something in +it of disfavor and suspicion. + +"I suppose she doesn't understand English," he thought, "and I can't +speak a word of Norwegian. I must talk by signs." + +And forthwith he went through a labored pantomime of gesture, +sufficiently ludicrous in itself, yet at the same time expressive of +his meaning. The girl broke into a laugh--a laugh of sweet amusement +which brought a thousand new sparkles of light into her lovely eyes. + +"That is very well done," she observed graciously, speaking English +with something of a foreign accent. "Even the Lapps would understand +you, and they are very stupid, poor things!" + + Half vexed by her laughter, and feeling that he was somehow an +object of ridicule to this tall, bright-haired maiden, he ceased his +pantomimic gestures abruptly and stood looking at her with a slight +flush of embarrassment on his features. + +"I know your language," she resumed quietly, after a brief pause, in +which she had apparently considered the stranger's appearance and +general bearing. "It was rude of me not to have answered you at +once. You can help me if you will. The keel has caught among the +pebbles, but we can easily move it between us." And, jumping lightly +out of her boat, she grasped its edge firmly with her strong white +hands, exclaiming gaily, as she did so, "Push!" + +Thus adjured, he lost no time in complying with her request, and, +using his great strength and muscular force to good purpose, the +light little craft was soon well in the water, swaying to and fro as +though with impatience to be gone. The girl sprang to her seat, +discarding his eagerly proffered assistance, and, taking both oars, +laid them in their respective rowlocks, and seemed about to start, +when she paused and asked abruptly-- + +"Are you a sailor?" + +He smiled. "Not I! Do I remind you of one?" + +"You are strong, and you manage a boat as though you were accustomed +to the work. Also you look as if you had been at sea." + +"Rightly guessed!" he replied, still smiling; "I certainly HAVE been +at sea; I have been coasting all about your lovely land. My yacht +went across to Seiland this afternoon." + +She regarded him more intently, and observed, with the critical eye +of a woman, the refined taste displayed in his dress, from the very +cut of his loose travelling coat, to the luxurious rug of fine fox- +shins, that lay so carelessly cast on the shore at a little distance +from him. Then she gave a gesture of hauteur and half-contempt. + +"You have a yacht? Oh! then you are a gentleman. You do nothing for +your living?" + +"Nothing, indeed!" and he shrugged his shoulders with a mingled air +of weariness and self-pity, "except one thing--I live!" + +"Is that hard work?" she inquired wonderingly. + +"Very." + +They were silent then, and the girl's face grew serious as she +rested on her oars, and still surveyed him with a straight, candid +gaze, that, though earnest and penetrating, had nothing of boldness +in it. It was the look of one in whose past there were no secrets-- +the look of a child who is satisfied with the present and takes no +thought for the future. Few women look so after they have entered +their teens. Social artifice, affectation, and the insatiate vanity +that modern life encourages in the feminine nature--all these things +soon do away with the pellucid clearness and steadfastness of the +eye--the beautiful, true, untamed expression, which, though so rare, +is, when seen infinitely more bewitching than all the bright arrows +of coquetry and sparkling invitation that flash from the glances of +well-bred society dames, who have taken care to educate their eyes +if not their hearts. This girl was evidently not trained properly; +had she been so, she would have dropped a curtain over those wide, +bright windows of her soul; she would have remembered that she was +alone with a strange man at midnight--at midnight, though the sun +shone; she would have simpered and feigned embarrassment, even if +she could not feel it. As it happened, she did nothing of the kind, +only her expression softened and became more wistful and earnest, +and when she spoke again her voice was mellow with a suave +gentleness, that had something in it of compassion. + +"If you do not love life itself," she said, "you love the beautiful +things of life, do you not? See yonder! There is what we call the +meeting of night and morning. One is glad to be alive at such a +moment. Look quickly! The light soon fades." + +She pointed towards the east. Her companion gazed in that direction, +and uttered an exclamation,--almost a shout,--of wonder and +admiration. Within the space of the past few minutes the aspect of +the heavens had completely changed. The burning scarlet and violet +hues had all melted into a transparent yet brilliant shade of pale +mauve,--as delicate as the inner tint of a lilac blossom,--and +across this stretched two wing-shaped gossamer clouds of watery +green, fringed with soft primrose. Between these cloud-wings, as +opaline in lustre as those of a dragon-fly, the face of the sun +shone like a shield of polished gold, while his rays, piercing +spear-like through the varied tints of emerald, brought an unearthly +radiance over the landscape--a lustre as though the moon were, in +some strange way, battling with the sun for mastery over the visible +universe though, looking southward, she could dimly be perceived, +the ghost of herself--a poor, fainting, pallid goddess,--a perishing +Diana. + +Bringing his glance down from the skies, the young man turned it to +the face of the maiden near him, and was startled at her marvellous +beauty--beauty now heightened by the effect of the changeful colors +that played around her. The very boat in which she sat glittered +with a bronze-like, metallic brightness as it heaved gently to and +fro on the silvery green water; the midnight sunshine bathed the +falling glory of her long hair, till each thick tress, each +clustering curl, appeared to emit an amber spark of light. The +strange, weird effect of the sky seemed to have stolen into her +eyes, making them shine with witch-like brilliancy,--the varied +radiance flashing about her brought into strong relief the pureness +of her profile, drawing as with a fine pencil the outlines of her +noble forehead, sweet mouth, and rounded chin. It touched the +scarlet of her bodice, and brightened the quaint old silver clasps +she wore at her waist and throat, till she seemed no longer an +earthly being, but more like some fair wondering sprite from the +legendary Norse kingdom of Alfheim, the "abode of the Luminous +Genii." + +She was gazing upwards,--heavenwards,--and her expression was one of +rapt and almost devotional intensity. Thus she remained for some +moments, motionless as the picture of an expectant angel painted by +Raffaele or Correggio; then reluctantly and with a deep sigh she +turned her eyes towards earth again. In so doing she met the fixed +and too visibly admiring gaze of her companion. She started, and a +wave of vivid color flushed her cheeks. Quickly recovering her +serenity, however, she saluted him slightly, and, moving her oars in +unison, was on the point of departure. + +Stirred by an impulse he could not resist, he laid one hand +detainingly on the rim of her boat. + +"Are you going now?" he asked. + +She raised her eyebrows in some little surprise and smiled. + +"Going?" she repeated. "Why, yes. I shall be late in getting home as +it is." + +"Stop a moment," he said eagerly, feeling that he could not let this +beautiful creature leave him as utterly as a midsummer night's dream +without some clue as to her origin and destination. "Will you not +tell me your name?" + +She drew herself erect with a look of indignation. + +"Sir, I do not know you. The maidens of Norway do not give their +names to strangers." + +"Pardon me," he replied, somewhat abashed. "I mean no offense. We +have watched the midnight sun together, and--and--I thought--" + +He paused, feeling very foolish, and unable to conclude his +sentence. + +She looked at him demurely from under her long, curling lashes. + +"You will often find a peasant girl on the shores of the Altenfjord +watching the midnight sun at the same time as yourself," she said, +and there was a suspicion of laughter in her voice. "It is not +unusual. It is not even necessary that you should remember so little +a thing." + +"Necessary or not, I shall never forget it," he said with sudden +impetuosity. "You are no peasant! Come; if I give you my name will +you still deny me yours?" + +Her delicate brows drew together in a frown of haughty and decided +refusal. "No names please my ears save those that are familiar," she +said, with intense coldness. "We shall not meet again. Farewell!" + +And without further word or look, she leaned gracefully to the oars, +and pulling with a long, steady, resolute stroke, the little boat +darted away as lightly and swiftly as a skimming swallow out on the +shimmering water, he stood gazing after it till it became a distant +speck sparkling like a diamond in the light of sky and wave, and +when he could no more watch it with unassisted eyes, he took up his +field glass and followed its course attentively. He saw it cutting +along as straightly as an arrow, then suddenly it dipped round to +the westward, apparently making straight for some shelving rocks, +that projected far into the Fjord. It reached them; it grew less and +less--it disappeared. At the same time the lustre of the heavens +gave way to a pale pearl-like uniform grey tint, that stretched far +and wide, folding up as in a mantle all the regal luxury of the Sun- +king's palace. The subtle odor and delicate chill of the coming dawn +stole freshly across the water. A light haze rose and obscured the +opposite islands. Something of the tender melancholy of autumn, +though it was late June, toned down the aspect of the before +brilliant landscape. A lark rose swiftly from its nest in an +adjacent meadow, and, soaring higher and higher, poured from its +tiny throat a cascade of delicious melody. The midnight sun no +longer shone at midnight; his face smiled with a sobered serenity +through the faint early mists of approaching morning. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +"Viens donc--je te chanterai des chansons que les esprits des +cimetieres m'ont apprises!" + + MATURIN + + +"Baffled!" he exclaimed, with a slight vexed laugh, as the boat +vanished from his sight. "By a woman, too! Who would have thought +it?" + +Who would have thought it, indeed! Sir Philip Bruce-Errington, +Baronet, the wealthy and desirable parti for whom many match-making +mothers had stood knee-deep in the chilly though sparkling waters of +society, ardently plying rod and line with patient persistence, +vainly hoping to secure him as a husband for one of their highly +proper and passionless daughters,--he, the admired, long-sought- +after "eligible," was suddenly rebuffed, flouted--by whom? A stray +princess, or a peasant. He vaguely wondered, as he lit a cigar and +strolled up and down on the shore, meditating, with a puzzled, +almost annoyed expression on his handsome features. He was not +accustomed to slights of any kind, however trifling; his position +being commanding and enviable enough to attract flattery and +friendship from most people. He was the only son of a baronet as +renowned for eccentricity as for wealth. He had been the spoilt +darling of his mother; and now, both his parents being dead, he was +alone in the world, heir to his father's revenues, and entire master +of his own actions. And as part of the penalty he had to pay for +being rich and good-looking to boot, he was so much run after by +women that he found it hard to understand the haughty indifference +with which he had just been treated by one of the most fair, if not +the fairest of her sex. He was piqued, and his amour propre was +wounded. + +"I'm sure my question was harmless enough," he mused, half crossly, +"She might have answered it." + +He glanced out impatiently over the Fjord. There was no sign of his +returning yacht as yet. + +"What a time those fellows are!" he said to himself. "If the pilot +were not on board, I should begin to think they had run the Eulalie +aground." + +He finished his cigar and threw the end of it into the water; then +he stood moodily watching the ripples as they rolled softly up and +caressed the shining brown shore at his feet, thinking all the while +of that strange girl, so wonderfully lovely in face and form, so +graceful and proud of bearing, with her great blue eyes and masses +of dusky gold hair. + +His meeting with her was a sort of adventure in its way--the first +of the kind he had had for some time. He was subject to fits of +weariness or caprice, and it was in one of these that he had +suddenly left London in the height of the season, and had started +for Norway on a yachting cruise with three chosen companions, one of +whom, George Lorimer, once an Oxford fellow-student, was now his +"chum"--the Pythias to his Damon, the fidus Achates of his closest +confidence. Through the unexpected wakening up of energy in the +latter young gentleman, who was usually of a most sleepy and +indolent disposition, he happened to be quite alone on this +particular occasion, though, as a general rule, he was accompanied +in his rambles by one if not all three of his friends. Utter +solitude was with him a rare occurrence, and his present experience +of it had chanced in this wise. Lorimer the languid, Lorimer the +lazy, Lorimer who had remained blandly unmoved and drowsy through +all the magnificent panorama of the Norwegian coast, including the +Sogne Fjord and the toppling peaks of the Justedal glaciers; Lorimer +who had slept peacefully in a hammock on deck, even while the yacht +was passing under the looming splendors of Melsnipa; Lorimer, now +that he had arrived at the Alton Fjord, then at its loveliest in the +full glory of the continuous sunshine, developed a new turn of mind, +and began to show sudden and abnormal interest in the scenery. In +this humor he expressed his desire to "take a sight" of the midnight +sun from the island of Seiland, and also declared his resolve to try +the nearly impossible ascent of the great Jedke glacier. + +Errington laughed at the idea. "Don't tell me," he said, "that you +are going in for climbing. And do you suppose I believe that you are +interested--you of all people--in the heavenly bodies?" + +"Why not?" asked Lorimer, with a candid smile. "I'm not in the least +interested in earthly bodies, except my own. The sun's a jolly +fellow. I sympathize with him in his present condition. He's in his +cups--that's what's the matter--and he can't be persuaded to go to +bed. I know his feelings perfectly; and I want to survey his +gloriously inebriated face from another point of view. Don't laugh, +Phil; I'm in earnest! And I really have quite a curiosity to try my +skill in amateur mountaineering. Jedke's the very place for a first +effort. It offers difficulties, and"--this with a slight yawn--"I +like to surmount difficulties; it's rather amusing." + +His mind was so evidently set upon the excursion, that Sir Philip +made no attempt to dissuade him from it, but excused himself from +accompanying the party on the plea that he wanted to finish a sketch +he had recently begun. So that when the Eulalie got up her steam, +weighed anchor, and swept gracefully away towards the coast of the +adjacent islands, her owner was left, at his desire, to the +seclusion of a quiet nook on the shore of the Altenfjord, where he +succeeded in making a bold and vivid picture of the scene before +him. The colors of the sky had, however, defied his palette, and +after one or two futile attempts to transfer to his canvas a few of +the gorgeous tints that illumed the landscape, he gave up the task +in despair, and resigned himself to the dolce far niente of absolute +enjoyment. From his half pleasing, half melancholy reverie the voice +of the unknown maiden had startled him, and now,--now she had left +him to resume it if he chose,--left him, in chill displeasure, with +a cold yet brilliant flash of something like scorn in her wonderful +eyes. + +Since her departure the scenery, in some unaccountable way, seemed +less attractive to him, the songs of the birds, who were all awake, +fell on inattentive ears; he was haunted by her face and voice, and +he was, moreover, a little out of humor with himself for having been +such a blunderer as to give her offense and thus leave an +unfavorable impression on her mind. + +"I suppose I WAS rude," he considered after a while. "She seemed to +think so, at any rate. By Jove! what a crushing look she gave me! A +peasant? Not she! If she had said she was an empress I shouldn't +have been much surprised. But a mere common peasant, with that regal +figure and those white hands! I don't believe it. Perhaps our pilot, +Valdemar, knows who she is; I must ask him." + +All at once he bethought himself of the cave whence she had emerged. +It was close at hand--a natural grotto, arched and apparently lofty. +He resolved to explore it. Glancing at his watch he saw it was not +yet one o'clock in the morning, yet the voice of the cuckoo called +shrilly from the neighboring hills, and a circling group of swallows +flitted around him, their lovely wings glistening like jewels in the +warm light of the ever-wakeful sun. Going to the entrance of the +cave, he looked in. It was formed of rough rock, hewn out by the +silent work of the water, and its floor was strewn thick with loose +pebbles and polished stones. Entering it, he was able to walk +upright for some few paces, then suddenly it seemed to shrink in +size and to become darker. The light from the opening gradually +narrowed into a slender stream too small for him to see clearly +where he was going, thereupon he struck a fusee. At first he could +observe no sign of human habitation, not even a rope, or chain, or +hook, to intimate that it was a customary shelter for a boat. The +fusee went out quickly, and he lit another. Looking more carefully +and closely about him, he perceived on a projecting shelf of rock, a +small antique lamp, Etruscan in shape, made of iron and wrought with +curious letters. There was oil in it, and a half-burnt wick; it had +evidently been recently used. He availed himself at once of this +useful adjunct to his explorations, and lighting it, was able by the +clear and steady flame it emitted, to see everything very +distinctly. Right before him was an uneven flight of steps leading +down to a closed door. + +He paused and listened attentively. There was no sound but the slow +lapping of the water near the entrance; within, the thickness of the +cavern walls shut out the gay carolling of the birds, and all the +cheerful noises of awakening nature. Silence, chillness, and partial +obscurity are depressing influences, and the warm blood flowing +through his veins, ran a trifle more slowly and coldly as he felt +the sort of uncomfortable eerie sensation which is experienced by +the jolliest and most careless traveller, when he first goes down to +the catacombs in Rome. A sort of damp, earthy shudder creeps through +the system, and a dreary feeling of general hopelessness benumbs the +faculties; a morbid state of body and mind which is only to be +remedied by a speedy return to the warm sunlight, and a draught of +generous wine. + +Sir Philip, however, held the antique lamp aloft, and descended the +clumsy steps cautiously, counting twenty steps in all, at the bottom +of which he found himself face to face with the closed door. It was +made of hard wood, so hard as to be almost like iron. It was black +with age, and covered with quaint carvings and inscriptions; but in +the middle, standing out in bold relief among the numberless Runic +figures and devices, was written in large well-cut letters the +word-- + +THELMA + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I have it! The girl's name, of course! +This is some private retreat of hers, I suppose,--a kind of boudoir +like my Lady Winsleigh's, only with rather a difference." + +And he laughed aloud, thinking of the dainty gold-satin hangings of +a certain room in a certain great mansion in Park Lane, where an +aristocratic and handsome lady-leader of fashion had as nearly made +love to him as it was possible for her to do without losing her +social dignity. His laugh was echoed back with a weird and hollow +sound, as though a hidden demon of the cave were mocking him, a +demon whose merriment was intense but also horrible. He heard the +unpleasant jeering repetition with a kind of careless admiration. + +"That echo would make a fortune in Faust, if it could be persuaded +to back up Mephistopheles with that truly fiendish, 'HA HA!'" he +said, resuming his examination of the name on the door. Then an odd +fancy seized him, and he called loudly-- + +"Thelma!" + +"Thelma!" shouted the echo. + +"Is that her name?" + +"Her name!" replied the echo. + +"I thought so!" And Philip laughed again, while the echo laughed +wildly in answer. "Just the sort of name to suit a Norwegian nymph +or goddess. THELMA is quaint and appropriate, and as far as I can +remember there's no rhyme to it in the English language. THELMA!" +And he lingered on the pronunciation of the strange word with a +curious sensation of pleasure. "There is something mysteriously +suggestive about the sound of it; like a chord of music played +softly in the distance. Now, can I get through this door, I wonder?" + +He pushed it gently. It yielded very slightly, and he tried again +and yet again. Finally, he put down the lamp and set his shoulder +against the wooden barrier with all his force. A dull creaking sound +rewarded his efforts, and inch by inch the huge door opened into +what at first appeared immeasurable darkness. Holding up the light +he looked in, and uttered a smothered exclamation. A sudden gust of +wind rushed from the sea through the passage and extinguished the +lamp, leaving him in profound gloom. Nothing daunted he sought his +fusee case; there was just one left in it. This he hastily struck, +and shielding the glow carefully with one hand, relit his lamp, and +stepped boldly into the mysterious grotto. + +The murmur of the wind and waves, like spirit-voices in unison, +followed him as he entered. He found himself in a spacious winding +corridor, that had evidently been hollowed out in the rocks and +fashioned by human hands. Its construction was after the ancient +Gothic method; but the wonder of the place consisted in the walls, +which were entirely covered with shells,--shells of every shape and +hue,--some delicate as rose-leaves, some rough and prickly, others +polished as ivory, some gleaming with a thousand irridescent colors, +others pure white as the foam on high billows. Many of them were +turned artistically in such a position as to show their inner sides +glistening with soft tints like the shades of fine silk or satin,-- +others glittered with the opaline sheen of mother-o'-pearl. All were +arranged in exquisite patterns, evidently copied from fixed +mathematical designs,--there were stars, crescents, roses, +sunflowers, hearts, crossed daggers, ships and implements of war, +all faithfully depicted with extraordinary neatness and care, as +though each particular emblem had served some special purpose. + +Sir Philip walked along very slowly, delighted with his discovery, +and,--pausing to examine each panel as he passed,--amused himself +with speculations as to the meaning of this beautiful cavern, so +fancifully yet skillfully decorated. + +"Some old place of worship, I suppose," he thought. "There must be +many such hidden in different parts of Norway. It has nothing to do +with the Christian faith, for among all these devices I don't +perceive a single cross." + +He was right. There were no crosses; but there were many designs of +the sun--the sun rising, the sun setting, the sun in full glory, +with all his rays embroidered round him in tiny shells, some of them +no bigger than a pin's head. "What a waste of time and labor," he +mused. "Who would undertake such a thing nowadays? Fancy the +patience and delicacy of finger required to fit all these shells in +their places! and they are embedded in strong mortar too, as if the +work were meant to be indestructible." + +Pull of pleased interest, he pursued his way, winding in and out +through different arches, all more or less richly ornamented, till +he came to a tall, round column, which seemingly supported the whole +gallery, for all the arches converged towards it. It was garlanded +from top to bottom with their roses and their leaves, all worked in +pink and lilac shells, interspersed with small pieces of shining +amber and polished malachite. The flicker of the lamp he carried, +made it glisten like a mass of jewel-work, and, absorbed in his +close examination of this unique specimen of ancient art, Sir Philip +did not at once perceive that another light beside his own glimmered +from out the furthest archway a little beyond him,--an opening that +led into some recess he had not as yet explored. A peculiar lustre +sparkling on one side of the shell-work however, at last attracted +his attention, and, glancing up quickly, he saw, to his surprise, +the reflection of a strange radiance, rosily tinted and brilliant. + +Turning in its direction, he paused, irresolute. Could there be some +one living in that furthest chamber to which the long passage he had +followed evidently led? some one who would perhaps resent his +intrusion as an impertinence? some eccentric artist or hermit who +had made the cave his home? Or was it perhaps a refuge for +smugglers? He listened anxiously. There was no sound. He waited a +minute or two, then boldly advanced, determined to solve the +mystery. + +This last archway was lower than any of those he had passed through, +and he was forced to take off his hat and stoop as he went under it. +When he raised his head he remained uncovered, for he saw at a +glance that the place was sacred. He was in the presence, not of +Life, but Death. The chamber in which he stood was square in form, +and more richly ornamented with shell-designs than any other portion +of the grotto he had seen, and facing the east was an altar hewn out +of the solid rock and studded thickly with amber, malachite and +mother-o'-pearl. It was covered With the incomprehensible emblems of +a bygone creed worked in most exquisite shell-patterns, but on it,-- +as though in solemn protest against the past,--stood a crucifix of +ebony and carved ivory, before which burned steadily a red lamp. + +The meaning of the mysterious light was thus explained, but what +chiefly interested Errington was the central object of the place,--a +coffin,--of rather a plain granite sarcophagus which was placed on +the floor lying from north to south. Upon it,--in strange contrast +to the sombre coldness of the stone,--reposed a large wreath of +poppies freshly gathered. The vivid scarlet of the flowers, the +gleam of the shining shells on the walls, the mournful figure of the +ivory Christ stretched on the cross among all those pagan emblems,-- +the intense silence broken only by the slow drip, drip of water +trickling somewhere behind the cavern,--and more than these outward +things,--his own impressive conviction that he was with the imperial +Dead--imperial because past the sway of empire--all made a powerful +impression on his mind. Overcoming by degrees his first sensations +of awe, he approached the sarcophagus and examined it. It was +solidly closed and mortared all round, so that it might have been +one compact coffin-shaped block of stone so far as its outward +appearance testified. Stooping more closely, however, to look at the +brilliant poppy-wreath, he started back with a slight exclamation. +Cut deeply in the hard granite he read for the second time that odd +name-- + +THELMA + +It belonged to some one dead, then--not to the lovely living woman +who had so lately confronted him in the burning glow of the midnight +sun? He felt dismayed at his unthinking precipitation,--he had, in +his fancy, actually associated HER, so full of radiant health and +beauty, with what was probably a mouldering corpse in that +hermetically sealed tenement of stone! This idea was unpleasant, and +jarred upon his feelings. Surely she, that golden-haired nymph of +the Fjord, had nothing to do with death! He had evidently found his +way into some ancient tomb. "Thelma" might be the name or title of +some long-departed queen or princess of Norway, yet, if so, how came +the crucifix there,--the red lamp, the flowers? + +He lingered, looking curiously about him, as if he fancied the +shell-embroidered walls might whisper some answer to his thoughts. +The silence offered no suggestions. The plaintive figure of the +tortured Christ suspended on the cross maintained an immovable watch +over all things, and there was a subtle, faint odor floating about +as of crushed spices or herbs. While he still stood there absorbed +in perplexed conjectures, he became oppressed by want of air. The +red hue of the poppy-wreath mingled with the softer glow of the lamp +on the altar,--the moist glitter of the shells and polished pebbles, +seemed to dazzle and confuse his eyes. He felt dizzy and faint--and +hastily made his way out of that close death-chamber into the +passage, where he leaned for a few minutes against the great central +column to recover himself. A brisk breath of wind from the Fjord +came careering through the gallery, and blew coldly upon his +forehead. Refreshed by it, he rapidly overcame the sensation of +giddiness, and began to retrace his steps through the winding +arches, thinking with some satisfaction as he went, what a romantic +incident he would have to relate to Lorimer and his other friends, +when a sudden glare of light illumined the passage, and he was +brought to an abrupt standstill by the sound of a wild "Halloo!" The +light vanished; it reappeared. It vanished again, and again +appeared, flinging a strong flare upon the shell-worked walls as it +approached. Again the fierce "Halloo!" resounded through the hollow +cavities of the subterranean temple, and he remained motionless, +waiting for an explanation of this unlooked-for turn to the events +of the morning. + +He had plenty of physical courage, and the idea of any addition to +his adventure rather pleased him than otherwise. Still, with all his +bravery, he recoiled a little when he first caught sight of the +extraordinary being that emerged from the darkness--a wild, +distorted figure that ran towards him with its head downwards, +bearing aloft in one skinny hand a smoking pine-torch, from which +the sparks flew like so many fireflies. This uncanny personage, +wearing the semblance of man, came within two paces of Errington +before perceiving him; then, stopping short in his headlong career, +the creature flourished his torch and uttered a defiant yell. + +Philip surveyed him coolly and without alarm, though so weird an +object might well have aroused a pardonable distrust, and even +timidity. He saw a misshapen dwarf, not quite four feet high, with +large, ungainly limbs out of all proportion to his head, which was +small and compact. His features were of almost feminine fineness, +and from under his shaggy brows gleamed a restless pair of large, +full, wild blue eyes. His thick, rough flaxen hair was long and +curly, and hung in disordered profusion over his deformed shoulders. +His dress was of reindeer skin, very fancifully cut, and ornamented +with beads of different colors,--and twisted about him as though in +an effort to be artistic, was a long strip of bright scarlet woollen +material, which showed up the extreme pallor and ill-health of the +meagre countenance, and the brilliancy of the eyes that now sparkled +with rage as they met those of Errington. He, from his superior +height, glanced down with pity on the unfortunate creature, whom he +at once took to be the actual owner of the cave he had explored. +Uncertain what to do, whether to speak or remain silent, he moved +slightly as though to pass on; but the shock-headed dwarf leaped +lightly in his way, and, planting himself firmly before him, +shrieked some unintelligible threat, of which Errington could only +make out the last words, "Nifleheim" and "Nastrond" + +"I believe he is commending me to the old Norwegian inferno," +thought the young baronet with a smile, amused at the little man's +evident excitement. "Very polite of him, I'm sure! But, after all, I +had no business here. I'd better apologize." And forthwith he began +to speak in the simplest English words he could choose, taking care +to pronounce them very slowly and distinctly. + +"I cannot understand you, my good sir; but I see you are angry. I +came here by accident. I am going away now at once." + +His explanation had a strange effect. The dwarf drew nearer, twirled +himself rapidly round three times as though waltzing; then, holding +his torch a little to one side, turned up his thin, pale +countenance, and, fixing his gaze on Sir Philip, studied every +feature of his face with absorbing interest. Then he burst into a +violent fit of laughter. + +"At last--at last?" he cried in fluent English. "Going now? Going, +you say? Never! never! You will never go away any more. No, not +without something stolen! The dead have summoned you here! Their +white bony fingers have dragged you across the deep! Did you not +hear their voices, cold and hollow as the winter wind, calling, +calling you, and saying, 'Come, come, proud robber, from over the +far seas; come and gather the beautiful rose of the northern +forest'? Yes, Yes! You have obeyed the dead--the dead who feign +sleep, but are ever wakeful;--you have come as a thief in the golden +midnight, and the thing you seek is the life of Sigurd! Yes--yes! it +is true. The spirit cannot lie. You must kill, you must steal! See +how the blood drips, drop by drop, from the heart of Sigurd! And the +jewel you steal--ah, what a jewel!--you shall not find such another +in Norway!" + +His excited voice sank by degrees to a plaintive and forlorn +whisper, and dropping his torch with a gesture of despair on the +ground, he looked at it burning, with an air of mournful and utter +desolation. Profoundly touched, as he immediately understood the +condition of his companion's wandering wits, Errington spoke to him +soothingly. + +"You mistake me," he said in gentle accents; "I would not steal +anything from you, nor have I come to kill you. See," and he held +out his hand, "I wouldn't harm you for the world. I didn't know this +cave belonged to you. Forgive me for having entered it. I am going +to rejoin my friends. Good-bye!" + +The strange, half-crazy creature touched his outstretched hand +timidly, and with a sort of appeal. + +"Good-bye, good-bye!" he muttered. "That is what they all say,--even +the dead,--good-bye; but they never go--never, never! You cannot be +different to the rest. And you do not wish to hurt poor Sigurd?" + +"Certainly not, if YOU are Sigurd," said Philip, half laughing; "I +should be very sorry to hurt you." + +"You are SURE?" he persisted, with a sort of obstinate eagerness. +"You have eyes which tell truths; but there are other things which +are truer than eyes--things in the air, in the grass, in the waves, +and they talk very strangely of you. I know you, of course! I knew +you ages ago--long before I saw you dead on the field of battle, and +the black-haired Valkyrie galloped with you to Valhalla! Yes; I knew +you long before that, and you knew me; for I was your King, and you +were my vassal, wild and rebellious--not the proud, rich Englishman +you are to-day." + +Errington startled. How could this Sigurd, as he called himself, be +aware of either his wealth or nationality? + +The dwarf observed his movement of surprise with a cunning smile. + +"Sigurd is wise,--Sigurd is brave! Who shall deceive him? He knows +you well; he will always know you. The old gods teach Sigurd all his +wisdom--the gods of the sea and the wind--the sleepy gods that lie +in the hearts of the flowers--the small spirits that sit in shells +and sing all day and all night." He paused, and his eyes filled with +a wistful look of attention. He drew closer. + +"Come," he said earnestly, "come, you must listen to my music; +perhaps you can tell me what it means." + +He picked up his smouldering torch and held it aloft again; then, +beckoning Errington to follow him, he led the way to a small grotto, +cut deeply into the wall of the cavern. Here there were no shell +patterns. Little green ferns grew thickly out of the stone crevices, +and a minute runlet of water trickled slowly down from above, +freshening the delicate frondage as it fell. With quick, agile +fingers he removed a loose stone from this aperture, and as he did +so, a low shuddering wail resounded through the arches--a melancholy +moan that rose and sank, and rose again in weird, sorrowful minor +echoes. + +"Hear her," murmured Sigurd plaintively. "She is always complaining; +it is a pity she cannot rest! She is a spirit, you know. I have +often asked her what troubles her, but she will not tell me; she +only weeps!" + +His companion looked at him compassionately. The sound that so +affected his disordered imagination was nothing but the wind blowing +through the narrow hole formed by the removal of the stone; but it +was useless to explain this simple fact to one in his condition. + +"Tell me," and Sir Philip spoke very gently, "is this your home?" + +The dwarf surveyed him almost scornfully. "MY home!" he echoed. "My +home is everywhere--on the mountains, in the forests, on the black +rocks and barren shores! My soul lives between the sun and the sea; +my heart is with Thelma!" + +Thelma! Here was perhaps a clue to the mystery. + +"Who is Thelma?" asked Errington somewhat hurriedly. + +Sigurd broke into violent and derisive laughter. "Do you think I +will tell YOU?" he cried loudly. "YOU,--one of that strong, cruel +race who must conquer all they see; who covet everything fair under +heaven, and will buy it, even at the cost of blood and tears! Do you +think I will unlock the door of my treasure to YOU? No, no; +besides," and his voice sank lower, "what should you do with Thelma? +She is dead!" + +And, as if possessed by a sudden access of frenzy, he brandished his +pine-torch wildly above his head till it showered a rain of bright +sparks above him, and exclaimed furiously--"Away, away, and trouble +me not! The days are not yet fulfilled,--the time is not yet ripe. +Why seek to hasten my end? Away, away, I tell you! Leave me in +peace! I will die when Thelma bids me; but not till then!" + +And he rushed down the long gallery and disappeared in the furthest +chamber, where he gave vent to a sort of long, sobbing cry, which +rang dolefully through the cavern and then subsided into utter +silence. + +Feeling as if he were in a chaotic dream, Errington pursued his +interrupted course through the winding passages with a bewildered +and wondering mind. What strange place had he inadvertently lighted +on? and who were the still stranger beings in connection with it? +First the beautiful girl herself; next the mysterious coffin, hidden +in its fanciful shell temple; and now this deformed madman, with the +pale face and fine eyes; whose utterances, though incoherent, +savored somewhat of poesy and prophecy. And what spell was attached +to that name of Thelma? The more he thought of his morning's +adventure, the more puzzled he became. As a rule, he believed more +in the commonplace than in the romantic--most people do. But truth +to tell, romance is far more common than the commonplace. There are +few who have not, at one time or other of their lives, had some +strange or tragic episode woven into the tissue of their every-day +existence; and it would be difficult to find one person even among +humdrum individuals, who, from birth to death, has experienced +nothing out of the common. + +Errington generally dismissed all tales of adventure as mere +exaggerations of heated fancy; and, had he read in some book, of a +respectable nineteenth-century yachtsman having such an interview +with a madman in a sea-cavern, he would have laughed at the affair +as an utter improbability, though he could not have explained why he +considered it improbable. But now it had occurred to himself, he was +both surprised and amused at the whole circumstance; moreover, he +was sufficiently interested and carious to be desirous of sifting +the matter to its foundation. + +It was, however, somewhat of a relief to him when he again readied +the outer cavern. He replaced the lamp on the shelf where he had +found it, and stepped once more into the brilliant light of the very +early dawn, which then had all the splendor of full morning. There +was a deliciously balmy wind, the blue sky was musical with a chorus +of larks, and every breath of air that waved aside the long grass +sent forth a thousand odors from hidden beds of wild thyme and bog- +myrtle. + +He perceived the Eulalie at anchor in her old place on the Fjord; +she had returned while he was absent on his explorations. Gathering +together his rug and painting materials, he blew a whistle sharply +three times; he was answered from the yacht, and presently a boat, +manned by a couple of sailors, came skimming over the water towards +him. It soon reached the shore, and, entering it, he was speedily +rowed away from the scene of his morning's experience back to his +floating palace, where, as yet, none of his friends were stirring. + +"How about Jedke?" he inquired of one of his men. "Did they climb +it?" + +A slow grin overspread the sailor's brown face. + +"Lord bless you, no, sir! Mr. Lorimer, he just looked at it and sat +down in the shade; the other gentleman played pitch-and-toss with +pebbles. They was main hungry too, and ate a mighty sight of 'am and +pickles. Then they came on board and all turned in at once." + +Errington laughed. He was amused at the utter failure of Lorimer's +recent sudden energy, but not surprised. His thoughts were, however, +busied with something else, and he next asked--"Where's our pilot?" + +"Valdemar Svensen, sir? He went down to his bunk as soon as we +anchored, for a snooze, he said." + +"All right. If he comes on deck before I do, just tell him not to go +ashore for anything till I see him. I want to speak to him after +breakfast." + +"Ay, ay, sir." + +Whereupon Sir Philip descended to his private cabin. He drew the +blind at the port-hole to shut out the dazzling sunlight, for it was +nearly three o'clock in the morning, and quickly undressing, he +flung himself into his berth with a slight, not altogether +unpleasant, feeling of exhaustion. To the last, as his eyes closed +drowsily, he seemed to hear the slow drip, drip of the water behind +the rocky cavern, and the desolate cry of the incomprehensible +Sigurd, while through these sounds that mingled with the gurgle of +little waves lapping against the sides of the Eulalie, the name of +"Thelma" murmured itself in his ears till slumber drowned his senses +in oblivion. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + + "Hast any mortal name, + Fit appellation for this dazzling frame, + Or friends or kinsfolk on the citied earth?" + + KEATS. + +"This is positively absurd," murmured Lorimer, in mildly injured +tones, seven hours later, as he sat on the edge of his berth, +surveying Errington, who, fully dressed, and in the highest spirits, +had burst in to upbraid him for his laziness while he was yet but +scantily attired. "I tell you, my good fellow, there are some things +which the utmost stretch of friendship will NOT stand. Here am I in +shirt and trousers with only one sock on, and you dare to say you +have had an adventure! Why, if you had cut a piece out of the sun, +you ought to wait till a man is shaved before mentioning it." + +"Don't be snappish, old boy!" laughed Errington gaily. "Put on that +other sock and listen. I don't want to tell those other fellows just +yet, they might go making inquiries about her--" + +"Oh, there is a 'her' in the case, is there?" said Lorimer, opening +his eyes rather widely. "Well, Phil! I thought you had had enough, +and something too much, of women." + +"This is not a woman!" declared Philip with heat and eagerness, "at +least not the sort of woman _I_ have ever known! This is a forest- +empress, sea-goddess, or sun-angel! I don't know WHAT she is, upon +my life!" + +Lorimer regarded him with an air of reproachful offense. + +"Don't go on--please don't!" he implored. "I can't stand it--I +really can't! Incipient verse-mania is too much for me. Forest- +empress, sea-goddess, sun-angel--by Jove! what next? You are +evidently in a very bad way. If I remember rightly, you had a flask +of that old green Chartreuse with you. Ah! that accounts for it! +Nice stuff, but a little too strong." + +Errington laughed, and, unabashed by his friend's raillery, +proceeded to relate with much vivacity and graphic fervor the +occurrences of the morning. Lorimer listened patiently with a +forbearing smile on his open, ruddy countenance. When he had heard +everything he looked up and inquired calmly-- + +"This is not a yarn, is it?" + +"A yarn!" exclaimed Philip. "Do you think I would invent such a +thing?" + +"Can't say," returned Lorimer imperturbably. "You are quite capable +of it. It's a very creditable crammer, due to Chartreuse. Might have +been designed by Victor Hugo; it's in his style. Scene, Norway-- +midnight. Mysterious maiden steals out of a cave and glides away in +a boat over the water; man, the hero, goes into cave, finds a stone +coffin, says--'Qu'est-ce que c'est? Dieu! C'est la mort!' Spectacle +affreux! Staggers back perspiring; meets mad dwarf with torch; mad +dwarf talks a good deal--mad people always do,--then yells and runs +away. Man comes out of cave and--and--goes home to astonish his +friends; one of them won't be astonished,--that's me!" + +"I don't care," said Errington. "It's a true story for all that. +Only, I say, don't talk of it before the others; let's keep our own +counsel--" + +"No poachers allowed on the Sun-Angel Manor!" interrupted Lorimer +gravely. Philip went on without heeding him. + +"I'll question Valdemar Svensen after breakfast. He knows everybody +about here. Come and have a smoke on deck when I give you the sign, +and we'll cross-examine him." + +Lorimer still looked incredulous. "What's the good of it?" he +inquired languidly. "Even if it's all true you had much better leave +this goddess, or whatever you call her, alone, especially if she has +any mad connections. What do YOU want with her?" + +"Nothing!" declared Errington, though hiss color heightened. +"Nothing, I assure you! It's just a matter of curiosity with me. I +should like to know who she is--that's all! The affair won't go any +further." + +"How do you know?" and Lorimer began to brush his stiff curly hair +with a sort of vicious vigor. "How can you tell? I'm not a +spiritualist, nor any sort of a humbug at all, I hope, but I +sometimes indulge in presentiments. Before we started on this +cruise, I was haunted by that dismal old ballad of Sir Patrick +Spens--" + + 'The King's daughter of Norroway + Tis thou maun bring her hame!' + +"And here you have found her, or so it appears. What's to come of +it, I wonder?" + +"Nothing's to come of it; nothing WILL come of it!" laughed Philip. +"As I told you, she said she was a peasant. There's the breakfast- +bell! Make haste, old boy, I'm as hungry as a hunter!" + +And he left his friend to finish dressing, and entered the saloon, +where he greeted his two other companions, Alec, or, as he was +oftener called, Sandy Macfarlane, and Pierre Duprez; the former an +Oxford student,--the latter a young fellow whose acquaintance he had +made in Paris, and with whom he had kept up a constant and friendly +intercourse. A greater contrast than these two presented could +scarcely be imagined. Macfarlane was tall and ungainly, with large +loose joints that seemed to protrude angularly out of him in every +direction,--Duprez was short, slight and wiry, with a dapper and by +no means ungraceful figure. The one had formal gauche manners, a +never-to-be-eradicated Glasgow accent, and a slow, infinitely +tedious method of expressing himself,--the other was full of +restless movement and pantomimic gesture, and being proud of his +English, plunged into that language recklessly, making it curiously +light and flippant, though picturesque, as he went. Macfarlane was +destined to become a shining light of the established Church of +Scotland, and therefore took life very seriously,--Duprez was the +spoilt only child of an eminent French banker, and had very little +to do but enjoy himself, and that he did most thoroughly, without +any calculation or care for the future. On all points of taste and +opinion they differed widely; but there was no doubt about their +both being good-hearted fellows, without any affectation of abnormal +vice or virtue. + +"So you did not climb Jedke after all!" remarked Errington +laughingly, as they seated themselves at the breakfast table. + +"My friend, what would you!" cried Duprez. "I have not said that I +will climb it; no! I never say that I will do anything, because I'm +not sure of myself. How can I be? It is that cher enfant, Lorimer, +that said such brave words! See!. . . we arrive; we behold the +shore--all black, great, vast!. . . rocks like needles, and, higher +than all, this most fierce Jedke--bah! what a name!--straight as the +spire of a cathedral. One must be a fly to crawl up it, and we, we +are not flies--ma foi! no! Lorimer, he laugh, he yawn--so! He say, +'not for me to-day; I very much thank you!' And then, we watch the +sun. Ah! that was grand, glorious, beautiful!" And Duprez kissed the +tips of his fingers in ecstacy. + +"What did YOU think about it, Sandy?" asked Sir Philip. + + "I didna think much," responded Macfarlane, shortly. "It's no sae +grand a sight as a sunset in Skye. And it's an uncanny business to +see the sun losin' a' his poonctooality, and remainin' stock still, +as it were, when it's his plain duty to set below the horizon. +Mysel', I think it's been fair over-rated. It's unnatural an' oot o' +the common, say what ye like." + +"Of course it is," agreed Lorimer, who just then sauntered in from +his cabin. "Nature IS most unnatural. I always thought so. Tea for +me, Phil, please; coffee wakes me up too suddenly. I say, what's the +programme to-day?" + +"Fishing in the Alten," answered Errington promptly. + +"That suits me perfectly," said Lorimer, as he leisurely sipped his +tea. "I'm an excellent fisher. I hold the line and generally forget +to bait it. Then,--while it trails harmlessly in the water, I doze; +thus both the fish and I are happy." + +"And this evening," went on Errington, "we must return the +minister's call. He's been to the yacht twice. We're bound to go out +of common politeness." + +"Spare us, good Lord!" groaned Lorimer. + +"What a delightfully fat man is that good religious!" cried Duprez. +"A living proof of the healthiness of Norway!" + +"He's not a native," put in Macfarlane; "he's frae Yorkshire. He's +only been a matter of three months here, filling the place o' the +settled meenister who's awa' for a change of air." + +"He's a precious specimen of a humbug, anyhow," sighed Lorimer +drearily. "However, I'll be civil to him as long as he doesn't ask +me to hear him preach. At that suggestion I'll fight him. He's soft +enough to bruise easily." + +"Ye're just too lazy to fight onybody," declared Macfarlane. + +Lorimer smiled sweetly. "Thanks, awfully! I dare say you're right. +I've never found it worth while as yet to exert myself in any +particular direction. No one has asked me to exert myself; no one +wants me to exert myself; therefore, why should I?" + +"Don't ye want to get on in the world?" asked Macfarlane, almost +brusquely. + +"Dear me, no! What an exhausting idea! Get on in the world--what +for? I have five hundred a year, and when my mother goes over to the +majority (long distant be that day, for I'm very fond of the dear +old lady), I shall have five thousand--more than enough to satisfy +any sane man who doesn't want to speculate on the Stock Exchange. +YOUR case, my good Mac, is different. You will be a celebrated +Scotch divine. You will preach to a crowd of pious numskulls about +predestination, and so forth. You will be stump-orator for the +securing of seats in paradise. Now, now, keep calm!--don't mind me. +It's only a figure of speech! And the numskulls will call you a +'rare powerful rousin' preacher'--isn't that the way they go on? and +when you die--for die you must, most unfortunately--they will give +you a three-cornered block of granite (if they can make up their +minds to part with the necessary bawbees) with your name prettily +engraved thereon. That's all very nice; it suits some people. It +wouldn't suit me." + +"What WOULD suit you?" queried Errington. "You find everything more +or less of a bore." + +"Ah, my good little boy!" broke in Duprez. "Paris is the place for +you. You should live in Paris. Of that you would never fatigue +yourself." + +"Too much absinthe, secret murder and suicidal mania," returned +Lorimer, meditatively. "That was a neat idea about the coffins +though. I never hoped to dine off a coffin." + +"Ah! you mean the Taverne de l'Enfer?" exclaimed Duprez. "Yes; the +divine waitresses wore winding sheets, and the wine was served in +imitation skulls. Excellent! I remember; the tables were shaped like +coffins." + +"Gude Lord Almighty!" piously murmured Macfarlane. "What a fearsome +sicht!" + +As he pronounced these words with an unusually marked accent, Duprez +looked inquiring. + +"What does our Macfarlane say?" + +"He says it must have been a 'fearsome sicht,'" repeated Lorimer, +with even a stronger accent than Sanby's own, "which, mon cher +Pierre, means all the horrors in your language; affreux, +epouvantable, navrant--anything you like, that is sufficiently +terrible." + +"Mais, point du tout!" cried Duprez energetically. "It was charming! +It made us laugh at death--so much better than to cry! And there was +a delicious child in a winding-sheet; brown curls, laughing eyes and +little mouth; ha ha! but she was well worth kissing!" + +"I'd rather follow ma own funeral, than kiss a lass in a winding- +sheet," said Sandy, in solemn and horrified tones. "It's just awfu' +to think on." + +"But, see, my friend," persisted Duprez, "you would not be permitted +to follow your own funeral, not possible,--voila! Your ARE permitted +to kiss the pretty one in the winding-sheet. It IS possible. Behold +the difference!" + +"Never mind the Taverne de l'Enfer just now," said Errington, who +had finished his breakfast hurriedly." It's time for you fellows to +get your fishing toggery on. I'm off to speak to the pilot." + +And away he went, followed more slowly by Lorimer, who, though he +pretended indifference, was rather curious to know more, if +possible, concerning his friend's adventure of the morning. They +found the pilot, Valdemar Svensen, leaning at his ease against the +idle wheel, with his face turned towards the eastern sky. He was a +stalwart specimen of Norse manhood, tall and strongly built, with +thoughtful, dignified features, and keen, clear hazel eyes. His +chestnut hair, plentifully sprinkled with gray, clustered thickly +over a broad brow, that was deeply furrowed with many a line of +anxious and speculative thought, and the forcible brown hand that +rested lightly on the spokes of the wheel, told its own tale of hard +and honest labor. Neither wife nor child, nor living relative had +Valdemar; the one passion of his heart was the sea. Sir Philip +Errington had engaged him at Christiansund, hearing of him there as +a man to whom the intricacies of the Fjords, and the dangers of +rock-bound coasts, were more familiar than a straight road on dry +lake, and since then the management of the Eulalie had been entirely +entrusted to him. Though an eminently practical sailor, he was half +a mystic, and believed in the wildest legends of his land with more +implicit faith than many so-called Christians believe in their +sacred doctrines. He doffed his red cap respectfully now as +Errington and Lorimer approached, smilingly wishing them "a fair +day." Sir Philip offered him a cigar, and, coming to the point at +once, asked abruptly-- + +"I say, Svensen, are there any pretty girls in Bosekop?" + +The pilot drew the newly lit cigar from his mouth, and passed his +rough hand across his forehead in a sort of grave perplexity. + +"It is a matter in which I am foolish," he said at last, "for my +ways have always gone far from the ways of women. Girls there are +plenty, I suppose, but--" he mused with pondering patience for +awhile. Then a broad smile broke like sunshine over his embrowned +countenance, as he continued, "Now, gentlemen, I do remember well; +it is said that at Bosekop yonder, are to be found some of the +homeliest wenches in all Norway." + +Errington's face fell at this reply. Lorimer turned away to hide the +mischievous smile that came on his lips at his friend's +discomfiture. + +"I KNOW it was that Chartreuse," he thought to himself. "That and +the midnight sun-effects. Nothing else!" + +"What!" went on Philip. "No good-looking girls at all about here, +eh?" + +Svensen shook his head, still smilingly. + +"Not at Bosekop, sir, that I ever heard of." + +"I say!" broke in Lorimer, "are there any old tombs or sea-caves, or +places of that sort close by, worth exploring?" + +Valdemar Svensen answered this question readily, almost eagerly. + +"No, sir! There are no antiquities of any sort; and as for eaves, +there are plenty, but only the natural formations of the sea, and +none of these are curious or beautiful on this side of the Fjord." + +Lorimer poked his friend secretly in the ribs. + +"You've been dreaming, old fellow!" he whispered slyly. "I knew it +was a crammer!" + +Errington shook him off good-humoredly, + +"Can you tell me," he said, addressing Valdemar again in distinct +accents, "whether there is any place, person, or thing near here +called THELMA?" + +The pilot started; a look of astonishment and fear came into his +eyes; his hand went instinctively to his red cap, as though in +deference to the name. + +"The Froken Thelma!" he exclaimed, in low tones. "Is it possible +that you have seen her?" + +"Ah, George, what do you say now?" cried Errington delightedly. +"Yes, yes, Valdemar; the Froken Thelma, as you call her. Who is she? +. . . What is she?--and how can there be no pretty girls in Bosekop +if such a beautiful creature as she lives there?" + +Valdemar looked troubled and vexed. + +"Truly, I thought not of the maiden," he said gravely. "'Tis not for +me to speak of the daughter of Olaf," here his voice sank a little, +and his face grew more and more sombre. "Pardon me, sir, but how did +you meet her?" + +"By accident," replied Errington promptly, not caring to relate his +morning's adventure for the pilot's benefit. "Is she some great +personage here?" + +Svensen sighed, and smiled somewhat dubiously. + +"Great? Oh, no; not what you would call great. Her father, Olaf +Guldmar, is a bonde,--that is, a farmer in his own right. He has a +goodly house, and a few fair acres well planted and tilled,--also he +pays his men freely,--but those that work for him are all he sees,-- +neither he nor his daughter ever visit the town. They dwell apart, +and have nothing in common with their neighbors." + +"And where do they live?" asked Lorimer, becoming as interested as +he had formerly been incredulous. + +The pilot leaned lightly over the rail of the deck and pointed +towards the west. + +"You see that great rock shaped like a giant's helmet, and behind it +a high green knoll, clustered thick with birch and pine?" + +They nodded assent. + +"At the side of the knoll is the bonde's house, a good eight-mile +walk from the outskirts of Bosekop. Should you ever seek to rest +there, gentlemen," and Svensen spoke with quiet resolution, "I doubt +whether you will receive a pleasant welcome." + +And he looked at them both with an inquisitive air, as though +seeking to discover their intentions. + +"Is that so?" drawled Lorimer lazily, giving his friend an +expressive nudge. "Ah! WE shant trouble them! Thanks for your +information, Valdemar! We don't intend to hunt up the--what d'ye +call him?--the bonde, if he's at all surly. Hospitality that gives +you greeting and a dinner for nothing,--that's what suits ME." + +"Our people are not without hospitality," said the pilot, with a +touch of wistful and appealing dignity. "All along your journey, +gentlemen, you have been welcomed gladly, as you know. But Olaf +Guldmar is not like the rest of us; he has the pride and fierceness +of olden days; his manners and customs are different; and few like +him. He is much feared." + +"You know him then?" inquired Errington carelessly. + +"I know him," returned Valdemar quietly. "And his daughter is fair +as the sun and the sea. But it is not my place to speak of them--." +He broke off, and after a slightly embarrassed pause, asked, "Will +the Herren wish to sail to-day?" + +"No Valdemar," answered Errington indifferently. "Not till to- +morrow, when we'll visit the Kaa Fjord if the weather keeps fair." + +"Very good, sir," and the pilot, tacitly avoiding any further +converse with his employer respecting the mysterious Thelma and her +equally mysterious father, turned to examine the wheel and compass +as though something there needed his earnest attention. Errington +and Lorimer strolled up and down the polished white deck arm-in-arm, +talking in low tones. + +"You didn't ask him about the coffin and the dwarf," said Lorimer. + +"No; because I believe he knows nothing of either, and it would be +news to him which I'm not bound to give. If I can manage to see the +girl again the mystery of the cave may explain itself." + +"Well, what are you going to do?" + +Errington looked meditative. "Nothing at present We'll go fishing +with the others. But, I tell you what, if you're up to it, we'll +leave Duprez and Macfarlane at the minister's house this evening and +tell them to wait for us there,--once they all begin to chatter they +never know how time goes. Meanwhile you and I will take the boat and +row over in search of this farmer's abode. I believe there's a short +cut to it by water; at any rate I know the way SHE went." + +"'I know the way she went home with her maiden posy!'" quoted +Lorimer, with a laugh. "You are hit Phil, 'a very palpable hit'! Who +would have thought it! Clara Winsleigh needn't poison her husband +after all in-order to marry you, for nothing but a sun-empress will +suit you now." + +"Don't be a fool, George," said Errington, half vexedly, as the hot +color mounted to his face in spite of himself. "It is all idle +curiosity, nothing else. After what Svensen told us, I'm quite as +anxious to see this gruff old bonde as his daughter." + +Lorimer held up a reproachful finger. "Now, Phil, don't stoop to +duplicity--not with me, at any rate. Why disguise your feelings? +Why, as the tragedians say, endeavor to crush the noblest and best +emotions that ever warm the BOO-ZUM of man? Chivalrous sentiment and +admiration for beauty,--chivalrous desire to pursue it and catch it +and call it your own,--I understand it all, my dear boy! But my +prophetic soul tells me you will have to strangle the excellent Olaf +Guldmar--heavens! what a name!--before you will be allowed to make +love to his fair CHEE-ILD. Then don't forget the madman with the +torch,--he may turn up in the most unexpected fashion and give you +no end of trouble. But, by Jove, it IS a romantic affair, positively +quite stagey! Something will come of it, serious or comic. I wonder +which?" + +Errington laughed, but said nothing in reply, as their two +companions ascended from the cabin at that moment, in full attire +for the fishing expedition, followed by the steward bearing a large +basket of provisions for luncheon,--and all private conversation +came to an end. Hastening the rest of their preparations, within +twenty minutes they were skimming across the Fjord in a long boat +manned by four sailors, who rowed with a will and sent the light +craft scudding through the water with the swiftness of an arrow. +Landing, they climbed the dewy hills spangled thick with forget-me- +nots and late violets, till they reached a shady and secluded part +of the river, where, surrounded by the songs of hundreds of sweet- +throated birds, they commenced their sport, which kept them, well +employed till a late hour in the afternoon. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +"Thou art violently carried away from grace; there is a devil haunts +thee in the likeness of a fat old man,--a ton of man is thy +companion." + + SHAKESPEARE + +The Reverend Charles Dyceworthy sat alone in the small dining-room +of his house at Bosekop, finishing a late tea, and disposing of +round after round of hot buttered toast with that suave alacrity he +always displayed in the consumption of succulent eatables. He was a +largely made man, very much on the wrong side of fifty, with +accumulations of unwholesome fat on every available portion of his +body. His round face was cleanly shaven and shiny, as though its +flabby surface were frequently polished with some sort of luminous +grease instead of the customary soap. His mouth was absurdly small +and pursy for so broad a countenance,--his nose seemed endeavoring +to retreat behind his puffy cheeks as though painfully aware of its +own insignificance,--and he had little, sharp, ferret-like eyes of a +dull mahogany brown, which were utterly destitute of even the +faintest attempt at any actual expression. They were more like glass +beads than eyes, and glittered under their scanty fringe of pale- +colored lashes with a sort of shallow cunning which might mean +malice or good-humor,--no one looking at them could precisely +determine which. His hair was of an indefinite shade, neither light +nor dark, somewhat of the tinge of a dusty potato before it is +washed clean. It was neatly brushed and parted in the middle with +mathematical precision, while from the back of his head it was +brought forward in two projections, one on each side, like budding +wings behind his ears. It was impossible for the most fastidious +critic to find fault with the Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy's hands. He +had beautiful hands, white, soft, plump and well-shaped,--his +delicate filbert nails were trimmed with punctilious care, and shone +with a pink lustre that was positively charming. He was evidently an +amiable man, for he smiled to himself over his tea,--he had a trick +of smiling,--ill-natured people said he did it on purpose, in order +to widen his mouth and make it more in pro-portion to the size of +his face. Such remarks, however, emanated only from the spiteful and +envious who could not succeed in winning the social popularity that +everywhere attended Mr. Dyceworthy's movements. For he was +undoubtedly popular,--no one could deny that. In the small Yorkshire +town where he usually had his abode, he came little short of being +adored by the women of his own particular sect, who crowded to +listen to his fervent discourses, and came away from them on the +verge of hysteria, so profoundly moved were their sensitive souls by +his damnatory doctrines. The men were more reluctant in their +admiration, yet even they were always ready to admit "that he was an +excellent fellow, with his heart in the right place." + +He had a convenient way of getting ill at the proper seasons, and of +requiring immediate change of air, whereupon his grateful flock were +ready and willing to subscribe the money necessary for their beloved +preacher to take repose and relaxation in any part of the world he +chose. This year, however, they had not been asked to furnish the +usual funds for travelling expenses, for the resident minister of +Bosekop, a frail, gentle old man, had been seriously prostrated +during the past winter with an affection of the lungs, which +necessitated his going to a different climate for change and rest. +Knowing Dyceworthy as a zealous member of the Lutheran persuasion, +and, moreover, as one who had in his youth lived for some years in +Christiania,--thereby gaining a knowledge of the Norwegian tongue,-- +he invited him to take his place for his enforced time of absence, +offering him his house, his servants, his pony-carriage and an +agreeable pecuniary douceur in exchange for his services,--proposals +which the Reverend Charles eagerly accepted. Though Norway was not +exactly new to him, the region of the Alton Fjord was, and he at +once felt, though he knew not why, that the air there would be the +very thing to benefit his delicate constitution. Besides, it looked +well for at least ONE occasion, to go away for the summer without +asking his congregation to pay for his trip. It was generous on his +part, almost noble. + +The ladies of his flock wept at his departure and made him socks, +comforters, slippers, and other consoling gear of the like +description to recall their sweet memories to his saintly mind +during his absence from their society. But, truth to tell, Mr. +Dyceworthy gave little thought to these fond and regretful fair +ones; he was much too comfortable at Bosekop to look back with any +emotional yearning to the ugly, precise little provincial town he +had left behind him. The minister's quaint, pretty house suited him +perfectly; the minister's servants were most punctual in their +services: the minister's phaeton conveniently held his cumbrous +person, and the minister's pony was a quiet beast, that trotted +good-temperedly wherever it was guided, and shied at nothing. Yes, +he was thoroughly comfortable,--as comfortable as a truly pious fat +man deserves to be, and all the work he had to do was to preach +twice on Sundays, to a quiet, primitive, decently ordered +congregation, who listened to his words respectfully though without +displaying any emotional rapture. Their stolidity, however, did not +affect him,--he preached to please himself,--loving above all things +to hear the sound of his own voice, and never so happy as when +thundering fierce denunciations against the Church of Rome. His +thoughts seemed tending in that direction now, as he poured himself +out his third cup of tea and smilingly shook his head over it, while +he stirred the cream and sugar in,--for he took from his waistcoat +pocket a small glittering object and laid it before him on the +table, still shaking his head and smiling with a patient, yet +reproachful air of superior wisdom. It was a crucifix of mother-o'- +pearl and silver, the symbol of the Christian faith. But it seemed +to carry no sacred suggestions to the soul of Mr. Dyceworthy. On the +contrary, he looked at it with an expression of meek ridicule,-- +ridicule that bordered on contempt. + +"A Roman," he murmured placidly to himself, between two large bites +of toast. "The girl is a Roman, and thereby hopelessly damned." + +And he smiled again,--more sweetly than before, as though the idea +of hopeless damnation suggested some peculiarly agreeable +reflections. Unfolding his fine cologne-scented cambric +handkerchief, he carefully wiped his fat white fingers free from the +greasy marks of the toast, and, taking up the objectionable cross +gingerly, as though it were red-hot, he examined it closely on all +sides. There were some words engraved on the back of it, and after +some trouble Mr. Dyceworthy spelt them out. They were "Passio +Christi, conforta me. Thelma." + +He shook his head with a sort of resigned cheerfulness. + +"Hopelessly damned," he murmured again gently, "unless--" + +What alternative suggested itself to his mind was not precisely +apparent, for his thoughts suddenly turned in a more frivolous +direction. Rising from the now exhausted tea-table, he drew out a +small pocket-mirror and surveyed himself therein with a mild +approval. With the extreme end of his handkerchief he tenderly +removed two sacrilegious crumbs that presumed to linger in the +corners of his piously pursed mouth. In the same way he detached a +morsel of congealed butter that clung pertinaciously to the end of +his bashfully retreating nose. This done, he again looked at himself +with increased satisfaction, and, putting by his pocket-mirror, rang +the bell. It was answered at once by a tall, strongly built woman, +with a colorless, stolid countenance,--that might have been carved +out of wood for any expression it had in it. + +"Ulrika," said Mr. Dyceworthy blandly, "you can clear the table." + +Ulrika, without answering, began to pack the tea-things together in +a methodical way, without clattering so much as a plate or spoon, +and, piling them compactly on a tray, was about to leave the room, +when Mr. Dyceworthy called to her, "Ulrika!" + +"Sir?" + +"Did you ever see a thing like this before?" and he held up the +crucifix to her gaze. + +The woman shuddered, and her dull eyes lit up with a sudden terror. + +"It is the witch's charm!" she muttered thickly, while her pale face +grew yet paler. "Burn it, sir!--burn it, and the power will leave +her." + +Mr. Dyceworthy laughed indulgently. "My good woman, you mistake," he +said suavely. "Your zeal for the true gospel leads you into error. +There are thousands of misguided persons who worship such a thing as +this. It is often all of our dear Lord they know. Sad, very sad! But +still, though they, alas! are not of the elect, and are plainly +doomed to perdition,--they are not precisely what are termed +witches, Ulrika." + +"SHE is," replied the woman with a sort of ferocity; +"and, if I had my way, I would tell her so to her face, and see what +would happen to her then!" + +"Tut, tut!" remarked Mr. Dyceworthy amiably. "The days of witchcraft +are past. You show some little ignorance, Ulrika. You are not +acquainted with the great advancement of recent learning." + +"Maybe, maybe," and Ulrika turned to go; but she muttered sullenly +as she went, "There be them that know and could tell, and them that +will have her yet." + +She shut the door behind her with a sharp clang, and, left to +himself, Mr. Dyceworthy again smiled--such a benignant, fatherly +smile! He then walked to the window and looked out. It was past +seven o'clock, an hour that elsewhere would have been considered +evening, but in Bosekop at that season it still seemed afternoon. + +The sun was shining brilliantly, and in the minister's front garden +the roses were all wide awake. A soft moisture glittered on every +tiny leaf and blade of grass. The penetrating and delicious odor of +sweet violets scented each puff of wind, and now and then the call +of the cuckoo pierced the air with a subdued, far-off shrillness. + +Prom his position Mr. Dyceworthy could catch a glimpse through the +trees of the principal thoroughfare of Bosekop--a small, primitive +street enough, of little low houses, which, though unpretending from +without, were roomy and comfortable within. The distant, cool +sparkle of the waters of the Fjord, the refreshing breeze, the +perfume of the flowers, and the satisfied impression left on his +mind by recent tea and toast--all these things combined had a +soothing effect on Mr. Dyceworthy, and with a sigh of absolute +comfort he settled his large person in a deep easy chair and +composed himself for pious meditation. + +He meditated long,--with fast-closed eyes and open mouth, while the +earnestness of his inward thoughts was clearly demonstrated now and +then by an irrepressible,--almost triumphant,--cornet-blast from +that trifling elevation of his countenance called by courtesy a +nose, when his blissful reverie was suddenly broken in upon by the +sound of several footsteps crunching slowly along the garden path, +and, starting up from his chair, he perceived four individuals clad +in white flannel costumes and wearing light straw hats trimmed with +fluttering blue ribbons, who were leisurely sauntering up to his +door, and stopping occasionally to admire the flowers on their way. +Mr. Dyceworthy's face reddened visibly with excitement. + +"The gentlemen from the yacht," he murmured to himself, hastily +settling his collar and cravat, and pushing up his cherubic wings of +hair more prominently behind his ears. "I never thought they would +come. Dear me! Sir Philip Errington himself, too! I must have +refreshments instantly." + +And he hurried from the room, calling his orders to Ulrika as he +went, and before the visitors had time to ring, he had thrown open +the door to them himself, and stood smiling urbanely on the +threshold, welcoming them with enthusiasm,--and assuring Sir Philip +especially how much honored he felt, by his thus visiting, +familiarly and unannounced, his humble dwelling. Errington waved his +many compliments good-humoredly aside, and allowed himself and his +friends to be marshalled into the best parlor, the drawing-room of +the house, a pretty little apartment whose window looked out upon a +tangled yet graceful wilderness of flowers. + +"Nice, cosy place this," remarked Lorimer, as he seated himself +negligently on the arm of the sofa. "You must be pretty comfortable +here?" + +Their perspiring and affable host rubbed his soft white hands +together gently. + +"I thank Heaven it suits my simple needs," he answered meekly. +"Luxuries do not become a poor servant of God." + +"Ah, then you are different to many others who profess to serve the +same Master," said Duprez with a sourire fin that had the devil's +own mockery in it. "Monsieur le bon Dieu is very impartial! Some +serve Him by constant over-feeding, others by constant over- +starving; it is all one to Him apparently! How do you know which +among His servants He likes best, the fat or the lean?" + +Sandy Macfarlane, though slightly a bigot for his own form of +doctrine, broke into a low chuckle of irrepressible laughter at +Duprez's levity, but Mr. Dyceworthy's flabby face betokened the +utmost horror. + +"Sir," he said gravely, "there are subjects concerning which it is +not seemly to speak without due reverence. He knoweth His own elect. +He hath chosen them out from the beginning. He summoned forth from +the million, the glorious apostle of reform, Martin Luther--" + +"Le bon gaillard!" laughed Duprez. "Tempted by a pretty nun! What +man could resist! Myself, I would try to upset all the creeds of +this world if I saw a pretty nun worth my trouble. Yes, truly! A +pity though, that the poor Luther died of over-eating; his exit from +life so undignified!" + +"Shut up, Duprez," said Errington severely. "You displease Mr. +Dyceworthy by your fooling." + +"Oh, pray do not mention it, Sir Philip," murmured the reverend +gentleman with a mild patience. "We must accustom ourselves to hear +with forbearance the opinions of all men, howsoever contradictory, +otherwise our vocation is of no avail. Yet is it sorely grievous to +me to consider that there should be any person or persons existent +who lack the necessary faith requisite for the performance of God's +promises." + +"Ye must understand, Mr. Dyceworthy," said Macfarlane in his slow, +deliberate manner, "that ye have before ye a young Frenchman who +doesna believe in onything except himsel'--and even as to whether he +himsel' is a mon or a myth, he has his doots--vera grave doots." + +Duprez nodded delightedly. "That is so!" he exclaimed. "Our dear +Sandy puts it so charmingly! To be a myth seems original,--to be a +mere man, quite ordinary. I believe it is possible to find some good +scientific professor who would prove me to be a myth--the moving +shadow of a dream--imagine!--how perfectly poetical!" + +"You talk too much to be a dream, my boy," laughed Errington, and +turning to Mr. Dyceworthy, he added, "I'm afraid you must think us a +shocking set. We are really none of us very religious, I fear, +though," and he tried to look serious; "if it had not been for Mr. +Lorimer, we should have come to church last Sunday. Mr. Lorimer was, +unfortunately, rather indisposed." + +"Ya-as!" drawled that gentleman, turning from the little window +where he had been gathering a rose for his button-hole. "I was +knocked up; had fits, and all that sort of thing; took these three +fellows all their time on Sunday to hold me down!" + +"Dear me!" and Mr. Dyceworthy was about to make further inquiries +concerning Mr. Lorimer's present state of health, when the door +opened, and Ulrika entered, bearing a large tray laden with wine and +other refreshments. As she set it down, she gave a keen, covert +glance round the room, as though rapidly taking note of the +appearance and faces of all the young men, then, with a sort of +stiff curtsey, she departed as noiselessly as she had come,--not, +however, without leaving a disagreeable impression on Errington's +mind. + +"Rather a stern Phyllis, that waiting-maid of yours," he remarked, +watching his host, who was carefully drawing the cork from one of +the bottles of wine. + +Mr. Dyceworthy smiled. "Oh, no, no! not stern at all," he answered +sweetly. "On the contrary, most affable and kind-hearted. Her only +fault is that she is a little zealous,--over-zealous for the purity +of the faith; and she has suffered much; but she is an excellent +woman, really excellent! Sir Philip, will you try this Lacrima +Christi?" + +"Lacrima Christi!" exclaimed Duprez. "You do not surely get that in +Norway?" + +"It seems strange, certainly," replied Mr. Dyceworthy, "but it is a +fact that the Italian or Papist wines are often used here. The +minister whose place I humbly endeavor to fill has his cellar +stocked with them. The matter is easy of comprehension when once +explained. The benighted inhabitants of Italy, a land, lost in the +darkness of error, still persist in their fasts, notwithstanding the +evident folly of their ways--and the Norwegian sailors provide them +with large quantities of fish for their idolatrous customs, bringing +back their wines in exchange." + +"A very good idea," said Lorimer, sipping the Lacrima with evident +approval--"Phil, I doubt if your brands on board the Eulalie are +better than this." + +"Hardly so good," replied Errington with some surprise, as he tasted +the wine and noted its delicious flavor. "The minister must be a +fine connoisseur. Are there many other families about here, Mr. +Dyceworthy, who know how to choose their wines so well?" + +Mr. Dyceworthy smiled with a dubious air. + +"There is one other household that in the matter of choice liquids +is almost profanely particular," he said. "But they are people who +are ejected with good reason from respectable society, and,--it +behooves me not to speak of their names." + +"Oh, indeed!" said Errington, while a sudden and inexplicable thrill +of indignation fired his blood and sent it in a wave of color up to +his forehead--"May I ask--" + +But he was interrupted by Lorimer, who, nudging him slyly on one +side, muttered, "Keep cool, old fellow! You can't tell whether he's +talking about the Guldmar folk! Be quiet--you don't want every one +to know your little game." + +Thus adjured, Philip swallowed a large gulp of wine, to keep down +his feelings, and strove to appear interested in the habits and +caprices of bees, a subject into which Mr. Dyceworthy had just +inveigled Duprez and Macfarlane. + +"Come and see my bees," said the Reverend Charles almost +pathetically. "They are emblems of ever-working and patient +industry,--storing up honey for others to partake thereof." + +"They wudna store it up at a', perhaps, if they knew that," observed +Sandy significantly. + +Mr. Dyceworthy positively shone all over with beneficence. + +"They WOULD store it up, sir; yes, they would, even if they knew! It +is God's will that they should store it up; it is God's will that +they should show an example of unselfishness, that they should flit +from flower to flower sucking therefrom the sweetness to impart into +strange palates unlike their own. It is a beautiful lesson; it +teaches us who are the ministers of the Lord to likewise suck the +sweetness from the flowers of the living gospel, and impart it +gladly to the unbelievers who shall find it sweeter than the +sweetest honey!" + +And he shook his head piously several times, while the pores of his +fat visage exuded holy oil. Duprez sniggered secretly. Macfarlane +looked preternaturally solemn. + +"Come," repeated the reverend gentleman, with an inviting smile. +"Come and see my bees,--also my strawberries! I shall be delighted +to send a basket of the fruit to the yacht, if Sir Philip will +permit me?" + +Errington expressed his thanks with due courtesy, and hastened to +seize the opportunity that presented itself for breaking away from +the party. + +"If you will excuse us for twenty minutes or so, Mr. Dyceworthy," he +said, "Lorimer and I want to consult a fellow here in Bosekop about +some new fishing tackle. We shan't be gone long. Mac, you and Duprez +wait for us here. Don't commit too many depredations on Mr. +Dyceworthy's strawberries." + +The reason for their departure was so simply and naturally given, +that it was accepted without any opposing remarks. Duprez was +delighted to have the chance of amusing himself by harassing the +Reverend Charles with open professions of utter atheism, and +Macfarlane, who loved an argument more than he loved whiskey, looked +forward to a sharp discussion presently concerning the superiority +of John Knox, morally and physically, over Martin Luther. So that +when the others went their way, their departure excited no suspicion +in the minds of their friends, and most unsuspecting of all was the +placid Mr. Dyceworthy, who, had he imagined for an instant the +direction which they were going, would certainly not have discoursed +on the pleasures of bee-keeping with the calmness and placid +conviction, that always distinguished him when holding forth on any +subject that was attractive to his mind. Leading the way through his +dewy, rose-grown garden, and conversing amicably as he went, he +escorted Macfarlane and Duprez to what he called with a gentle humor +his "Bee-Metropolis," while Errington and Lorimer returned to the +shore of the Fjord, where they had left their boat moored to a +small, clumsily constructed pier,--and entering it, they set +themselves to the oars and pulled away together with the long, +steady, sweeping stroke rendered famous by the exploits of the +Oxford and Cambridge men. After some twenty minutes' rowing, Lorimer +looked up and spoke as he drew his blade swiftly through the bright +green water. + +"I feel as though I were aiding and abetting you in some crime, +Phil. You know, my first impression of this business remains the +same. You had much better leave it alone." + +"Why?" asked Errington coolly. + +"Well, 'pon my life I don't know why. Except that, from long +experience, I have proved that it's always dangerous and troublesome +to run after a woman. Leave her to run after you--she'll do it last +enough." + +"Wait till you see her. Besides, I'm not running after any woman," +averred Philip with some heat. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon--I forgot. She's not a woman; she's a Sun- +angel. You are rowing, not running, after a Sun-angel. Is that +correct? I say, don't drive through the water like that; you'll pull +the boat round." + +Errington slackened his speed and laughed. "It's only curiosity," he +said, lifting his hat, and pushing back the clustering dark-brown +curls from his brow. "I bet you that sleek Dyceworthy fellow meant +the old bonde and his daughter, when he spoke of persons who were +'ejected' from the social circles of Bosekop. Fancy Bosekop society +presuming to be particular--what an absurd idea!" + +"My good fellow, don't pretend to be so deplorably ignorant! Surely +you know that a trumpery village or a two-penny town is much more +choice and exclusive in its 'sets' than a great city? I wouldn't +live in a small place for the world. Every inhabitant would know the +cut of my clothes by heart, and the number of buttons on my +waistcoat. The grocer would copy the pattern of my trousers,--the +butcher would carry a cane like mine. It would be simply +insufferable. To change the subject, may I ask you if you know which +way you are going, for it seems to me we're bound straight for a +smash on that uncomfortable-looking rock, where there is certainly +no landing-place." + +Errington stopped pulling, and, standing up in the boat, began to +examine the surroundings with keen interest. They were close to the +great crag "shaped like a giant's helmet," as Valdemar Svensen had +said. It rose sheer out of the water, and its sides were almost +perpendicular. Some beautiful star-shaped sea anemones clung to it +in a varicolored cluster on one projection, and the running ripple +of the small waves broke on its jagged corners with a musical +splash, and sparkle of white foam. Below them, in the emerald mirror +of the Fjord, it was so clear that they could see the fine white +sand lying at the bottom, sprinkled thick with shells and lithe +moving creatures of all shapes, while every now and then, there +streamed past them, brilliantly tinted specimens of the Medusae, +with their long feelers or tendrils, looking like torn skins of +crimson and azure floss silk. + +The place was very silent; only the sea-gulls circled round and +round the summit of the great rock, some of them occasionally +swooping down on the unwary fishes, their keen eyes perceived in the +waters beneath, then up again they soared, swaying their graceful +wings and uttering at intervals that peculiar wild cry that in +solitary haunts sounds so intensely mournful. Errington gazed about +him in doubt for some minutes, then suddenly his face brightened. He +sat down again in the boat and resumed his oar. + +"Row quietly, George," he said in a subdued tone "Quietly--round to +the left." + +The oars dipped noiselessly, and the boat shot forward,--then +swerved sharply round in the direction,--and there before them lay a +small sandy creek, white and shining as though sprinkled with +powdered silver. From this, a small but strongly-built wooden pier +ran out into the sea. It was carved all over with fantastic figures, +and in it at equal distances, were fastened iron rings, such as are +used for the safe mooring of boats. One boat was there already, and +Errington recognized it with delight. It was that in which he had +seen the mysterious maiden disappear. High and dry on the sand, out +of reach of the tides, was a neat sailing-vessel; its name was +painted round the stern--The Valkyrie. + +As the two friends ran their boat on shore, and fastened it to the +furthest ring of the convenient pier, they caught the distant sound +of the plaintiff "coo-cooing" of turtle doves. + +"You've done it this time, old boy," said Lorimer, speaking in a +whisper, though he knew not why. "This is the old bonde's own +private landing-place evidently, and here's a footpath leading +somewhere. Shall we follow it?" + +Philip emphatically assented, and, treading softly, like the +trespassers they felt themselves to be, they climbed the ascending +narrow way that guided them up from the seashore, round through a +close thicket of pines, where their footsteps fell noiselessly on a +thick carpet of velvety green moss, dotted prettily here and there +with the red gleam of ripening wild strawberries. Everything was +intensely still, and as yet there seemed no sign of human +habitation. Suddenly a low whirring sound broke upon their ears, and +Errington, who was a little in advance of his companion, paused +abruptly with a smothered exclamation, and drew back on tip-toe, +catching Lorimer by the arm. + +"By Jove!" he whispered excitedly, "we've come right up to the very +windows of the house. Look!" + +Lorimer obeyed, and for once, the light jest died upon his tips. +Surprise and admiration held him absolutely silent. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"Elle filait et souriait--et je crois qn'elle enveloppa mon coeur +avec son fil."--Heine + + +Before them, close enough for their outstretched hands to have +touched it, was what appeared to be a framed picture, exquisitely +painted,--a picture perfect in outline matchless in color, faultless +in detail,--but which was in reality nothing but a large latticed +window thrown wide open to admit the air. They could now see +distinctly through the shadows cast by the stately pines, a long, +low, rambling house, built roughly, but strongly, of wooden rafters, +all overgrown with green and blossoming creepers; but they scarcely +glanced at the actual building, so strongly was their attention +riveted on the one window before them. It was surrounded by an +unusually broad framework, curiously and elaborately carved, and +black as polished ebony. Flowers grew all about it,--sweet peas, +mignonette, and large purple pansies--while red and white climbing +roses rioted in untrained profusion over its wide sill. Above it was +a quaintly built dovecote, where some of the strutting fan-tailed +inhabitants were perched, swelling out their snowy breasts, and +discoursing of their domestic trials in notes of dulcet melancholy; +while lower down, three or four ring-doves nestled on the roof in a +patch of sunlight, spreading up their pinions like miniature sails, +to catch the warmth and lustre. + +Within the deep, shadowy embrasure, like a jewel placed on dark +velvet, was seated a girl spinning,--no other than the mysterious +maiden of the shell cavern. She was attired in a plain, straight +gown, of some soft white woolen stuff, cut squarely at her throat; +her round, graceful arms were partially bare, and as the wheel +turned swiftly, and her slender hands busied themselves with the +flax, she smiled, as though some pleasing thought had touched her +mind. Her smile had the effect of sudden sunshine in the dark room +where she sat and span,--it was radiant and mirthful as the smile of +a happy child. Yet her dark blue eyes remained pensive and earnest, +and the smile soon faded, leaving her fair face absorbed and almost +dreamy. The whirr-whirring of the wheel grew less and less rapid,-- +it slackened,--it stopped altogether,--and, as though startled by +some unexpected sound, the girl paused and listened, pushing away +the clustering masses of her rich hair from her brow. Then rising +slowly from her seat, she advanced to the window, put aside the +roses with one hand, and looked out,--thus forming another picture +as beautiful, if not more beautiful, than the first. + +Lorimer drew his breath hard. "I say, old fellow," he whispered; but +Errington pressed his arm with vice-like firmness, as a warning to +him to be silent, while they both stepped farther back into the +dusky gloom of the pine boughs. + +The girl, meanwhile, stood motionless, in a half-expectant attitude, +and, seeing her there, some of the doves on the roof flew down and +strutted on the ground before her, coo-cooing proudly, as though +desirous of attracting her attention. One of them boldly perched on +the window-sill; she glanced at the bird musingly, and softly +stroked its opaline wings and shining head without terrifying it. It +seemed delighted to be noticed, and almost lay down under her hand +in order to be more conveniently caressed. Still gently smoothing +its feathers, she leaned further out among the clambering wealth of +blossoms, and called in a low, penetrating tone, "Father! father! is +that you?" + +There was no answer; and, after waited a minute or two, she moved +and resumed her former seat, the stray doves flew back to their +customary promenade on the roof, and the drowsy whirr-whirr of the +spinning-wheel murmured again its monotonous hum upon the air. + +"Come on, Phil," whispered Lorimer, determined not to be checked +this time; "I feel perfectly wretched! It's mean of us to be +skulking about here, as if we were a couple of low thieves waiting +to trap some of those birds for a pigeon-pie. Come away,--you've +seen her; that's enough." + +Errington did not move. Holding back a branch of pine, he watched +the movements of the girl at her wheel with absorbed fascination. + +Suddenly her sweet lips parted, and she sang a weird, wild melody, +that seemed, like a running torrent, to have fallen from the crests +of the mountains, bringing with it echoes from the furthest summits, +mingled with soft wailings of a mournful wind. + +Her voice was pure as the ring of fine crystal--deep, liquid, and +tender, with a restrained passion in it that stirred Errington's +heart and filled it with a strange unrest and feverish yearning,-- +emotions which were new to him, and which, while he realized their +existence, moved him to a sort of ashamed impatience. He would have +willingly left his post of observation now, if only for the sake of +shaking off his unwonted sensations; and he took a step or two +backwards for that purpose, when Lorimer, in his turn, laid a +detaining hand on his shoulder. + +"For Heaven's sake, let us hear the song through!" he said in +subdued tones. "What a voice! A positive golden flute!" + +His rapt face betokened his enjoyment, and Errington, nothing loth, +still lingered, his eyes fixed on the white-robed slim figure framed +in the dark old rose-wreathed window--the figure that swayed softly +with the motion of the wheel and the rhythm of the song,--while +flickering sunbeams sparkled now and then on the maiden's dusky gold +hair, or touched up a warmer tint on her tenderly flushed cheeks, +and fair neck, more snowy than the gown she wore. Music poured from +her lips as from the throat of a nightingale. The words she sang +were Norwegian, and her listeners understood nothing of them; but +the melody,--the pathetic appealing melody,--soul-moving as all true +melody must be, touched the very core of their hearts, and entangled +them in a web of delicious reveries. + +"Talk of Ary Scheffer's Gretchen!" murmured Lorimer with a sigh. +"What a miserable, pasty, milk-and-watery young person she is beside +that magnificent, unconscious beauty! I give in, Phil! I admit your +taste. I'm willing to swear that she's a Sun-Angel if you like. Her +voice has convinced me of that." + +At that instant the song ceased. Errington turned and regarded him +steadfastly. + +"Are YOU hit, George?" he said softly, with a forced smile. + +Lorimer's face flushed, but he met his friend's eyes frankly. + +"I am no poacher, old fellow," he answered in the same quiet +accents; "I think you know that. If that girl's mind is as lovely as +her face, I say, go in and win!" + +Sir Philip smiled. His brow cleared and an expression of relief +settled there. The look of gladness was unconscious; but Lorimer saw +it at once and noted it. + +"Nonsense!" he said in a mirthful undertone. "How can I go in and +win, as you say? What am I to do? I can't go up to that window and +speak to her,--she might take me for a thief." + +"You look like a thief," replied Lorimer, surveying his friend's +athletic figure, clad in its loose but well-cut yachting suit of +white flannel, ornamented with silver anchor buttons, and taking a +comprehensive glance from the easy pose of the fine head and +handsome face, down to the trim foot with the high and well-arched +instep, "very much like a thief? I wonder I haven't noticed it +before. Any London policeman would arrest you on the mere fact of +your suspicious appearance." + +Errington laughed. "Well, my boy, whatever my looks may testify, I +am at this moment an undoubted trespasser on private property,--and +so are you for that matter. What shall we do?" + +"Find the front door and ring the bell," suggested George promptly. +"Say we are benighted travellers and have lost our way. The bonde +can but flay us. The operation, I believe, is painful, but it cannot +last long." + +"George, you are incorrigible! Suppose we go back and try the other +side of this pine-wood? That might lead us to the front of the +house." + +"I don't see why we shouldn't walk coolly past that window," said +Lorimer. "If any observation is made by the fair 'Marguerite' +yonder, we can boldly say we have come to see the bonde." + +Unconsciously they had both raised their voices a little during the +latter part of their hasty dialogue, and at the instant when Lorimer +uttered the last words, a heavy hand was laid on each of their +shoulders,--a hand that turned them round forcibly away from the +window they had been gazing at, and a deep, resonant voice addressed +them. + +"The bonde? Truly, young men, you need seek no further,--I am Olaf +Guldmar!" + +Had he said, "I am an Emperor!" he could not have spoken with more +pride. + +Errington and his friend were for a moment speechless,--partly from +displeasure at the summary manner in which they had been seized and +twisted round like young uprooted saplings, and partly from surprise +and involuntary admiration for the personage who had treated them +with such scant courtesy. They saw before them a man somewhat above +the middle height, who might have served an aspiring sculptor as a +perfect model for a chieftain of old Gaul, or a dauntless Viking. +His frame was firmly and powerfully built, and seemed to be +exceptionally strong and muscular; yet an air of almost courtly +grace pervaded his movements, making each attitude he assumed more +or less picturesque. He was broad-shouldered and deep-chested; his +face was full and healthily colored, while his head was truly +magnificent. Well-poised and shapely, it indicated power, will, and +wisdom; and was furthermore adorned by a rough, thick mass of snow- +white hair that shone in the sunlight like spun silver. His beard +was short and curly, trimmed after the fashion of the warriors of +old Rome; and, from under his fierce, fuzzy, grey eyebrows, a pair +of sentinel eyes, that were keen, clear, and bold as an eagle's, +looked out with a watchful steadiness--steadiness that like the +sharp edge of a diamond, seemed warranted to cut through the brittle +glass of a lie. Judging by his outward appearance, his age might +have been guessed at as between fifty-eight and sixty, but he was, +in truth, seventy-two, and more strong, active, and daring than many +another man whose years are not counted past the thirties. He was +curiously attired, after something of the fashion of the Highlander, +and something yet more of the ancient Greek, in a tunic, vest, and +loose jacket all made of reindeer skin, thickly embroidered with +curious designs worked in coarse thread and colored beads; while +thrown carelessly over his shoulders and knotted at his waist, was a +broad scarf of white woollen stuff, or wadmel, very soft-looking and +warm. In his belt he carried a formidable hunting-knife, and as he +faced the two intruders on his ground, he rested one hand lightly +yet suggestively on a weighty staff of pine, which was notched all +over with quaint letters and figures, and terminated in a curved +handle at the top. He waited for the young man to speak, and finding +they remained silent, he glanced at them half angrily and again +repeated his words-- + +"I am the bonde,--Olaf Guldmar. Speak your business and take your +departure; my time is brief!" + +Lorimer looked up with his usual nonchalance,--a faint smile playing +about his lips. He saw at once that the old farmer was not a man to +be trifled with, and he raised his cap with a ready grace as he +spoke. + +"Fact is," he said frankly, "we've no business here at all--not the +least in the world. We are perfectly aware of it! We are +trespassers, and we know it. Pray don't be hard on us, Mr.--Mr. +Guldmar!" + +The bonde glanced him over with a quick lightening of the eyes, and +the suspicion of a smile in the depths of his curly beard. He turned +to Errington. + +"Is this true? You came here on purpose, knowing the ground was +private property?" + +Errington, in his turn, lifted his cap from his clustering brown +curls with that serene and stately court manner which was to him +second nature. + +"We did," he confessed, quietly following Lorimer's cue, and seeing +also that it was best to be straightforward. "We heard you spoken of +in Bosekop, and we came to see if you would permit us the honor of +your acquaintance." + +The old man struck his pine-staff violently into the ground, and his +face flushed wrathfully. + +"Bosekop!" he exclaimed. "Talk to me of a wasp's nest! Bosekop! You +shall hear of me there enough to satisfy your appetite for news. +Bosekop! In the days when my race ruled the land, such people as +they that dwell there would have been put to sharpen my sword on the +grindstone, or to wait, hungry and humble, for the refuse of the +food left from my table!" + +He spoke with extraordinary heat and passion,--it was evidently +necessary to soothe him. Lorimer took a covert glance backward over +his shoulder towards the lattice window, and saw that the white +figure at the spinning-wheel had disappeared. + +"My dear Mr. Guldmar," he then said with polite fervor, "I assure +you I think the Bosekop folk by no means deserve to sharpen your +sword on the grindstone, or to enjoy the remains of your dinner! +Myself, I despise them! My friend here, Sir Philip Errington, +despises them--don't you, Phil?" + +Errington nodded demurely. + +"What my friend said just now is perfectly true," continued Lorimer. +"We desire the honor of your acquaintance,--it will charm and +delight us above all things!" + +And his face beamed with a candid, winning, boyish smile, which was +very captivating in its own way, and which certainly had its effect +on the old bonde, for his tone softened, though he said gravely-- + +"My acquaintance, young men, is never sought by any. Those who are +wise, keep away from me. I love not strangers, it is best you should +know it. I freely pardon your trespass; take your leave, and go in +peace." + +The two friends exchanged disconsolate looks. There really seemed +nothing for it, but to obey this unpleasing command. Errington made +one more venture. + +"May I hope, Mr. Guldmar," he said with persuasive courtesy, "that +you will break through your apparent rule of seclusion for once and +visit me on board my yacht? You have no doubt seen her--the Eulalie- +-she lies at anchor in the Fjord." + +The bonde looked him straight in the eyes. "I have seen her. A fair +toy vessel to amuse an idle young man's leisure! You are he that in +that fool's hole of a Bosekop, is known as the 'rich Englishman,'-- +an idle trifler with time,--an aimless wanderer from those dull +shores where they eat gold till they die of surfeit! I have heard of +you,--a mushroom knight, a fungus of nobility,--an ephemeral growth +on a grand decaying old tree, whose roots lie buried in the annals +of a far forgotten past." + +The rich, deep voice of the old man quivered as he spoke, and a +shadow of melancholy flitted across his brow. Errington listened +with unruffled patience. He heard himself, his pleasures, his +wealth, his rank, thus made light of, without the least offense. He +met the steady gaze of the bonde quietly, and slightly bent his head +as though in deference to his remarks. + +"You are quite right," he said simply. "We modern men are but +pigmies compared with the giants of old time. Royal blood itself is +tainted nowadays. But, for myself, I attach no importance to the +mere appurtenances of life,--the baggage that accompanies one on +that brief journey. Life itself is quite enough for me." + +"And for me too," averred Lorimer, delighted that his friend had +taken the old former's scornful observations so good-naturedly. +"But, do you know, Mr. Guldmar, you are making life unpleasant for +us just now, by turning us out? The conversation is becoming +interesting! Why not prolong it? We have no friends in Bosekop, and +we are to anchor here for some days. Surely you will allow us to +come and see you again?" + +Olaf Guldmar was silent. He advanced a step nearer, and studied them +both with such earnest and searching scrutiny, that as they +remembered the real attraction that had drawn them thither, the +conscious blood mounted to their faces, flushing Errington's +forehead to the very roots of his curly brown hair. Still the old +man gazed as though he sought to read their very souls. He muttered +something to himself in Norwegian, and, finally, to their utter +astonishment, he drew his hunting-knife from its sheath, and with a +rapid, wild gesture, threw it on the ground and placed his foot upon +it. + +"Be it so!" he said briefly. "I cover the blade! You are men; like +men you speak truth. As such, I receive you! Had you told me a lie +concerning your coming here,--had you made pretense of having lost +your way, or other such shifty evasion, your path would never have +again crossed mine. As it is,--welcome!" + +And he held out his hand with a sort of royal dignity, still resting +one foot on the fallen weapon. The young men, struck by his action +and gratified by his change of manner and the genial expression that +now softened his rugged features, were quick to respond to his +friendly greeting, and the bonde, picking up and re-sheathing his +hunting-knife as if he had done nothing at all out of the common, +motioned them towards the very window on which their eyes had been +so long and so ardently fixed. + +"Come!" he said. "You must drain a cup of wine with me before you +leave. Your unguided footsteps led you by the wrong path,--I saw +your boat moored to my pier, and wondered who had been venturesome +enough to trample through my woodland. I might have guessed that +only a couple of idle boys like yourselves, knowing no better, would +have pushed their way to a spot that all worthy dwellers in Bosekop, +and all true followers of the Lutheran devilry, avoid as though the +plague were settled in it." + +And the old man laughed, a splendid, mellow laugh, with the ring of +true jollity in it,--a laugh that was infectious, for Errington and +Lorimer joined in it heartily without precisely knowing why. +Lorimer, however, thought it seemly to protest against the +appellation "idle boys." + +"What do you take us for, sir?" he said with lazy good-nature. "I +carry upon my shoulders the sorrowful burden of twenty-six years,-- +Philip, there, is painfully conscious of being thirty,--may we not +therefore dispute the word 'boys' as being derogatory to our +dignity? You called us 'men' a while ago,--remember that!" + +Olaf Guldmar laughed again. His suspicious gravity had entirely +disappeared, leaving his face a beaming mirror of beneficence and +good-humor. + +"So you ARE men," he said cheerily, "men in the bud, like leaves on +a tree. But you seem boys to a tough old stump of humanity such as I +am. That is my way,--my child Thelma, though they tell me she is a +woman grown, is always a babe to me. 'Tis one of the many privileges +of the old, to see the world about them always young and full of +children." + +And he led the way past the wide-open lattice, where they could +dimly perceive the spinning-wheel standing alone, as though thinking +deeply of the fair hands that had lately left it idle, and so round +to the actual front of the house, which was exceedingly picturesque, +and literally overgrown with roses from ground to roof. The entrance +door stood open;--it was surrounded by a wide, deep porch richly +carved and grotesquely ornamented, having two comfortable seats +within it, one on each side. Through this they went, involuntarily +brushing down as they passed, a shower of pink and white rose- +leaves, and stepped into a wide passage, where upon walls of dark, +polished pine, hung a large collection of curiously shaped weapons, +all of primitive manufacture, such as stone darts and rough axes, +together with bows and arrows and two-handled swords, huge as the +fabled weapon of William Wallace. + +Opening a door to the right the bonde stood courteously aside and +bade them enter, and they found themselves in the very apartment +where they had seen the maiden spinning. + +"Sit down, sit down!" said their host hospitably. "We will have wine +directly, and Thelma shall come hither. Thelma! Thelma! Where is the +child? She wanders hither and thither like a mountain sprite. Wait +here, my lads, I shall return directly." + +And he strode away, leaving Errington and Lorimer delighted at the +success of their plans, yet somewhat abashed too. There was a peace +and gentle simplicity about the little room in which they were, that +touched the chivalrous sentiment in their natures and kept them +silent. On one side of it, half a dozen broad shelves supported a +goodly row of well-bound volumes, among which the time-honored +golden names of Shakespeare and Scott glittered invitingly, together +with such works as Chapman's Homer, Byron's "Childe Harold," the +Poems of John Keats, Gibbon's Rome, and Plutarch; while mingled with +these were the devotional works in French of Alphonse de Liguori, +the "Imitation," also in French,--and a number of books with titles +in Norwegian,--altogether an heterogenous collection of literature, +yet not without interest as displaying taste and culture on the part +of those to whom it belonged. Errington, himself learned in books, +was surprised to see so many standard works in the library of one +who professed to be nothing but a Norwegian farmer, and his respect +for the sturdy old bonde increased. There were no pictures in the +room,--the wide lattice window on one hand, looking out on the roses +and pine-wood, and the other smaller one, close to the entrance +door, from which the Fjord was distinctly visible, were sufficient +pictures in themselves, to need no others. The furniture was roughly +made of pine, and seemed to have been carved by hand,--some of the +chairs were very quaint and pretty and would have sold in a bric-a- +brac shop for more than a sovereign apiece. On the wide mantle-shelf +was a quantity of curious old china that seemed to have been picked +up from all parts of the world,--most of it was undoubtedly +valuable. In one dark corner stood an ancient harp; then there was +the spinning-wheel,--itself a curiosity fit for a museum,-- +testifying dumbly of the mistress of all these surroundings, and on +the floor there was something else,--something that both the young +men were strongly inclined to take possession of. It was only a bunch +of tiny meadow daisies, fastened together with a bit of blue silk. +It had fallen,--they guessed by whom it had been worn,--but neither +made any remark, and both, by some strange instinct, avoided looking +at it, as though the innocent little blossoms carried within them +some terrible temptation. They were conscious of a certain +embarrassment, and making an effort to break through it, Lorimer +remarked softly-- + +"By Jove, Phil, if this old Guldmar really knew what you are up to, +I believe he would bundle you out of this place like a tramp! Didn't +you feel a sneak when he said we had told the truth like men?" + +Philip smiled dreamily. He was seated in one of the quaintly carved +chairs, half absorbed in what was evidently a pleasing reverie. + +"No; not exactly," he replied. "Because we DID tell him the truth; +we did want to know him, and he's worth knowing too! He is a +magnificent-looking fellow; don't you think so?" + +"Rather!" assented Lorimer, with emphasis. "I wish there were any +hope of my becoming such a fine old buffer in my DECADENCE,--it +would be worth living for if only to look at myself in the glass now +and then. He rather startled me when he threw down that knife, +though. I suppose it is some old Norwegian custom?" + +"I suppose so," Errington answered, and then was silent, for at that +moment the door opened and the old farmer returned, followed by a +girl bearing a tray glittering with flasks of Italian wine, and long +graceful glasses shaped like round goblets, set on particularly +slender stems. The sight of the girl disappointed the eager +visitors, for though she was undeniably pretty, she was not Thelma. +She was short and plump, with rebellious nut-brown locks, that +rippled about her face and from under her close white cap with +persistent untidiness. Her cheeks were as round and red as lore- +apples, and she had dancing blue eyes that appeared for ever engaged +in good-natured efforts to outsparkle each other. She wore a +spotless apron, lavishly trimmed with coquettish little starched +frills,--her hands were, unfortunately, rather large and coarse,-- +but her smile, as she set down the tray and curtsied respectfully to +the young men, was charming, disclosing as it did, tiny teeth as +even and white as a double row of small pearls. + +"That is well, Britta," said Guldmar, speaking in English, and +assisting her to place the glasses. "Now, quick! . . . run after thy +mistress to the shore,--her boat cannot yet have left the creek,-- +bid her return and come to me,--tell her there are friends here who +will be glad of her presence." + +Britta hurried away at once, but Errington's heart sank. Thelma had +gone!--gone, most probably, for one of those erratic journeys across +the Fjord to the cave where he had first seen her. She would not +come back, he felt certain; not even at her father's request would +that beautiful, proud maiden consent to alter her plans. What an +unlucky destiny was his! Absorbed in disappointed reflections, he +scarcely heard the enthusiastic praises Lorimer was diplomatically +bestowing on the bonde's wine. He hardly felt its mellow flavor on +his own palate, though it was in truth delicious, and fit for the +table of a monarch. Guldmar noticed the young baronet's abstraction, +and addressed him with genial kindness. + +"Are you thinking, Sir Philip, of my rough speeches to you yonder? +No offense was meant, no offense!. . ." the old fellow paused, and +laughed over his wine-glass. "Yet I may as well be honest about it! +Offense WAS meant; but when I found that none was taken, my humor +changed." + +A slight, half-weary smile played on Errington's lips. "I assure +you, sir," he said, "I agreed with you then and agree with you now +in every word you uttered. You took my measure very correctly, and +allow me to add that no one can be more conscious of my own +insignificance that I am myself. The days we live in are +insignificant; the chronicle of our paltry doings will be skipped by +future readers of the country's history. Among a society of +particularly useless men, I feel myself to be one of the most +useless. If you could show me any way to make my life valuable--" + +He paused abruptly, and his heart beat with inexplicable rapidity. A +light step and the rustle of a dress was heard coming through the +porch; another perfumed shower of rose-leaves fell softly on the +garden path; the door of the room opened, and a tall, fair, white- +robed figure shone forth from the dark background of the outer +passage; a figure that hesitated on the threshold, and then advanced +noiselessly and with a reluctant shyness. The old bonde turned round +in his chair with a smile. + +"Ah, here she is!" he said fondly. "Where hast thou been, my +Thelma?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + + "And Sigurd the Bishop said, + 'The old gods are not dead, + For the great Thor still reigns, + And among the Jarls and Thanes + The old witchcraft is spread.'" + + LONGFELLOW'S Saga of King Olaf + + +The girl stood silent, and a faint blush crimsoned her cheeks. The +young men had risen at her entrance, and in one fleeting glance she +recognized Errington, though she gave no sign to that effect. + +"See, my darling," continued her father, "here are English visitors +to Norway. This is Sir Philip Errington, who travels through our +wild waters in the great steam yacht now at anchor in the Fjord; and +this is his friend, Mr.--Mr.--Lorimer,--have I caught your name +rightly, my lad?" he continued, turning to George Lorimer with a +kindly smile. + +"You have, sir," answered that gentleman promptly, and then he was +mute, feeling curiously abashed in the presence of this royal- +looking young lady, who, encircled by her father's arm, raised her +deep, dazzling blue eyes, and serenely bent her stately head to him +as his name was mentioned. + +The old farmer went on, "Welcome them, Thelma mine!--friends are +scarce in these days, and we must not be ungrateful for good +company. What! what! I know honest lads when I see them! Smile on +them, my Thelma!--and then we will warm their hearts with another +cup of wine." + +As he spoke, the maiden advanced with a graceful, even noble air, +and extending both her hands to each of the visitors in turn, she +said-- + +"I am your servant, friends; in entering this house you do possess +it. Peace and heart's greeting!" + +The words were a literal translation of a salutation perfectly +common in many parts of Norway--a mere ordinary expression of +politeness; but, uttered in the tender, penetrating tones, of the +most musical voice they had ever heard, and accompanied by the warm, +frank, double handclasp of those soft, small, daintily shaped hands, +the effect on the minds of the generally self-possessed, fashionably +bred young men of the world, was to confuse and bewilder them to the +last degree. What could they answer to this poetical, quaint formula +of welcome? The usual latitudes, such as "Delighted, I'm sure;" or, +"Most happy--am charmed to meet you?" No; these remarks, deemed +intelligent by the lady rulers of London drawing-rooms, would, they +felt, never do here. As well put a gentleman in modern evening dress +en face with a half-nude scornfully beautiful statue of Apollo, as +trot out threadbare, insincere commonplaces in the hearing of this +clear-eyed child of nature, whose pure, perfect face seemed to +silently repel the very passing shadow of a falsehood. + +Philip's brain whirled round and about in search of some suitable +reply, but could find none; and Lorimer felt himself blushing like a +schoolboy, as he stammered out something incoherent and eminently +foolish, though he had sense enough left to appreciate the pressure +of those lovely hands as long as it lasted. + +Thelma, however, appeared not to notice their deep embarrassment-- +she had not yet done with them. Taking the largest goblet on the +table, she filled it to the brim with wine, and touched it with her +lips,--then with a smile in which a thousand radiating sunbeams +seemed to quiver and sparkle, she lifted it towards Errington. The +grace of her attitude and action wakened him out of his state of +dreamy bewilderment--in his soul he devoutly blessed these ancient +family customs, and arose to the occasion like a man. Clasping with +a tender reverence the hands that upheld the goblet, he bent his +handsome head and drank a deep draught, while his dark curls almost +touched her fair ones,--and then an insane jealousy possessed him +for a moment, as he watched her go through the same ceremony with +Lorimer. + +She next carried the now more than half-emptied cup to the bonde, +and said as she held it, laughing softly-- + +"Drink it all, father!--if you leave a drop, you know these +gentlemen will quarrel with us, or you with them." + +"That is true!" said Olaf Guldmar with great gravity; "but it will +not be my fault, child, nor the fault of wasted wine." + +And he drained the glass to its dregs and set it upside down on the +table with a deep sigh of satisfaction and refreshment. The ceremony +concluded, it was evident the ice of reserve was considered broken, +for Thelma seated herself like a young queen, and motioned her +visitors to do the same with a gesture of gracious condescension. + +"How did you find your way here?" she asked with sweet, yet direct +abruptness, giving Sir Philip a quick glance, in which there was a +sparkle of mirth, though her long lashes veiled it almost instantly. + +Her entire lack of stiffness and reserve set the young men at their +ease, and they fell into conversation freely, though Errington +allowed Lorimer to tell the story of their trespass in his own +fashion without interference. He instinctively felt that the young +lady who listened with so demure a smile to that plausible +narrative, knew well enough the real motive that had brought them +thither though she apparently had her own reasons for keeping +silence on the point, as whatever she may have thought, she said +nothing. + +Lorimer skillfully avoided betraying the fact that they had watched +her through the window, and had listened to her singing. And Thelma +heard all the explanations patiently till Bosekop was mentioned, and +then her fair face grew cold and stern. + +"From whom did you hear of us there?" she inquired. "We do not mix +with the people,--why should they speak of us?" + +"The truth is," interposed Errington, resting his eyes with a sense +of deep delight on the beautiful rounded figure and lovely features +that were turned towards him, "I heard of you first through my +pilot--one Valdemar Svensen." + +"Ha, ha!" cried old Guldmar with some excitement, "there is a fellow +who cannot hold his tongue! What have I said to thee, child? A +bachelor is no better than a gossiping old woman. He that is always +alone must talk, if it be only to woods and waves. It is the married +men who know best how excellent it is to keep silence!" + +They all laughed, though Thelma's eyes had a way of looking pensive +even when she smiled. + +"You would not blame poor Svensen because he is alone, father?" she +said. "Is he not to be pitied? Surely it is a cruel fate to have +none to love in all the wide world. Nothing can be more cruel!" + +Guldmar surveyed her humorously. "Hear her!" he said. "She talks as +if she knew all about such things; and if ever a child was ignorant +of sorrow, surely it is my Thelma! Every flower and bird in the +place loves her. Yes; I have thought sometimes the very sea loves +her. It must; she is so much upon it. And as for her old father"--he +laughed a little, though a suspicious moisture softened his keen +eyes--"why, he doesn't love her at all. Ask her! She knows it." + +Thelma rose quickly and kissed him. How deliciously those sweet lips +pouted, thought Errington, and what an unreasonable and +extraordinary grudge he seemed to bear towards the venerable bonde +for accepting that kiss with so little apparent emotion! + +"Hush, father!" she said. "These friends can see too plainly how +much you spoil me. Tell me,"--and she turned with a sudden pretty +imperiousness to Lorimer, who started at her voice as a racehorse +starts at its rider's touch,--"what person in Bosekop spoke of us?" + +Lorimer was rather at a loss, inasmuch as no one in the small town +had actually spoken of them, and Mr. Dyceworthy's remarks concerning +those who were "ejected with good reason from respectable society," +might not, after all, have applied to the Guldmar family. Indeed, it +now seemed an absurd and improbable supposition. Therefore he +replied cautiously-- + +"The Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy, I think, has some knowledge of you. Is +he not a friend of yours?" + +These simple words had a most unexpected effect. Olaf Guldmar sprang +up from his seat flaming with wrath. It was in vain that his +daughter laid a restraining hand upon his arm. The name of the +Lutheran divine had sufficed to put him in a towering passion, and +he turned furiously upon the astonished Errington. + +"Had I known you came from the devil, sir, you should have returned +to him speedily, with hot words to hasten your departure! I would +have split that glass to atoms before I would have drained it after +you! The friends of a false heart are no friends for me,--the +followers of a pretended sanctity find no welcome under my roof! Why +not have told me at once that you came as spies, hounded on by the +liar Dyceworthy? Why not have confessed it openly? .. . . and not +have played the thief's trick on an old fool, who, for once, misled +by your manly and upright bearing, consented to lay aside the +rightful suspicions he at first entertained of your purpose? Shame +on you, young men! shame!" + +The words coursed impetuously from his lips; his face burned with +indignation. He had broken away from his daughter's hold, while she, +pale and very still, stood leaning one hand upon the table. His +white hair was tossed back from his brow; his eyes flashed; his +attitude though vengeful and threatening, was at the same time so +bold and commanding that Lorimer caught himself lazily admiring the +contour of his figure, and wondering how he would look in marble as +an infuriated Viking. + +One excellent thing in the dispositions of both Errington and +Lorimer was that they never lost temper. Either they were too lazy +or too well-bred. Undoubtedly they both considered it "bad form." +This indifference stood them in good stead now. They showed no sign +whatever of offense, though the old farmer's outbreak of wrath was +so sudden and unlooked for, that they remained for a moment silent +out of sheer surprise. Then rising with unruffled serenity, they +took up their caps preparatory to departure. Errington's gentle, +refined voice broke the silence. + +"You are in error, Mr. Guldmar," he said in chilly but perfectly +polite tones. "I regret you should be so hasty in your judgment of +us. If you accepted us as 'men' when you first met us, I cannot +imagine why you should now take us for spies. The two terms are by +no means synonymous. I know nothing of Mr. Dyceworthy beyond that he +called upon me, and that I, as in duty bound, returned his call. I +am ignorant of his character and disposition. I may add that I have +no desire to be enlightened respecting them. I do not often take a +dislike to anybody, but it so happens that I have done so in the +case of Mr. Dyceworthy. I know Lorimer doesn't care for him, and I +don't think my other two friends are particularly attached to him. I +have nothing more to say, except that I fear we have outstayed our +welcome. Permit us now to wish you good evening. And you,"--he +hesitated, and turned with a low bow to Thelma, who had listened to +his words with a gradually dawning brightness on her face--"you +will, I trust, exonerate us from any intentional offense towards +your father or yourself? Our visit has proved unlucky, but--" + +Thelma interrupted him by laying her fair little hand on his arm +with a wistful, detaining gesture, which, though seemingly familiar, +was yet perfectly sweet and natural. The light touch thrilled his +blood, and sent it coursing through his veins at more than customary +speed. + +"Ah, then, you also will be foolish!" she said, with a naive +protecting air of superior dignity. "Do you not see my father is +sorry? Have we all kissed the cup for nothing, or was the wine +wasted? Not a drop was spilt; how then, if we are friends should we +part in coldness? Father, it is you to be ashamed,--not these +gentleman, who are strangers to the Altenfjord, and know nothing of +Mr. Dyceworthy, or an other person dwelling here. And when their +vessel sails away again over the wide seas to their own shores, how +will you have them think of you? As one whose heart was all +kindness, and who helped to make their days pass pleasantly? or as +one who, in unreasonable anger, forgot the duties of sworn +hospitality?" + +The bonde listened to her full, sweet, reproachful voice as a tough +old lion might listen to the voice of its tamer, uncertain whether +to yield or spring. He wiped his heated brow and stared around him +shamefacedly. Finally, as though swallowing his pride with a gulp, +he drew a long breath, took a couple of determined strides forward, +and held out his hands, one to Errington and the other to Lorimer, +by whom they were warmly grasped. + +"There, my lads," he said rapidly. "I'm sorry I spoke! Forgive and +forget! That is the worst of me--my blood is up in a minute, and old +though I am, I'm not old enough yet to be patient. And when I hear +the name of that sneak Dyceworthy--by the gates of Valhalla, I feel +as if my own house would not hold me! No, no; don't go yet! Nearly +ten? Well, no matter, the night is like the day here, you see--it +doesn't matter when one goes to bed. Come and sit in the porch +awhile; I shall get cool out there. Ah, Thelma, child! I see thee +laughing at thy old father's temper! Never mind, never mind; is it +not for thy sake after all?" + +And, holding Errington by the arm, he led the way into the fine old +porch, Lorimer following with rather a flushed face, for he, as he +passed out of the room, had managed to pick up and secrete the +neglected little bunch of daisies, before noticed as having fallen +on the floor. He put them quickly in his breast pocket with a +curious sense of satisfaction, though he had no intention of keeping +them, and leaned idly against the clambering roses, watching Thelma, +as she drew a low stool to her father's feet and sat there. A balmy +wind blew in from the Fjord, and rustled mysteriously among the +pines; the sky was flecked here and there with fleecy clouds, and a +number of birds were singing in full chorus. Old Guldmar heaved a +sigh of relief, as though his recent outburst of passion had done +him good. + +"I will tell you, Sir Philip," he said, ruffling his daughter's +curls as he spoke,--"I will tell you why I detest the villian +Dyceworthy. It is but fair you should know it. Now, Thelma!--why +that push to my knee? You fear I may offend our friends again? Nay, +I will take good care. And so, first of all, I ask you, what is your +religion? Though I know you cannot be Lutherans." + +Errington was somewhat taken aback by the question. He smiled. + +"My dear sir," he replied at last; "to be frank with you, I really +do not think I have any religion. If I had, I suppose I should call +myself a Christian, though, judging from the behavior of Christians +in general, I cannot be one of them after all,--for I belong to no +sect, I go to no church, and I have never read a tract in my life. I +have a profound reverence and admiration for the character and +doctrine of Christ, and I believe if I had had the privilege of +knowing and conversing with Him, I should not have deserted Him in +extremity as his timorous disciples did. I believe in an all-wise +Creator; so you see I am not an atheist. My mother was an Austrian +and a Catholic, and I have a notion that, as a small child, I was +brought up in that creed; but I'm afraid I don't know much about it +now." + +The bonde nodded gravely. "Thelma, here," he said, "is a Catholic, +as her mother was--" he stopped abruptly, and a deep shadow of pain +darkened his features. Thelma looked up,--her large blue eyes filled +with sudden tears, and she pressed her father's hand between her +own, as though in sympathy with some undeclared grief; then she +looked at Errington with a sort of wistful appeal. Philip's heart +leaped as he met that soft beseeching glance, which seemed to +entreat his patience with the old man for her sake--he felt himself +drawn into a bond of union with her thoughts, and in his innermost +soul he swore as knightly a vow of chivalry and reverence for the +fair maiden, who thus took him into her silent confidence, as though +he were some gallant Crusader of old time, pledged to defend his +lady's honor unto death. Olaf Guldmar, after a long and apparently +sorrowful pause, resumed his conversation. + +"Yes," he said, "Thelma is a Catholic, though here she has scarcely +any opportunity for performing the duties of her religion. It is a +pretty and a graceful creed,--well fitted for women. As for me, I am +made of sterner stuff, and the maxims of that gentle creature, +Christ, find no echo in my soul. But you, young sir," he added, +turning suddenly on Lorimer, who was engaged in meditatively +smoothing out on his palm one of the fallen rose-petals--"you have +not spoken. What faith do you profess? It is no curiosity that +prompts me to ask,--I only seek not to offend." + +Lorimer laughed languidly. "Upon my life, Mr. Guldmar, you really +ask too much of me. I haven't any faith at all; not a shred! It's +been all knocked out of me. I tried to hold on to a last remaining +bit of Christian rope in the universal ship-wreck, but that was torn +out of my hands by a scientific professor, who ought to know what he +is about, and--and--now I drift along anyhow!" + +Guldmar smiled dubiously; but Thelma looked at the speaker with +astonished, regretful eyes. + +"I am sorry," she said simply. "You must be often unhappy." + +Lorimer was not disconcerted, though her evident pity caused an +unwanted flush on his face. + +"Oh no," he said in answer to her, "I am not a miserable sort of +fellow by any means. For instance, I'm not afraid of death,--lots of +very religious people are horribly afraid of it, though they all the +time declare it's the only path to heaven. They're not consistent at +all. You see I believe in nothing,--I came from nothing,--I am +nothing,--I shall be nothing. That being plain, I am all right." + +Guldmar laughed. "You are an odd lad," he said good-humoredly. "You +are in the morning of life; there are always mists in the morning as +there are in the evening. In the light of your full manhood you will +see these things differently. Your creed of Nothing provides no +moral law,--no hold on the conscience, no restraint on the +passions,--don't you see that?" + +Lorimer smiled with a very winning and boyish candor. "You are +exceedingly good, sir, to credit me with a conscience! I don't think +I have one,--I'm sure I have no passions. I have always been too +lazy to encourage them, and as for moral law,--I adhere to morality +with the greatest strictness, because if a fellow is immoral, he +ceases to be a gentleman. Now, as there are very few gentlemen +nowadays, I fancy I'd like to be one as long as I can." + +Errington here interposed. "You mustn't take him seriously. Mr. +Guldmar," he said; "he's never serious himself, I'll give you his +character in a few words. He belongs to no religious party, it's +true,--but he's a first-rate fellow,--the best fellow I know!" + +Lorimer glanced at him quietly with a gratified expression on his +face. But he said nothing, for Thelma was regarding him with a most +bewitching smile. + +"Ah!" she said, shaking a reproachful finger at him, "you do love +all nonsense, that I can see! You would make every person laugh, if +you could,--is it not so?" + +"Well, yes," admitted George, "I think I would! But it's a herculean +task sometimes. If you had ever been to London, Miss Guldmar, you +would understand how difficult it is to make people even smile,--and +when they do, the smile is not a very natural one." + +"Why?" she exclaimed. "Are they all so miserable?" + +"They pretend to be, if they're not," said Lorimer; "it is the +fashion there to find fault with everything and everybody." + +"That is so," said Guldmar thoughtfully. "I visited London once and +thought I was in hell. Nothing but rows of hard, hideously built +houses, long streets, and dirty alleys, and the people had weary +faces all, as though Nature had refused to bless them. A pitiful +city,--doubly pitiful to the eyes of a man like myself, whose life +has been passed among fjords and mountains such as these. Well, now, +as neither of you are Lutherans,--in fact, as neither of you seem to +know what you are," and he laughed, "I can be frank, and speak out +as to my own belief. I am proud to say I have never deserted the +faith of my fathers, the faith that makes a man's soul strong and +fearless, and defiant of evil,--the faith that is supposed to be +crushed out among us, but that is still alive and rooted in the +hearts of many who can trace back their lineage to the ancient +Vikings as I can,--yes!--rooted firm and fast,--and however much +some of the more timorous feign to conceal it, in the tacit +acceptance of another creed, there are those who can never shake it +off, and who never desire to forsake it. I am one of these few. +Shame must fall on the man who willfully deserts the faith of his +warrior-ancestry! Sacred to me for ever be the names of Odin and +Thor!" + +He raised his hand aloft with a proud gesture, and his eyes flashed. +Errington was interested, but not surprised: the old bonde's +declaration of his creed seemed eminently fitted to his character. +Lorimer's face brightened,--here was a novelty--a man, who in all +the conflicting storms of modern opinion, sturdily clung to the +traditions of his forefathers. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed eagerly, "I think the worship of Odin would +suit me perfectly! It's a rousing, fighting sort of religion,--I'm +positive it would make a man of me. Will you initiate me into the +mysteries, Mr. Guldmar? There's a fellow in London who writes poetry +on Indian subjects, and who, it is said, thinks Buddhism might +satisfy his pious yearnings,--but I think Odin would be a personage +to command more respect than Buddha,--at any rate, I should like to +try him. Will you give me a chance?" + +Olaf Guldmar smiled gravely, and rising from his seat, pointed to +the western sky. + +"See yonder threads of filmy white," he said, "that stretch across +the wide expanse of blue! They are the lingering, fading marks of +light clouds,--and even while we watch them, they shall pass and be +no more. Such is the emblem of your life, young man--you that would, +for an idle jest or pastime, presume to search into the mysteries of +Odin! For you they are not,--your spirit is not of the stern mould +that waits for death as gladly as the bridegroom waits for the +bride! The Christian heaven is an abode for girls and babes,-- +Valhalla is the place for men! I tell you, my creed is as divine in +its origin as any that ever existed on the earth! The Rainbow Bridge +is a fairer pathway from death to life than the doleful Cross,--and +better far the dark summoning eyes of a beauteous Valkyrie, than the +grinning skull and cross-bones, the Christian emblem of mortality. +Thelma thinks,--and her mother before her thought also,--that +different as my way of belief is to the accepted new creeds of to- +day, it will be all right with me in the next world--that I shall +have as good a place in heaven as any Christian. It may be so,--I +care not! But see you,--the key-note of all the civilization of +to-day is discontent, while I,--thanks to the gods of my fathers, +am happy, and desire nothing that I have not." + +He paused and seemed absorbed. The young men watched his fine +inspired features with lively interest. Thelma's head was turned +away from them so that her face was hidden. By-and-by he resumed in +quieter tones-- + +"Now, my lads, you know what we are--both of us accursed in the +opinion of the Lutheran community. My child belongs to the so-called +idolatrous Church of Rome. I am one of the very last of the 'heathen +barbarians,'"--and the old fellow smiled sarcastically, "though, +truth to tell, for a barbarian, I am not such a fool as some folks +would have you think. If the snuffling Dyceworthy and I competed at +a spelling examination, I'm pretty sure 'tis I would have the prize! +But, as I said,--you know us,--and if our ways are likely to offend +you, then let us part good friends before the swords are fairly +drawn." + +"No sword will be drawn on my side, I assure you, sir," said +Errington, advancing and laying one hand on the bonde's shoulder. "I +hope you will believe me when I say I shall esteem it an honor and a +privilege to know more of you." + +"And though you won't accept me as a servant of Odin," added +Lorimer, "you really cannot prevent me from trying to make myself +agreeable to you. I warn you, Mr. Guldmar, I shall visit you pretty +frequently! Such men as you are not often met with." + +Olaf Guldmar looked surprised. "You really mean it?" he said. +"Nothing that I have told you affects you? You still seek our +friendship?" + +They both earnestly assured him that they did, and as they spoke +Thelma rose from her low seat and faced them with a bright smile. + +"Do you know," she said, "that you are the first people who, on +visiting us once, have ever cared to come again? Ah, you look +surprised, but it is so, is it not, father?" + +Guldmar nodded a grave assent. + +"Yes," she continued demurely, counting on her little white fingers, +"we are three things--first, we are accursed; secondly, we have the +evil eye; thirdly, we are not respectable!" + +And she broke into a peal of laughter, ringing and sweet as a chime +of bells. The young men joined her in it; and, still with an amused +expression on her lovely face, leaning her head back against a +cluster of pale roses, she went on-- + +"My father dislikes Mr. Dyceworthy so much, because he wants to--to-- +oh, what is it they do to savages, father? Yes, I know,--to convert +us,--to make us Lutherans. And when he finds it all no use, he is +angry; and, though he is so religious, if he hears any one telling +some untruth about us in Bosekop, he will add another thing equally +untrue, and so it grows and grows, and--why! what is the matter with +you?" she exclaimed in surprise as Errington scowled and clenched +his fist in a peculiarly threatening manner. + +"I should like to knock him down!" he said briefly under his breath. + +Old Guldmar laughed and looked at the young baronet approvingly. + +"Who knows, who knows!" he said cheerfully. "You may do it some day! +It will be a good deed! I will do it myself if he troubles me much +more. And now let us make some arrangement with you. When will you +come and see, us again?" + +"You must visit me first," said Sir Philip quickly. "If you and your +daughter will honor me with your company to-morrow, I shall be proud +and pleased. Consider the yacht at your service." + +Thelma, resting among the roses, looked across at him with serious, +questioning eyes--eyes that seemed to be asking his intentions +towards both her and her father. + +Guldmar accepted the invitation at once, and, the hour for their +visit next day being fixed and agreed upon, the young men began to +take their leave. As Errington clasped Thelma's hand in farewell, he +made a bold venture. He touched a rose that hung just above her head +almost dropping on her hair. + +"May I have it?" he asked in a low tone. + +Their eyes met. The girl flushed deeply, and then grew pale. She +broke off the flower and gave it to him,--then turned to Lorimer to +say good-bye. They left her then, standing under the porch, shading +her brow with one hand from the glittering sunlight, as she watched +them descending the winding path to the shore, accompanied by her +lather, who hospitably insisted on seeing them into their boat. They +looked back once or twice, always to see the slender, tall white +figure standing there like an angel resting in a bower of roses, +with the sunshine flashing on a golden crown of hair. At the last in +the pathway Philip raised his hat and waved it, but whether she +condescended to wave her hand in answer he could not see. + +Left alone, she sighed, and went slowly into the house to resume her +spinning. Hearing the whirr of the wheel, the servant Britta +entered. + +"You are not going in the boat, Froken?" she asked in a tone of +mingled deference and affection. + +Thelma looked up, smiled faintly, and shook her head in the +negative. + +"It is late, Britta, and I am tired." + +And the deep blue eyes had an intense dreamy light within them as +they wandered from the wheel to the wide-open window, and rested on +the majestic darkness of the overshadowing, solemn pines. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + + "In mezzo del mio core c' e una spina; + Non c' e barbier che la possa levare,-- + Solo il mio amore colla sua manina" + + Rime Popolari + +Errington and Lorimer pulled away across the Fjord in a silence that +lasted for many minutes. Old Guldmar stood on the edge of his little +pier to watch them out of sight. So, till their boat turned the +sharp corner of the protecting rock, that hid the landing-place from +view, they saw his picturesque figure and gleaming silvery hair +outlined clearly against the background of the sky--a sky now +tenderly flushed with pink like the inside of a delicate shell. When +they could no longer perceive him they still rowed on speaking no +word,--the measured, musical plash of the oars through the smooth, +dark olive-green water alone breaking the stillness around them. +There was a curious sort of hushed breathlessness in the air; +fantastic, dream-like lights and shadows played on the little +wrinkling waves; sudden flushes of crimson came and went in the +western horizon, and over the high summits of the surrounding +mountains mysterious shapes, formed of purple and grey mist, rose up +and crept softly downwards, winding in and out deep valleys and dark +ravines, like wandering spirits sent on some secret and sorrowful +errand. After a while Errington said almost vexedly-- + +"Are you struck dumb, George? Haven't you a word to say to a +fellow?" + +"Just what I was about to ask YOU," replied Lorimer carelessly; "and +I was also going to remark that we hadn't seen your mad friend up at +the Guldmar residence." + +"No. Yet I can't help thinking he has something to do with them, all +the same," returned Errington meditatively. "I tell you, he swore at +me by some old Norwegian infernal place or other. I dare say he's an +Odin worshipper, too. But never mind him. What do you think of HER?" + +Lorimer turned lazily round in the boat, so that he faced his +companion. + +"Well, old fellow, if you ask me frankly, I think she is the most +beautiful woman I ever saw, or, for that matter, ever heard of. And +I am an impartial critic--perfectly impartial." + +And, resting on his oar, he dipped the blade musingly in and out of +the water, watching the bright drops fall with an oil-like +smoothness as they trickled from the polished wood and glittered in +the late sunshine like vari-colored jewels. Then he glanced +curiously at Philip, who sat silent, but whose face was very grave +and earnest,--even noble, with that shade of profound thought upon +it. He looked like one who had suddenly accepted a high trust, in +which there was not only pride, but tenderness. Lorimer shook +himself together, as he himself would have expressed it, and touched +his friend's arm half-playfully. + +"You've met the king's daughter of Norroway after all, Phil;" and +his light accents had a touch of sadness in them; "and you'll have +to bring her home, as the old song says. I believe the 'eligible' is +caught at last. The 'woman' of the piece has turned up, and your +chum must play second fiddle--eh, old boy?" + +Errington flushed hotly, but caught Lorimer's hand and pressed it +with tremendous fervor. + +"By Jove, I'll wring it off your wrist if you talk in that fashion, +George!" he said, with a laugh. "You'll always be the same to me, +and you know it. I tell you," and he pulled his moustache +doubtfully, "I don't know quite what's the matter with me. That girl +fascinates me! I feel a fool in her presence. Is that a sign of +being in love I wonder?" + +"Certainly not!" returned George promptly; "for _I_ feel a fool in +her presence, and I'm not in love." + +"How do you know that?" And Errington glanced at him keenly and +inquiringly. + +"How do I know? Come, I like that! Have I studied myself all these +years for nothing? Look here,"--and he carefully drew out the little +withering bunch of daisies he had purloined--"these are for you. I +knew you wanted them, though you hadn't the impudence to pick them +up, and I had. I thought you might like to put them under your +pillow, and all that sort of thing, because if one is resolved to +become love-lunatic, one may as well do the thing properly out and +out,--I hate all half-measures. Now, if the remotest thrill of +sentiment were in me, you can understand, I hope, that wild horses +would not have torn this adorable posy from my possession! I should +have kept it, and you would never have known of it," and he laughed +softly. "Take it, old fellow! You're rich now, with the rose she +gave you besides. What is all your wealth compared with the sacred +preciousness of such blossoms! There, don't look so awfully +estactic, or I shall be called upon to ridicule you in the interests +of common sense. So you're in love with the girl at once, and have +done with it. Don't beat about the bush!" + +"I'm not sure about it," said Philip, taking the daisies gratefully, +however, and pressing them in his pocket-book. "I don't believe in +love at first sight!" + +"I do," returned Lorimer decidedly. "Love is electricity. Two +telegrams are enough to settle the business,--one from the eyes of +the man, the other from those of the woman. You and Miss Guldmar +must have exchanged a dozen such messages at least." + +"And you?" inquired Errington persistently. "You had the same chance +as myself." + +George shrugged his shoulders. "My dear boy, there are no wires of +communication between the Sun-angel and myself; nothing but a blank, +innocent landscape, over which perhaps some day, the mild lustre of +friendship may beam. The girl is beautiful--extraordinarily so; but +I'm not a 'man o' wax,' as Juliet's gabbling old nurse says--not in +the least impressionable." + +And forthwith he resumed his oar, saying briskly as he did so-- + +"Phil, do you know those other fellows must be swearing at us pretty +forcibly for leaving them so long with Dyceworthy. We've been away +two hours!" + +"Not possible!" cried Errington, amazed, and wielding his oar +vigorously. "They'll think me horribly rude. By Jove, they must be +bored to death!" + +And, stimulated by the thought of the penance their friends were +enduring, they sent the boat spinning swiftly through the water, and +rowed as though they were trying for a race, when they were suddenly +pulled up by a loud "Halloo!" and the sight of another boat coming +slowly out from Bosekop, wherein two individuals were standing up, +gesticulating violently. + +"There they are!" exclaimed Lorimer. "I say, Phil, they've hired a +special tub, and are coming out to us." + +So it proved. Duprez and Macfarlane had grown tired of waiting for +their truant companions, and had taken the first clumsy wherry that +presented itself, rowed by an even clumsier Norwegian boatman, whom +they had been compelled to engage also, as he would not let his ugly +punt out of his sight, for fear some harm might chance to befall it. +Thus attended, they were on their way back to the yacht. With a few +long, elegant strokes, Errington and Lorimer soon brought their boat +alongside, and their friends gladly jumped into it, delighted to be +free of the company of the wooden-faced mariner they had so +reluctantly hired, and who now, on receiving his fee, paddled +awkwardly away in his ill-constructed craft, without either a word +of thanks or salutation. Errington began to apologize at once for +his long absence, giving as a reason for it, the necessity he found +himself under of making a call on some persons of importance in the +neighborhood, whom he had, till now, forgotten. + +"My good Phil-eep!" cried Duprez, in his cheery sing song accent, +"why apologize? We have amused ourselves! Our dear Sandy has a vein +of humor that is astonishing! We have not wasted our time. No! We +have made Mr. Dyceworthy our slave; we have conquered him; we have +abased him! He is what we please,--he is for all gods or for no +god,--just as we pull the string! In plain words, mon cher, that +amiable religious is drunk!" + +"Drunk!" cried Errington and Lorimer together. "Jove! you don't mean +it?" + +Macfarlane looked up with a twinkle of satirical humor in his deep- +set grey eyes. + +"Ye see," he said seriously, "the Lacrima, or Papist wine as he +calls it, was strong--we got him to take a good dose o't--a vera +feir dose indeed. Then, doun he sat, an' fell to convairsing vera +pheelosophically o'mony things,--it wad hae done ye gude to hear +him,--he was fair lost in the mazes o' his metapheesics, for twa +flies took a bit saunter through the pleasant dewy lanes o' his +forehead, an' he never raised a finger to send them awa' aboot their +beeziness. Then I thoet I wad try him wi' the whusky--I had ma +pocket flask wi' me--an' O mon! he was sairly glad and gratefu' for +the first snack o't! He said it was deevilish fine stuff, an' so he +took ane drappikie, an' anither drappikie, and yet anither +drappikie,"--Sandy's accent got more and more pronounced as he went +on--"an' after a bit, his heed dropt doun, an' he took a wee snoozle +of a minute or twa,--then he woke up in a' his strength an' just +grappit the flask in his twa hands an' took the hale o't off at a +grand, rousin' gulp! Ma certes! after it ye shuld ha' seen him +laughin' like a feckless fule, an' rubbin' an' rubbin' his heed, +till his hair was like the straw kicked roond by a mad coo!" + +Lorimer lay back in the stern of the boat and laughed uproariously +at this extraordinary picture, as did the others. + +"But that is not all," said Duprez, with delighted mischief +sparkling in his wicked little dark eyes; "the dear religious opened +his heart to us. He spoke thickly, but we could understand him. He +was very impressive! He is quite of my opinion. He says all religion +is nonsense, fable, imposture,--Man is the only god, Woman his +creature and subject. Again,--man and woman conjoined, make up +divinity, necessity, law. He was quite clear on that point. Why did +he preach what he did not believe, we asked? He almost wept! He +replied that the children of this world liked fairy-stories and he +was paid to tell them. It was his bread and butter,--would we wish +him to have no bread and butter? We assured him so cruel a thought +had no place in our hearts! Then he is amorous--yes! the good fat +man is amorous! He would have become a priest, but on close +examination of the confessionals he saw there was no possibility of +seeing, much less kissing a lady penitent through the grating. So he +gave up that idea! In his form of faith he CAN kiss, he says,--he +DOES kiss!--always a holy kiss, of course! He is so ingenuous,--so +delightfully frank, it is quite charming!" + +They laughed again. Sir Philip looked somewhat disgusted. + +"What an old brute he must be!" he said. "Somebody ought to kick +him--a holy kick, of course, and therefore more intense and forcible +than other kicks." + +"You begin, Phil," laughed Lorimer, "and we'll all follow suit. +He'll be like that Indian in 'Vathek' who rolled himself into a +ball; no one could resist kicking as long as the ball bounded before +them,--we, similarly, shall not be able to resist, if Dyceworthy's +fat person is once left at our mercy." + +"That was a grand bit he told us, Errington," resumed Macfarlane. +"Ye should ha' heard him talk aboot his love-affair!. . . the saft +jelly of a man that he is, to be making up to ony woman." + +At that moment they ran alongside of the Eulalie and threw up their +oars. + +"Stop a bit," said Errington. "Tell us the rest on board." + +The ladder was lowered; they mounted it, and their boat was hauled +up to its place. + +"Go on!" said Lorimer, throwing himself lazily into a deck arm-chair +and lighting a cigar, while the others leaned against the yacht +rails and followed his example. "Go on, Sandy--this is fun! +Dyceworthy's amours must be amusing. I suppose he's after that ugly +wooden block of a woman we saw at his house who is so zealous for +the 'true gospel'?" + +"Not a bit of it," replied Sandy, with immense gravity. "The auld +Silenus has better taste. He says there's a young lass running after +him, fit to break her heart aboot him,--puir thing, she must have +vera little choice o' men! He hasna quite made up his mind, though +he admeets she's as fine a lass as ony man need require. He's sorely +afraid she has set herself to catch him, as he says she's an eye +like a warlock for a really strong good-looking fellow like +himself," and Macfarlane chuckled audibly. "Maybe he'll take pity on +her, maybe he wont; the misguided lassie will be sairly teazed by +him from a' he tauld us in his cups. He gave us her name,--the +oddest in a'the warld for sure,--I canna just remember it." + +"I can," said Duprez glibly. "It struck me as quaint and pretty-- +Thelma Guldmar." + +Errington started so violently, and flushed so deeply, that Lorimer +was afraid of some rash outbreak of wrath on his part. But he +restrained himself by a strong effort. He merely took his cigar from +his mouth and puffed a light cloud of smoke into the air before +replying, then he said coldly-- + +"I should say Mr. Dyceworthy, besides being a drunkard, is a most +consummate liar. It so happens that the Guldmars are the very people +I have just visited,--highly superior in every way to anybody we +have yet met in Norway. In fact, Mr. and Miss Guldmar will come on +board to-morrow. I have invited them to dine with us; you will then +be able to judge for yourselves whether the young lady is at all of +the description Mr. Dyceworthy gives of her." + +Duprez and Macfarlane exchanged astonished looks. + +"Are ye quite sure," the latter ventured to remark cautiously, "that +ye're prudent in what ye have done? Remember ye have asked no +pairson at a' to dine with ye as yet,--it's a vera sudden an' +exceptional freak o' hospitality." + +Errington smoked on peacefully and made no answer. Duprez hummed a +verse of a French chansonnette under his breath and smiled. Lorimer +glanced at him with a lazy amusement. + +"Unburden yourself, Pierre, for heaven's sake!" he said. "Your mind +is as uncomfortable as a loaded camel. Let it lie down, while you +take off its packages, one by one, and reveal their contents. In +short, what's up?" + +Duprez made a rapid, expressive gesture with his hands. + +"Mon cher, I fear to displease Phil-eep! He has invited these +people; they are coming,--bien! there is no more to say." + +"I disagree with ye," interposed Macfarlane "I think Errington +should hear what WE ha' heard; it's fair an' just to a mon that he +should understand what sort o' folk are gaun to pairtake wi' him at +his table. Ye see, Errington, ye should ha' thought a wee, before +inviting pairsons o' unsettled an' dootful chairacter--" + +"Who says they are?" demanded Errington half-angrily. "The drunken +Dyceworthy?" + +"He was no sae drunk at the time he tauld us." persisted Macfarlane +in his most obstinate, most dictatorial manner. "Ye see, it's just +this way--" + +"Ah, pardon!" interrupted Duprez briskly. "Our dear Sandy is an +excellent talker, hut he is a little slow. Thus it is, mon cher +Errington. This gentleman named Guldmar had a most lovely wife--a +mysterious lady, with an evident secret. The beautiful one was never +seen in the church or in any town or village; she was met sometimes +on hills, by rivers, in valleys, carrying her child in her arms. The +people grew afraid of her; but, now, see what happens! Suddenly, she +appears no more; some one ventures to ask this Monsieur Guldmar, +'What has become of Madame?' His answer is brief. 'She is dead!' +Satisfactory so far, yet not quite; for, Madame being dead, then +what has become of the corpse of Madame? It was never seen,--no +coffin was ever ordered,--and apparently it was never buried! Bien! +What follows? The good people of Bosekop draw the only conclusion +possible--Monsieur Guldmar, who is said to have a terrific temper, +killed Madame and made away with her body. Voila!" + +And Duprez waved his hand with an air of entire satisfaction. + +Errington's brow grew sombre. "This is the story, is it?" he asked +at last. + +"It is enough, is it not?" laughed Duprez. "But, after all, what +matter? It will be novel to dine with a mur--" + +"Stop!" said Philip fiercely, with so much authority that the +sparkling Pierre was startled. "Call no man by such a name till you +know he deserves it. If Guldmar was suspected, as you say, why +didn't somebody arrest him on the charge?" + +"Because, ye see," replied Macfarlane, "there was not sufficient +proof to warrant such a proceeding. Moreover, the actual meenister +of the parish declared it was a' richt, an' said this Guldmar was a +mon o' vera queer notions, an' maybe, had buried his wife wi' +certain ceremonies peculiar to himself--What's wrong wi' ye now?" + +For a light had flashed on Errington's mind, and with the quick +comprehension it gave him, his countenance cleared. He laughed. + +"That's very likely," he said; "Mr. Guldmar is a character. He +follows the faith of Odin, and not even Dyceworthy can convert him +to Christianity." + +Macfarlane stared with a sort of stupefied solemnity. + +"Mon!" he exclaimed, "ye never mean to say there's an actual puir +human creature that in this blessed, enlightened nineteenth century +of ours, is so far misguidit as to worship the fearfu' gods o' the +Scandinavian meethology?" + +"Ah!" yawned Lorimer, "you may wonder away, Sandy, but it's true +enough! Old Guldmar is an Odinite. In this blessed, enlightened +nineteenth century of ours, when Christians amuse themselves by +despising and condemning each other, and thus upsetting all the +precepts of the Master they profess to follow, there is actually a +man who sticks to the traditions of his ancestors. Odd, isn't it? In +this delightful, intellectual age, when more than half of us are +discontented with life and yet don't want to die, there is a fine +old gentleman, living beyond the Arctic circle, who is perfectly +satisfied with his existence--not only that, he thinks death the +greatest glory that can befall him. Comfortable state of things +altogether! I'm half inclined to be an Odinite too." + +Sandy still remained lost in astonishment. "Then ye don't believe +that he made awa' wi' his wife?" he inquired slowly. + +"Not in the least!" returned Lorimer decidedly; "neither will you, +to-morrow, when you see him. He's a great deal better up in +literature than you are, my boy, I'd swear, judging from the books +he has. And when he mentioned his wife, as he did once, you could +see in his face he had never done HER any harm. Besides, his +daughter--" + +"Ah! but I forgot," interposed Duprez again. "The daughter, Thelma, +was the child the mysteriously vanished lady carried in her arms, +wandering with it all about the woods and hills. After her +disappearance, another thing extraordinary happens. The child also +disappears, and Monsieur Guldmar lives alone, avoided carefully by +every respectable person. Suddenly the child returns, grown to be +nearly a woman--and they say, lovely to an almost impossible +extreme. She lives with her father. She, like her strange mother, +never enters a church, town, or village--nowhere, in fact, where +persons are in any numbers. Three years ago, it appears, she +vanished again, but came back at the end of ten months, lovelier +than ever. Since then she has remained quiet--composed--but always +apart,--she may disappear at any moment. Droll, is it not, +Errington? and the reputation she has is natural!" + +"Pray state it," said Philip, with freezing coldness. "The +reputation of a woman is nothing nowadays. Fair game--go on!" + +But his face was pale, and his eyes blazed dangerously. Almost +unconsciously his hand toyed with the rose Thelma had given him, +that still ornamented his button-hole. + +"Mon Dieu!" cried Duprez in amazement. "But look not at me like +that! It seems to displease you, to put you en fureur, what I say! +It is not my story,--it is not I,--I know not Mademoiselle Guldmar. +But as her beauty is considered superhuman, they say it is the devil +who is her parfumeur, her coiffeur, and who sees after her +complexion; in brief, she is thought to be a witch in full practice, +dangerous to life and limb." + +Errington laughed loudly, he was so much relieved. + +"Is that all?" he said with light contempt. "By Jove! what a pack of +fools there must be about here,--ugly fools too, if they think +beauty is a sign of witchcraft. I wonder Dyceworthy isn't scared out +of his skin if he positively thinks the so-called witch is setting +her cap at him." + + "Ah, but he means to convairt her," said Macfarlane seriously. "To +draw the evil oot o' her, as it were. He said he wad do't by fair +means or foul." + +Something in these latter words struck Lorimer, for, raising himself +in his seat, he asked, "Surely Mr. Dyceworthy, with all his +stupidity, doesn't carry it so far as to believe in witchcraft?" + +"Oh, indeed he does," exclaimed Duprez; "he believes in it a la +lettre! He has Bible authority for his belief. He is very firm-- +firmest when drunk!" And he laughed gaily. + +Errington muttered something not very flattering to Mr. Dyceworthy's +intelligence, which escaped the hearing of his friends; then he +said-- + +"Come along, all of you, down into the saloon. We want something to +eat. Let the Guldmars alone; I'm not a bit sorry I've asked them to +come to-morrow. I believe you'll all like them immensely." + +They all descended the stair-way leading to the lower part of the +yacht, and Macfarlane asked as he followed his host-- + +"Is the lass vera bonnie did ye say?" + +"Bonnie's not the word for it this time," said Lorimer, coolly +answering instead of Errington. "Miss Guldmar is a magnificent +woman. You never saw such a one, Sandy, my boy; she'll make you sing +small with one look; she'll wither you up into a kippered herring! +And as for you, Duprez," and he regarded the little Frenchman +critically, "let me see,--you may possibly reach up to her +shoulder,--certainly not beyond it." + +"Pas possible!" cried Duprez. "Mademoiselle is a giantess." + +"She needn't be a giantess to overtop you, mon ami," laughed Lorimer +with a lazy shrug. "By Jove, I AM sleepy, Errington, old boy; are we +never going to bed? It's no good waiting till it's dark here, you +know." + +"Have something first," said Sir Philip, seating himself at the +saloon table, where his steward had laid out a tasty cold collation. +"We've had a good deal of climbing about and rowing; it's taken it +out of us a little." + +Thus hospitably adjured, they took their places, and managed to +dispose of an excellent supper. The meal concluded, Duprez helped +himself to a tiny liqueur glass of Chartreuse, as a wind-up to the +exertions of the day, a mild luxury in which the others joined him, +with the exception of Macfarlane, who was wont to declare that a +"mon without his whusky was nae mon at a'," and who, therefore, +persisted in burning up his interior mechanism with alcohol in spite +of the doctrines of hygiene, and was now absorbed in the work of +mixing his lemon, sugar, hot water, and poison--his usual +preparation for a night's rest. + +Lorimer, usually conversational, watched him in abstracted silence. +Rallied on this morose humor, he rose, shook himself like a +retriever, yawned, and sauntered to the piano that occupied a dim +corner of the saloon, and began to play with that delicate, subtle +touch, which, though it does not always mark the brilliant pianist, +distinguishes the true lover of music, to whose ears a rough thump +on the instrument, or a false note would be most exquisite agony. +Lorimer had no pretense to musical talent; asked, he confessed he +could "strum a little," and he seemed to see the evident wonder and +admiration he awakened in the minds of many to whom such "strumming" +as his was infinitely more delightful than more practiced, finished +playing. Just now he seemed undecided,--he commenced a dainty little +prelude of Chopin's, then broke suddenly off, and wandered into +another strain, wild, pleading, pitiful, and passionate,--a melody +so weird and dreamy that even the stolid Macfarlane paused in his +toddy-sipping, and Duprez looked round in some wonderment. + +"Comme c'est beau, ca!" he murmured. + +Errington said nothing; he recognized the tune as that which Thelma +had sung at her spinning-wheel, and his bold bright eyes grew +pensive and soft, as the picture of the fair face and form rose up +again before his mind. Absorbed in a reverie, he almost started when +Lorimer ceased playing, and said lightly-- + +"By-bye, boys! I'm off to bed! Phil, don't wake me so abominably +early as you did this morning. If you do, friendship can hold out no +longer--we must part!" + +"All right!" laughed Errington good-humoredly, watching his friend +as he sauntered out of the saloon; then seeing Duprez and Macfarlane +rise from the table, he added courteously, "Don't hurry away on +Lorimer's account, you two. I'm not in the least sleepy,--I'll sit +up with you to any hour." + +"It is droll to go to bed in broad daylight," said Duprez. "But it +must be done. Cher Philippe, your eyes are heavy. 'To bed, to bed,' +as the excellent Madame Macbeth says. Ah! quelle femme! What an +exciting wife she was for a man? Gome, let us follow our dear +Lorimer,--his music was delicious. Good night or good morning?. . . +I know not which it is in this strange land where the sun shines +always! It is confusing!" + +They shook hands and separated. Errington, however, unable to +compose his mind to rest, went into his cabin merely to come out of +it again and betake himself to the deck, where he decided to walk up +and down till he felt sleepy. He wished to be alone with his own +thoughts for awhile--to try and resolve the meaning of this strange +new emotion that possessed him,--a feeling that was half pleasing, +half painful, and that certainly moved him to a sort of shame. A +man, if he be strong and healthy, is always more or less ashamed +when Love, with a single effort, proves him to be weaker than a +blade of grass swaying in the wind, What! all his dignity, all his +resoluteness, all his authority swept down by the light touch of a +mere willow wand? for the very sake of his own manhood and self- +respect, he cannot help but be ashamed! It is as though a little +nude, laughing child mocked at a lion's strength, and made him a +helpless prisoner with a fragile daisy chain. So the god Eros begins +his battles, which end in perpetual victory,--first fear and shame,- +-then desire and passion,--then conquest and possession. And +afterwards? ah!. . . afterwards the pagan deity is powerless,--a +higher God, a grander force, a nobler creed must carry Love to its +supreme and best fulfillment. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + + "Le vent qui vient a travers la montagne + M'a rendu fou!" + + VICTOR HUGO. + + +It was half an hour past midnight. Sir Philip was left in absolute +solitude to enjoy his meditative stroll on deck, for the full +radiance of light that streamed over the sea and land was too clear +and brilliant to necessitate the attendance of any of the sailors +for the purpose of guarding the Eulalie. She was safely anchored and +distinctly visible to all boats or fishing craft crossing the Fjord, +so that unless a sudden gale should blow, which did not seem +probable in the present state of the weather, there was nothing for +the men to do that need deprive them of their lawful repose. +Errington paced up and down slowly, his yachting shoes making no +noise, even as they left no scratch on the spotless white deck, that +shone in the night sunshine like polished silver. The Fjord was very +calm,--on one side it gleamed like a pool of golden oil in which the +outline of the Eulalie was precisely traced, her delicate masts and +spars and drooping flag being drawn in black lines on the yellow +water as though with a finely pointed pencil. There was a curious +light in the western sky; a thick bank of clouds, dusky brown in +color, were swept together and piled one above the other in +mountainous ridges, that rose up perpendicularly from the very edge +of the sea-line, while over their dark summits a glimpse of the sun, +like a giant's eye, looked forth, darting dazzling descending rays +through the sullen smoke-like masses, tinging them with metallic +green and copper hues as brilliant and shifting as the bristling +points of lifted spears. Away to the south, a solitary wreath of +purple vapor floated slowly as though lost from some great mountain +height; and through its faint, half disguising veil the pale moon +peered sorrowfully, like a dying prisoner lamenting joy long past, +but unforgotten. + +A solemn silence reigned; and Errington, watching sea and sky, grew +more and more absorbed and serious. The scornful words of the proud +old Olaf Guldmar rankled in his mind and stung him. "An idle trifler +with time--an aimless wanderer!" Bitter, but, after all, true! He +looked back on his life with a feeling kin to contempt. What had he +done that was at all worth doing? He had seen to the proper +management of his estates,--well! any one with a grain of self- +respect and love of independence would do the same. He had travelled +and amused himself,--he had studied languages and literature,--he +had made many friends; but after all said and done, the bonde's +cutting observations had described him correctly enough. The do- +nothing, care-nothing tendency, common to the very wealthy in this +age, had crept upon him unconsciously; the easy, cool, indifferent +nonchalance common to men of his class and breeding was habitual +with him, and he had never thought it worth while to exert his +dormant abilities. Why then, should he now begin to think it was +time to reform all this,--to rouse himself to an effort,--to gain +for himself some honor, some distinction, some renown that should +mark him out as different to other men? why was he suddenly seized +with an insatiate desire to be something more than a mere "mushroom +knight, a fungus of nobility"--why? if not to make himself worthy +of--ah! There he had struck a suggestive key-note! Worthy of what? +of whom? There was no one in all the world, excepting perhaps +Lorimer, who cared what became of Sir Philip Errington, Baronet, in +the future, so long as he would, for the present, entertain and +feast his numerous acquaintances and give them all the advantages, +social and political, his wealth could so easily obtain. Then why, +in the name of well-bred indolence, should he muse with such +persistent gloom, on his general unworthiness at this particular +moment? Was it because this Norwegian maiden's grand blue eyes had +met his with such beautiful trust and candor? + +He had known many women, queens of society, titled beauties, +brilliant actresses, sirens of the world with all their witcheries +in full play, and he had never lost his self-possession or his +heart; with the loveliest of them he had always felt himself master +of the situation, knowing that, in their opinion he was always "a +catch," "an eligible," and, therefore, well worth winning. Now, for +the first time, he became aware of his utter insignificance,--this +tall, fair goddess knew none of the social slang--and her fair, pure +face, the mirror of a fair, pure soul, showed that the "eligibility" +of a man from a pecuniary point of view was a consideration that +would never present itself to her mind. What she would look at would +be the man himself,--not his pocket. And, studied from such an +exceptional height,--a height seldom climbed by modern marrying +women,--Philip felt himself unworthy. It was a good sign; there are +great hopes of any man who is honestly dissatisfied with himself. +Folding his arms, he leaned idly on the deck-rails, and looked +gravely and musingly down into the motionless water where the varied +lines of the sky were clearly mirrored,--when a slight creaking, +cracking sound was heard, as of some obstacle grazing against or +bumping the side of the yacht. He looked, and saw, to his surprise, +a small rowing boat close under the gunwale, so close indeed that +the slow motion of the tide heaved it every now and then into a +jerky collision with the lower framework of the Eulalie--a +circumstance which explained the sound which had attracted his +attention. The boat was not unoccupied--there was some one in it +lying straight across the seats, with face turned upwards to the +sky--and, walking noiselessly to a better post of observation, +Errington's heart beat with some excitement as he recognized the +long, fair, unkempt locks, and eccentric attire of the strange +personage who had confronted him in the cave--the crazy little man +who had called himself "Sigurd." There he was, beyond a doubt, lying +flat on his back with his eyes closed. Asleep or dead? He might have +been the latter,--his thin face was so pale and drawn,--his lips +were so set and colorless. Errington, astonished to see him there, +called softly-- + +"Sigurd! Sigurd!" There was no answer; Sigurd's form seemed +inanimate--his eyes remained fast shut. + +"Is he in a trance?" thought Sir Philip wonderingly; "or has he +fainted from some physical exhaustion?" + +He called again, but again received no reply. He now observed in the +stem of the boat a large bunch of pansies, dark as velvet, and +evidently freshly gathered,--proving that Sigurd had been wandering +in the deep valleys and on the sloping sides of the hills, where +these flowers may be frequently found in Norway during the summer. +He began to feel rather uncomfortable, as he watched that straight +stiff figure in the boat, and was just about to swing down the +companion-ladder for the purpose of closer inspection, when a +glorious burst of light streamed radiantly over the Fjord,--the sun +conquered the masses of dark cloud that had striven to conceal his +beauty, and now,--like a warrior clad in golden armor, surmounted +and trod down his enemies, shining forth in all his splendor. With +that rush of brilliant effulgence, the apparently lifeless Sigurd +stirred,--he opened his eyes, and as they were turned upwards, he +naturally, from his close vicinity to the side of the Eulalie, met +Errington's gaze fixed inquiringly and somewhat anxiously upon him. +He sprang up with such sudden and fierce haste that his frail boat +rocked dangerously and Philip involuntarily cried out-- + +"Take care!" + +Sigurd stood upright in his swaying skiff and laughed scornfully. + +"Take care!" he echoed derisively. "It is you who should take care! +You,--poor miserable moth on the edge of a mad storm! It is you to +fear--not I! See how the light rains over the broad sky. All for me! +Yes, all the light, all the glory for me; all the darkness, all the +shame for you!" + +Errington listened to these ravings with an air of patience and +pitying gentleness, then he said with perfect coolness-- + +"You are quite right, Sigurd! You are always right, I am sure. Come +up here and see me; I won't hurt you! Come along!" + +The friendly tone and gentle manner appeared to soothe the unhappy +dwarf, for he stared doubtfully, then smiled,--and finally, as +though acting under a spell, he took up an oar and propelled himself +skillfully enough to the gangway, where Errington let down the +ladder and with his own hand assisted his visitor to mount, not +forgetting to fasten the boat safely to the steps as he did so. Once +on deck, Sigurd gazed about him perplexedly. He had brought his +bunch of pansies with him, and he fingered their soft leaves +thoughtfully. Suddenly his eyes flashed. + +"You are alone here?" he asked abruptly. + +Fearing to scare his strange guest by the mention of his companions, +Errington answered simply--"Yes, quite alone just now, Sigurd." + +Sigurd took a step closer towards him. "Are you not afraid?" he said +in an awe-struck, solemn voice. + +Sir Philip smiled. "I never was afraid of anything in my life!" he +answered. + +The dwarf eyed him keenly. "You are not afraid," he went on, "that I +shall kill you?" + +"Not in the least," returned Errington calmly. "You would not do +anything so foolish, my friend." + +Sigurd laughed. "Ha ha! You call me 'friend.' You think that word a +safeguard! I tell you, no! There are no friends now; the world is a +great field of battle,--each man fights the other. There is no +peace,--none anywhere! The wind fights with the forests; you can +hear them slashing and slaying all night long--when it IS night--the +long, long night! The sun fights with the sky, the light with the +dark, and life with death. It is all a bitter quarrel; none are +satisfied, none shall know friendship any more; it is too late! We +cannot be friends!" + +"Well, have it your own way," said Philip good-naturedly, wishing +that Lorimer were awake to interview this strange specimen of human +wit gone astray; "we'll fight if you like. Anything to please you!" + +"We ARE fighting," said Sigurd with intense passion in his voice. +"You may not know it; but I know it! I have felt the thrust of your +sword; it has crossed mine. Stay!" and his eyes grew vague and +dreamy. "Why was I sent to seek you out--let me think--let me +think!" + +And he seated himself forlornly on one of the deck chairs and seemed +painfully endeavoring to put his scattered ideas in order. Errington +studied him with a gentle forbearance; inwardly he was very curious +to know whether this Sigurd had any connection with the Guldmars, +but he refrained from asking too many questions. He simply said in a +cheery tone-- + +"Yes, Sigurd,--why did you come to see me? I'm glad you did; it's +very kind of you, but I don't think you even know my name." + +To his surprise, Sigurd looked up with a more settled and resolved +expression of face, and answered almost as connectedly as any sane +man could have done. + +"I know your name very well," he said in a low composed manner. "You +are Sir Philip Errington, a rich English nobleman. Fate led you to +HER grave--a grave that no strange feet have ever passed, save +yours--and so I know you are the man for whom her spirit has +waited,--she has brought you hither. How foolish to think she sleeps +under the stone, when she is always awake and busy,--always at work +opposing me! Yes, though I pray her to lie still, she will not!" + +His voice grew wild again, and Philip asked quietly-- + +"Of whom are you speaking, Sigurd?" + +His steady tone seemed to have some compelling influence on the +confused mind of the half-witted creature, who answered readily and +at once-- + +"Of whom should I speak but Thelma? Thelma, the beautiful rose of +the northern forest--Thelma--" + +He broke off abruptly with a long shuddering sigh, and rocking +himself drearily to and fro, gazed wistfully out to the sea. +Errington hazarded a guess as to the purpose of that coffin hidden +in the shell cavern. + +"Do you mean Thelma living?. . . or Thelma dead?" + +"Both," answered Sigurd promptly. "They are one and the same,--you +cannot part them. Mother and child,--rose and rosebud! One walks the +earth with the step of a queen, the other floats in the air like a +silvery cloud; but I see them join and embrace and melt into each +other's arms till they unite in one form, fairer than the beauty of +angels! And you--you know this as well as I do--you have seen +Thelma, you have kissed the cup of friendship with her; but +remember!--not with me--not with me!" + +He started from his seat, and, running close up to Errington, laid +one meagre hand on his chest. + +"How strong you are, how broad and brave," he exclaimed with a sort +of childish admiration. "And can you not be generous too?" + +Errington looked down upon him compassionately. He had learned +enough from his incoherent talk to clear up what had seemed a +mystery. The scandalous reports concerning Olaf Guldmar were +incorrect,--he had evidently laid the remains of his wife in the +shell-cavern, for some reason connected with his religious belief, +and Thelma's visits to the sacred spot were now easy of +comprehension. No doubt it was she who placed fresh flowers there +every day, and kept the little lamp burning before the crucifix as a +sign of the faith her departed mother had professed, and which she +herself followed. But who was Sigurd, and what was he to the +Guldmars? Thinking this, he replied to the dwarf's question by a +counter-inquiry. + +"How shall I be generous, Sigurd? Tell me! What can I do to please +you?" + +Sigurd's wild blue eyes sparkled with pleasure. + +"Do!" he cried. "You can go away, swiftly, swiftly, over the seas, +and the Altenfjord need know you no more! Spread your white sails!" +and he pointed excitedly up to the tall tapering masts of the +Eulalie. "You are king here. Command and you are obeyed! Go from us, +go! What is there here to delay you? Our mountains are dark and +gloomy,--the fields are wild and desolate,--there are rocks, +glaciers and shrieking torrents that hiss like serpents gliding into +the sea! Oh, there must be fairer lands than this one,--lands where +oceans and sky are like twin jewels set in one ring,--where there +are sweet flowers and fruits and bright eyes to smile on you all +day--yes! for you are as a god in your strength and beauty--no woman +will be cruel to YOU! Ah! say you will go away!" and Sigurd's face +was transfigured into a sort of pained beauty as he made his appeal. +"That is what I came to seek you for,--to ask you to set sail +quickly and go, for why should you wish to destroy me? I have done +you no harm as yet. Go!--and Odin himself shall follow your path +with blessings!" + + He paused, almost breathless with his own earnest pleading. +Errington was silent. He considered the request a mere proof of the +poor creature's disorder. The very idea that Sigurd seemed to +entertain of his doing him any harm, showed a reasonless terror and +foreboding that was simply to be set down as caused by his +unfortunate mental condition. To such an appeal there could be no +satisfactory reply. To sail away from the Altenfjord and its now +most fascinating attractions, because a madman asked him to do so, +was a proposition impossible of acceptance, so Sir Philip said +nothing. Sigurd, however, watching his face intently, saw, or +thought he saw, a look of resolution in the Englishman's clear, deep +grey eyes,--and with the startling quickness common to many whose +brains, like musical instruments, are jarred, yet not quite +unstrung, he grasped the meaning of that expression instantly. + +"Ah! cruel and traitorous!" he exclaimed fiercely. "You will not go; +you are resolved to tear my heart out for your sport! I have pleaded +with you as one pleads with a king and all in vain--all in vain! You +will not go? Listen, see what you will do," and he held up the bunch +of purple pansies, while his voice sank to an almost feeble +faintness. "Look!" and he fingered the flowers, "look!. . . they are +dark and soft as a purple sky,--cool and dewy and fresh;--they are +the thoughts of Thelma; such thoughts! So wise and earnest, so pure +and full of tender shadows!--no hand has grasped them rudely, no +rough touch has spoiled their smoothness! They open full-faced to +the sky, they never droop or languish; they have no secrets, save +the marvel of their beauty. Now you have come, you will have no +pity,--one by one you will gather and play with her thoughts as +though they were these blossoms,--your burning hand will mar their +color,--they will wither and furl up and die, all of them,--and +you,--what will you care? Nothing! no man ever cares for a flower +that is withered,--not even though his own hand slew it." + +The intense melancholy that vibrated through Sigurd's voice touched +his listener profoundly. Dimly he guessed that the stricken soul +before him had formed the erroneous idea that he, Errington, had +come to do some great wrong to Thelma or her belongings, and he +pitied the poor creature for his foolish self-torture. + +"Listen to me, Sigurd," he said, with a certain imperativeness; "I +cannot promise you to go away, but I can promise that I will do no +harm to you or to--to--Thelma. Will that content you?" + +Sigurd smiled vacantly and shook his head. He looked at the pansies +wistfully and laid them down very gently on one of the deck benches. + +"I must go," he said in a faint voice:--"She is calling me." + +"Who is calling you?" demanded Errington astonished. + +"She is," persisted Sigurd, walking steadily to the gangway. "I can +hear her! There are the roses to water, and the doves to feed, and +many other things." He looked steadily at Sir Philip, who, seeing he +was bent on departure, assisted him to descend the companion ladder +into his little boat. "You are sure you will not sail away?" + +Errington balanced himself lightly on the ladder and smiled. + +"I am sure, Sigurd! I have no wish to sail away. Are you all right +there?" + +He spoke cheerily, feeling in his own mind that it was scarcely safe +for a madman to be quite alone in a cockle-shell of a boat on a deep +Fjord, the shores of which were indented with dangerous rocks as +sharp as the bristling teeth of fabled sea-monsters, but Sigurd +answered him almost contemptuously. + +"All right!" he echoed. "That is what the English say always. All +right! As if it were ever wrong with me, and the sea! We know each +other,--we do each other no harm. YOU may die on the sea, but _I_ +shall not! No, there is another way to Valhalla!" + +"Oh, I dare say there are no end of ways," said Errington good- +temperedly, still poising himself on the ladder, and holding on to +the side of his yacht, as he watched his late visitor take the oars +and move off. "Good-bye, Sigurd! Take care of yourself! Hope I shall +see you again soon." + +But Sigurd replied not. Bending to the oars, he rowed swiftly and +strongly, and Sir Philip, pulling up the ladder and closing the +gangway, saw the little skiff flying over the water like a bird in +the direction of the Guldmar's landing-place. He wondered again and +again what relationship, if any, this half-crazed being bore to the +bonde and his daughter. That he knew all about them was pretty +evident; but how? Catching sight of the pansies left on the deck +bench, Errington took them, and, descending to the saloon, set them +on the table in a tumbler of water. + +"Thelma's thoughts, the poor little fellow called them," he mused, +with a smile. "A pretty fancy of his, and linked with the crazy +imaginings of Ophelia too. 'There's pansies, that's for thoughts,' +SHE said, but Sigurd's idea is different; he believes they are +Thelma's own thoughts in flower. 'No rough touch has spoiled their +smoothness,' he declared; he's right there, I'm sure. And shall I +ruffle the sweet leaves; shall I crush the tender petals? or shall I +simply transform them, from pansies into roses,--from the dream of +love,--into love itself?" + +His eyes softened as he glanced at the drooping rose he wore, which +Thelma herself had given him, and as he went to his sleeping cabin, +he carefully detached it from his button-hole, and taking down a +book,--one which he greatly prized, because it had belonged to his +mother,--he prepared to press the flower within its leaves. It was +the "Imitation of Christ," bound quaintly and fastened with silver +clasps, and as he was about to lay his fragrant trophy on the first +page that opened naturally of itself, he glanced at the words that +there presented themselves to his eyes. + +"Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing stronger, nothing higher, +nothing wider, nothing more pleasant, nothing fuller or better in +heaven or in earth!" And with a smile and a warmer flush of color +than usual on his handsome face, he touched the rose lightly yet +tenderly with his lips and shut it reverently within its sacred +resting-place. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +"Our manners are infinitely corrupted, and wonderfully incline to +the worse; of our customs there are many barbarous and monstrous." + + MONTAIGNE. + + +The next day was very warm and bright, and that pious Lutheran +divine, the Reverend Charles Dyceworthy, was seriously encumbered by +his own surplus flesh material as he wearily rowed himself across +the Fjord towards Olaf Guldmar's private pier. As the perspiration +bedewed his brow, he felt that Heaven had dealt with him somewhat +too liberally in the way of fat--he was provided too amply with it +ever to excel as an oarsman. The sun was burning hot, the water was +smooth as oil, and very weighty--it seemed to resist every stroke of +his clumsily wielded blades. Altogether it was hard, uncongenial +work,--and, being rendered somewhat flabby and nerveless by his +previous evening's carouse with Macfarlane's whisky, Mr. Dyceworthy +was in a plaintive and injured frame of mind, he was bound on a +mission--a holy and edifying errand, which would have elevated any +minister of his particular sect. He had found a crucifix with the +name of Thelma engraved thereon,--he was now about to return it to +the evident rightful owner, and in returning it, he purposed +denouncing it as an emblem of the "Scarlet Woman, that sitteth on +the Seven Hills," and threatening all those who dared to hold it +sacred, as doomed to eternal torture, "where the worm dieth not." He +had thought over all he meant to say; he had planned several +eloquent and rounded sentences, some of which he murmured placidly +to himself as he propelled his slow boat along. + +"Yea!" he observed in a mild sotto-voce--"ye shall be cut off root +and branch! Ye shall be scorched even as stubble,--and utterly +destroyed." Here he paused and mopped his streaming forehead with +his clean perfumed handkerchief. "Yea!" he resumed peacefully, "the +worshippers of idolatrous images are accursed; they shall have ashes +for food and gall for drink! Let them turn and repent themselves, +lest the wrath of God consume them as straw whirled on the wind. +Repent!. . . or ye shall be cast into everlasting fire. Beauty shall +avail not, learning shall avail not, meekness shall avail not; for +the fire of hell is a searching, endless, destroying--" here Mr. +Dyceworthy, by plunging one oar with too much determination into the +watery depths, caught a crab, as the saying is, and fell violently +backward in a somewhat undignified posture. Recovering himself +slowly, he looked about him in a bewildered way, and for the first +time noticed the vacant, solitary appearance of the Fjord. Some +object was missing; he realized what it was immediately--the English +yacht Eulalie was gone from her point of anchorage. + +"Dear me!" said Mr. Dyceworthy, half aloud, "what a very sudden +departure! I wonder, now, if those young men have gone for good, or +whether they are coming back again? Pleasant fellows, very pleasant! +flippant, perhaps, but pleasant." + +And he smiled benevolently. He had no remembrance of what had +occurred, after he had emptied young Macfarlane's flask of +Glenlivet; he had no idea that he had been almost carried from his +garden into his parlor, and there flung on the sofa and left to +sleep off the effects of his strong tipple; least of all did he +dream that he had betrayed any of his intentions towards Thelma +Guldmar, or given his religious opinions with such free and +undisguised candor. Blissfully ignorant on these points, he resumed +his refractory oars, and after nearly an hour of laborious effort, +succeeded at last in reaching his destination. Arrived at the little +pier, he fastened up his boat, and with the lofty air of a +thoroughly moral man, he walked deliberately up to the door of the +bonde's house. Contrary to custom, it was closed, and the place +seemed strangely silent and deserted. The afternoon heat was so +great that the song-birds were hushed, and in hiding under the cool +green leaves,--the clambering roses round the porch hung down their +bright heads for sheer faintness,--and the only sounds to be heard +were the subdued coo-cooing of the doves on the roof and the soft +trickling rush of a little mountain stream that flowed through the +grounds. Some what surprised, though not abashed, at the evident +"not-at-home" look of the farm-house, Mr. Dyceworthy rapped loudly +at the rough oaken door with his knuckles, there being no such +modern convenience as a bell or a knocker. He waited sometime before +he was answered, repeating his summons violently at frequent +intervals, and swearing irreligiously under his breath as he did so. +But at last the door was flung sharply open, and the tangle-haired, +rosy-cheeked Britta confronted him with an aspect which was by no +means encouraging or polite. Her round blue eyes sparkled saucily, +and she placed her bare, plump, red arms, wet with recent soapsuds, +akimbo on her sturdy little hips, with an air that was decidedly +impertinent. + +"Well, what do you want?" she demanded with rude abruptness. + +Mr. Dyceworthy regarded her in speechless dignity. Vouchsafing no +reply, he attempted to pass her and enter the house. But Britta +settled her arms more defiantly than ever, and her voice had a +sharper ring as she said-- + +"It's no use your coming in! There's no one here but me. The master +has gone out for the day." + +"Young woman," returned Mr. Dyceworthy with polite severity, "I +regret to see that your manners stand in sore need of improvement. +Your master's absence is of no importance to me. It is with the +Froken Thelma I desire to speak." + +Britta laughed and tossed her rough brown curls back from her +forehead. Mischievous dimples came and went at the corners of her +mouth--indications of suppressed fun. + +"The Froken is out too," she said demurely. "It's time she had a +little amusement; and the gentlemen treat her as if she were a +queen!" + +Mr. Dyceworthy started, and his red visage became a trifle paler. + +"Gentlemen? What gentlemen?" he demanded with some impatience. + +Britta's inward delight evidently increased. + +"The gentlemen from the yacht, of course," she said. "What other +GENTLEMEN are there?" This with a contemptuous up-and-down sort of +look at the Lutheran minister's portly form. "Sir Philip Errington +was here with his friend yesterday evening and stayed a long time-- +and today a fine boat with four oars came to fetch the master and +Froken Thelma, and they are all gone for a sail to the Kaa Fjord or +some other place near here--I cannot remember the name. And I am SO +glad!" went on Britta, clasping her plump hands in ecstasy. "They +are the grandest, handsomest Herren I have ever seen, and one can +tell they think wonders of the Froken--nothing is too good for her!" + +Mr. Dyceworthy's face was the picture of dismay. This was a new turn +to the course of events, and one, more over, that he had never once +contemplated. Britta watched him amusedly. + +"Will you leave any message for them when they return?" she asked. + +"No," said the minister dubiously. "Yet, stay; yes! I will! Tell the +Froken that I have found something which belongs to her, and that +when she wishes to have it, I will myself bring it." + +Britta looked cross. "If it is hers you have no business to keep +it," she said brusquely. "Why not leave it,--whatever it is,--with +me?" + +Mr. Dyceworthy regarded her with a bland and lofty air. + +"I trust no concerns of mine or hers to the keeping of a paid +domestic," he said. "A domestic, moreover, who deserts the ways of +her own people,--who hath dealings with the dwellers in darkness,-- +who even bringeth herself to forget much of her own native tongue, +and who devoteth herself to--" + +What he would have said was uncertain, as at that moment he was +nearly thrown down by a something that slipped agilely between his +legs, pinching each fat calf as it passed--a something that looked +like a ball, but proved to be a human creature--no other than the +crazy Sigurd, who, after accomplishing his uncouth gambol +successfully, stood up, shaking back his streaming fair locks and +laughing wildly. + +"Ha, ha!" he exclaimed. "That was good; that was clever! If I had +upset you now, you would have said your prayers backward! What are +you here for? This is no place for you! They are all gone out of it. +SHE has gone--all the world is empty! There is nothing any where but +air, air, air!--no birds, no flowers, no trees, no sunshine! All +gone with her on the sparkling, singing water!" and he swung his +arms round violently, and snapped his fingers in the minister's +face. "What an ugly man your are!" he exclaimed with refreshing +candor. "I think you are uglier than I am! You are straight,--but +you are like a load of peat--heavy and barren and fit to burn. Now, +I--I am the crooked bough of a tree, but I have bright leaves where +a bird hides and sings all day! You--you have no song, no foliage; +only ugly and barren and fit to burn!" He laughed heartily, and, +catching sight of Britta, where she stood in the doorway entirely +unconcerned at his eccentric behavior, he went up to her and took +hold of the corner of her apron. "Take me in, Britta dear--pretty +Britta!" he said coaxingly. "Sigurd is hungry! Britta, sweet little +Britta,--come and talk to me and sing! Good-bye, fat man!" he added +suddenly, turning round once more on Dyceworthy. "You will never +overtake the big ship that has gone away with Thelma over the water. +Thelma will come back,--yes!. . . .but one day she will go never to +come back." He dropped his voice to a mysterious whisper. "Last +night I saw a little spirit come out of a rose,--he carried a tiny +golden hammer and nail, and a ball of cord like a rolled-up sunbeam. +He flew away so quickly I could not follow him; but I know where he +went! He fastened the nail in the heart of Thelma, deeply, so that +the little drops of blood flowed,--but she felt no pain; and then he +tied the golden cord to the nail and left her, carrying the other +end of the string with him--to whom? Some other heart must be +pierced! Whose heart?" Sigurd looked infinitely cunning as well as +melancholy, and sighed deeply. + +The Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy was impatient and disgusted. + +"It is a pity," he said with an air of solemn patience, "that this +hapless creature, accursed of God and man, is not placed in some +proper abode suitable to the treatment of his affliction. You, +Britta, as the favored servant of a--a--well, let us say, of a +peculiar mistress, should persuade her to send this--this--person +away, lest his vagaries become harmful." + +Britta glanced very kindly at Sigurd, who still held her apron with +the air of a trustful child. + +"He's no more harmful than you are," she said promptly, in answer to +the minister's remark. "He's a good fellow and if he talks strangely +he can make himself useful,--which is more than can be said of +certain people. He can saw and chop the wood, make hay, feed the +cattle, pull a strong oar, and sweep and keep the garden,--can't +you, Sigurd?" She laid her hand on Sigurd's shoulder, and he nodded +his head emphatically, as she enumerated his different talents. "And +as for climbing,--he can guide you anywhere over the hills, or up +the streams to the big waterfalls--no one better. And if you mean by +peculiar,--that my mistress is different to other people, why, I +know she is, and am glad of it,--at any rate, she's a great deal too +kind-hearted to shut this poor boy up in a house for madmen! He'd +die if he couldn't have the fresh air." She paused, out of breath +with her rapid utterance, and Mr. Dyceworthy held up his hands in +dignified astonishment. + +"You talk too glibly, young woman," he said. "It is necessary that I +should instruct you without loss of time, as to how you should be +sparing of your words in the presence of your superiors and +betters--" + +Bang! The door was closed with a decision that sent a sharp echo +through the silent, heated air, and Mr. Dyceworthy was left to +contemplate it at his leisure. Full of wrath, he was about to knock +peremptorily and insist that it should be re-opened; but on second +thoughts he decided that it was beneath his dignity to argue with a +servant, much less with a declared lunatic like Sigurd,--so he made +the best of his way back to his boat, thinking gloomily of the hard +labor awaiting him in the long pull back to Bosekop. + +Other thoughts, too, tortured and harrassed his brain, and as he +again took the oars and plied them wearily through the water, he was +in an exceedingly unchristian humor. Though a specious hypocrite, he +was no fool. He knew the ways of men and women, and he thoroughly +realized the present position of affairs. He was quite aware of +Thelma Guldmar's exceptional beauty,--and he felt pretty certain +that no man could look upon her without admiration. But up to this +time, she had been, as it were, secluded from all eyes,--a few +haymakers and fishermen were the only persons of the male sex who +had ever been within the precincts of Olaf Guldmar's dwelling, with +the exception of himself, Dyceworthy,--who, being armed with a +letter of introduction from the actual minister of Bosekop, whose +place, he, for the present, filled, had intruded his company +frequently and persistently on the bonde and his daughter, though he +knew himself to be entirely unwelcome. He had gathered together as +much as he could, all the scraps of information concerning them; how +Olaf Guldmar was credited with having made away with his wife by +foul means; how nobody even knew where his wife had come from; how +Thelma had been mysteriously educated, and had learned strange +things concerning foreign lands, which no one else in the place +understood anything about; how she was reputed to be a witch, and +was believed to have cast her spells on the unhappy Sigurd, to the +destruction of his reason,--and how nobody could tell where Sigurd +himself had come from. + +All this Mr. Dyceworthy had heard with much interest, and as the +sensual part of his nature was always more or less predominant, ho +had resolved in his own mind that here was a field of action +suitable to his abilities. To tame and break the evil spirit in the +reputed witch; to convert her to the holy and edifying Lutheran +faith; to save her soul for the Lord, and take her beautiful body +for himself; these were Mr. Dyceworthy's laudable ambitions. There +was no rival to oppose him, and he had plenty of time to mature his +plans. So he had thought. He had not bargained for the appearance of +Sir Philip Bruce Errington on the scene,--a man, young, handsome, +and well-bred, with vast wealth to back up his pretensions, should +he make any. + +"How did he find her out?" thought the Reverend Charles, as he +dolefully pulled his craft along. "And that brutal pagan Guldmar, +too, who pretends he cannot endure strangers!" + +And as he meditated, a flush of righteous indignation crimsoned his +flabby features. + +"Let her take care," he half muttered, with a smile that was not +pleasant; "let her take care! There are more ways than one to bring +down her pride! Sir Philip Errington must be too rich and popular in +his own country to think of wishing to marry a girl who is only a +farmer's daughter after all. He may trifle with her; yes!. . . and +he will help me by so doing. The more mud on her name, the better +for me; the more disgrace, the more need of rescue, and the more +grateful she will have to be. Just a word to Ulrika,--and the +scandal will spread. Patience, patience!" + +And somewhat cheered by his own reflections, though still wearing an +air of offended dignity, he rowed on, glancing up every now and then +to see if the Eulalie had returned, but her place was still empty. + +Meanwhile, as he thought and planned, other thoughts and plans were +being discussed at a meeting which was held in a little ruined stone +hut, situated behind some trees on a dreary hill just outside +Bosekop. It was a miserable place, barren of foliage,--the ground +was dry and yellow, and the hut itself looked as if it had been +struck by lightning. The friends, whose taste had led them to select +this dilapidated dwelling as a place of conference, were two in +number, both women,--one of them no other than the minister's +servant, the drear-faced Ulrika. She was crouched on the earth-floor +in an attitude of utter abasement, at the feet of her companion,--an +aged dame of tall and imposing appearance, who, standing erect, +looked down upon her with an air of mingled contempt and +malevolence. The hut was rather dark, for the roof was not +sufficiently destroyed to have the advantage of being open to the +sky. The sunlight fell through holes of different shapes and sizes,- +-one specially bright patch of radiance illumining the stately form, +and strongly marked, though withered features of the elder woman, +whose eyes, deeply sunken in her head, glittered with a hawk-like +and evil lustre, as they rested on the prostrate figure before her. +When she spoke, her accents were harsh and commanding. + +"How long?" she said, "how long must I wait? How long must I watch +the work of Satan in the land? The fields are barren and will not +bring forth; the curse of bitter poverty is upon us all: and only +he, the pagan Guldmar, prospers and gathers in harvest, while all +around him starve! Do I not know the devil's work when I see it,--I, +the chosen servant of the Lord?" And she struck a tall staff she +held violently into the ground to emphasize her words. "Am I not +left deserted in my age? The child Britta,--sole daughter of my sole +daughter,--is she not stolen, and kept from me? Has not her heart +been utterly turned away from mine? All through that vile witch,-- +accursed of God and man! She it is who casts the blight on our land; +she it is who makes the hands and hearts of our men heavy and +careless, so that even luck has left the fishing; and yet you +hesitate,--you delay, you will not fulfill your promise! I tell you, +there are those in Bosekop who, at my bidding, would cast her naked +into the Fjord, leave her there, to sink or swim according to her +nature!" + +"I know," murmured Ulrika humbly, raising herself slightly from her +kneeling posture; "I know it well!. . . . but, good Lovisa, be +patient! I work for the best! Mr. Dyceworthy will do more for us +than we can do for ourselves; he is wise and cautious--" + +Lovisa interrupted her with a fierce gesture. "Fool!" she cried. +"What need of caution? A witch is a witch, burn her, drown her! +There is no other remedy! But two days since, the child of my +neighbor Engla passed her on the Fjord; and now the boy has sickened +of some strange disease, and 'tis said he will die. Again, the drove +of cattle owned by Hildmar Bjorn were herded home when she passed +by. Now they are seized by the murrain plague! Tell your good saint +Dyceworthy these things; if he can find no cure, _I_ can,--and +WILL!" + +Ulrika shuddered slightly as she rose from the ground and stood +erect, drawing her shawl closely about her. + +"You hate her so much, Lovisa?" she asked, almost timidly. + +Lovisa's face darkened, and her yellow, claw-like hand closed round +her strong staff in a cruel and threatening manner. + +"Hate her!" she muttered, "I have hated her ever since she was born! +I hated her mother before her! A nest of devils, every one of them; +and the curse will always be upon us while they dwell here." + +She paused and looked at Ulrika steadily. + +"Remember!" she said, with an evil leer on her lips, "I hold a +secret of yours that is worth the keeping! I give you two weeks +more; within that time you must act! Destroy the witch,--bring back +to me my grandchild Britta, or else--it will be MY turn!" + +And she laughed silently. Ulrika's face grew paler, and the hand +that grasped the folds of her shawl trembled violently. She made an +effort, however, to appear composed, as she answered--"I have sworn +to obey you, Lovisa,--and I will. But tell me one thing--how do you +know that Thelma Guldmar is indeed a witch?" + +"How do I know?" almost yelled Lovisa. "Have I lived all these years +for nothing? Look at her! Am _I_ like her? Are YOU like her? Are any +of the honest women of the neighborhood like her? Meet her on the +hills with knives and pins,--prick her, and see if the blood will +flow! I swear it will not--not one drop! Her skin is too white; +there is no blood in those veins--only fire! Look at the pink in her +cheeks,--the transparency of her flesh,--the glittering light in her +eyes, the gold of her hair, it is all devil's work, it is not human, +it is not natural! I have watched her,--I used to watch her mother, +and curse her every time I saw her--ay! curse her till I was +breathless with cursing--" + +She stopped abruptly. Ulrika gazed at her with as much wonder as her +plain, heavy face was capable of expressing. Lovisa saw the look and +smiled darkly. + +"One would think YOU had never known what love is!" she said, with a +sort of grim satire in her tone. "Yet even your dull soul was on +fire once! But I--when I was young, I had beauty such as you never +had, and I loved--Olaf Guldmar." + +Ulrika uttered an exclamation of astonishment. "You! and yet you +hate him now?" + +Lovisa raised her hand with an imperious gesture. + +"I have grown hate like a flower in my breast," she said, with a +sort of stern impressiveness. "I have fostered it year after year, +and now,--it has grown too strong for me! When Olaf Guldmar was +young he told me I was fair; once he kissed my cheek at parting! For +those words,--for that kiss,--I loved him then--for the same things +I hate him now! When I know he had married, I cursed him; on the day +of my own marriage with a man I despised, I cursed him! I have +followed him and all his surroundings with more curses than there +are hours in the day! I have had some little revenge--yes!"--and she +laughed grimly--"but I want more! For Britta has been caught by his +daughter's evil spell. Britta is mine, and I must have her back. +Understand me well!--do what you have to do without delay! Surely it +is an easy thing to ruin a woman!" + +Ulrika stood as though absorbed in meditation, and said nothing for +some moments. At last she murmured as though to herself-- + +"Mr. Dyceworthy could do much--if--" + +"Ask him, then," said Lovisa imperatively. "Tell him the village is +in fear of her. Tell him that if he will do nothing WE will. And if +all fails, come to me again; and remember!. . . I shall not only +act,--I shall SPEAK!" + +And emphasizing the last word as a sort of threat, she turned and +strode out of the hut. + +Ulrika followed more slowly, taking a different direction to that in +which her late companion was seen rapidly disappearing. On returning +to the minister's dwelling, she found that Mr. Dyceworthy had not +yet come back from his boating excursion. She gave no explanation of +her absence to her two fellow-servants, but went straight up to her +own room--a bare attic in the roof--where she deliberately took off +her dress and bared her shoulders and breast. Then she knelt down on +the rough boards, and clasping her hands, began to writhe and +wrestle as though she were seized with a sudden convulsion. She +groaned and tortured the tears from her eyes; she pinched her own +flesh till it was black and blue, and scratched it with her nails +till it bled,--and she prayed inaudibly, but with evident +desperation. Sometimes her gestures were frantic, sometimes +appealing; but she made no noise that was loud enough to attract +attention from any of the dwellers in the house. Her stolid features +were contorted with anguish,--and had she been an erring nun of the +creed she held in such bitter abhorrence, who, for some untold +crime, endured a self-imposed penance, she could not have punished +her own flesh much more severely. + +She remained some quarter of an hour or twenty minutes thus; then +rising from her knees, she wiped the tears from her eyes and re- +clothed herself,--and with her usual calm, immovable aspect--though +smarting from the injuries she had inflicted on herself--she +descended to the kitchen, there to prepare Mr. Dyceworthy's tea with +all the punctilious care and nicety befitting the meal of so good a +man and so perfect a saint. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +"She believed that by dealing nobly with all, all would show +themselves noble; so that whatsoever she did became her." + + HAFIZ. + +As the afternoon lengthened, and the sun lowered his glittering +shield towards that part of the horizon where he rested a brief +while without setting, the Eulalie,--her white sails spread to the +cool, refreshing breeze,--swept gracefully and swiftly back to her +old place on the Fjord, and her anchor dropped with musical clank +and splash, just as Mr. Dyceworthy entered his house, fatigued, +perspiring, and ill-tempered at the non-success of his day. All on +board the yacht were at dinner--a dinner of the most tasteful and +elegant description, such as Sir Philip Errington well knew how to +order and superintend, and Thelma, leaning against the violet velvet +cushions that were piled behind her for her greater ease, looked,-- +as she indeed was,--the veritable queen of the feast. Macfarlane and +Duprez had been rendered astonished and bashful by her excessive +beauty. From the moment she came on board with her father, clad in +her simple white gown, with a deep crimson hood drawn over her fair +hair, and tied under her rounded chin, she had taken them all +captive--they were her abject slaves in heart, though they put on +very creditable airs of manly independence and nonchalance. Each man +in his different way strove to amuse or interest her, except, +strange to say, Errington himself, who, though deeply courteous to +her, kept somewhat in the background and appeared more anxious to +render himself agreeable to old Olaf Guldmar, than to win the good +graces of his lovely daughter. The girl was delighted with +everything on board the yacht,--she admired its elegance and luxury +with child-like enthusiasm; she gloried in the speed with which its +glittering prow cleaved the waters; she clapped her hands at the +hiss of the white foam as it split into a creaming pathway for the +rushing vessel; and she was so unaffected and graceful in all her +actions and attitudes, that the slow blood of the cautious +Macfarlane began to warm up by degrees to a most unwonted heat of +admiration. When she had first arrived, Errington, in receiving her, +had seriously apologized for not having some lady to meet her, but +she seemed not to understand his meaning. Her naive smile and +frankly uplifted eyes put all his suddenly conceived notions of +social stiffness to flight. + +"Why should a lady come?" she asked sweetly. "It is not necessary?. +. . ." + +"Of course it isn't!" said Lorimer promptly and delightedly. "I am +sure we shall be able to amuse you, Miss Guldmar." + +"Oh,--for that!" she replied, with a little shrug that had something +French about it, "I amuse myself always! I am amused now,--you must +not trouble yourselves!" + +As she was introduced to Duprez and Macfarlane, she gave them each a +quaint, sweeping curtsy, which had the effect of making them feel +the most ungainly lumbersome fellows on the face of the earth. +Macfarlane grew secretly enraged at the length of his legs,--while +Pierre Duprez, though his bow was entirely Parisian, decided in his +own mind that it was jerky, and not good style. She was perfectly +unembarrassed with all the young men; she laughed at their jokes, +and turned her glorious eyes full on them with the unabashed +sweetness of innocence; she listened to the accounts they gave her +of their fishing and climbing excursions with the most eager +interest,--and in her turn, she told them of fresh nooks and streams +and waterfalls, of which they had never even heard the names. Not +only were they enchanted with her, but they were thoroughly +delighted with her father, Olaf Guldmar. The sturdy old pagan was in +the best of humors,--and seemed determined to be pleased with +everything,--he told good stories,--and laughed that rollicking, +jovial laugh of his with such unforced heartiness that it was +impossible to be dull in his company,--and not one of Errington's +companions gave a thought to the reports concerning him and his +daughter, which had been so gratuitously related by Mr. Dyceworthy. + +They had had a glorious day's sail, piloted by Valdemar Svensen, +whose astonishment at seeing the Guldmars on board the Eulalie was +depicted in his face, but who prudently forebore from making any +remarks thereon. The bonde hailed him good-humoredly as an old +acquaintance,--much in the tone of a master addressing a servant,-- +and Thelma smiled kindly at him,--but the boundary line between +superior and inferior was in this case very strongly marked, and +neither side showed any intention of overstepping it. In the course +of the day, Duprez had accidentally lapsed into French, whereupon to +his surprise Thelma had answered him in the same tongue,--though +with a different and much softer pronunciation. Her "bien zoli!" had +the mellifluous sweetness of the Provencal dialect, and on his +eagerly questioning her, he learned that she had received her +education in a large convent at Aries, where she had learned French +from the nuns. Her father overheard her talking of her school-days, +and he added-- + +"Yes, I sent my girl away for her education, though I know the +teaching is good in Christiania. Yet it did not seem good enough for +her. Besides, your modern 'higher education' is not the thing for a +woman,--it is too heavy and commonplace. Thelma knows nothing about +mathematics or algebra. She can sing and read and write,--and, what +is more, she can spin and sew; but even these things were not the +first consideration with me. I wanted her disposition trained, and +her bodily health attended to. I said to those good women at Arles-- +'Look here,--here's a child for you! I don't care how much or how +little she knows about accomplishments. I want her to be sound and +sweet from head to heel--a clean mind in a wholesome body. Teach her +self-respect, and make her prefer death to a lie. Show her the curse +of a shrewish temper, and the blessing of cheerfulness. That will +satisfy me!' I dare say, now I come to think of it, those nuns +thought me an odd customer; but, at any rate, they seemed to +understand me. Thelma was very happy with them, and considering all +things"--the old man's eyes twinkled fondly--"she hasn't turned out +so badly!" + +They laughed,--and Thelma blushed as Errington's dreamy eyes rested +on her with a look, which, though he was unconscious of it, spoke +passionate admiration. The day passed too quickly with them all,-- +and now, as they sat at dinner in the richly ornamented saloon, +there was not one among them who could contemplate without +reluctance the approaching break-up of so pleasant a party. Dessert +was served, and as Thelma toyed with the fruit on her plate and +sipped her glass of champagne, her face grew serious and absorbed,-- +even sad,--and she scarcely seemed to hear the merry chatter of +tongues around her, till Errington's voice asking a question of her +father roused her into swift attention. + +"Do yon know any one of the name of Sigurd?" he was saying, "a poor +fellow whose wits are in heaven let us hope,--for they certainly are +not on earth." + +Olaf Guldmar's fine face softened with pity, and he replied-- + +"Sigurd? Have you met him then? Ah, poor boy. his is a sad fate! He +has wit enough, but it works wrongly; the brain is there, but 'tis +twisted. Yes, we know Sigurd well enough--his home is with us in +default of a better. Ay, ay! we snatched him from death--perhaps +unwisely,--yet he has a good heart, and finds pleasure in his life." + +"He is a kind of poet in his own way," went on Errington, watching +Thelma as she listened intently to their conversation. "Do you know +he actually visited me on board here last night and begged me to go +away from the Altenfjord altogether? He seemed afraid of me, as if +he thought I meant to do him some harm." + +"How strange!" murmured Thelma. "Sigurd never speaks to visitors,-- +he is too shy. I cannot understand his motive!" + +"Ah, my dear!" sighed her father. "Has he any motive at all?. . . +and does he ever understand himself? His fancies change with every +shifting breeze! I will tell you," he continued, addressing himself +to Errington, "how he came to be, as it were, a bit of our home. +Just before Thelma was born, I was walking with my wife one day on +the shore, when we both caught sight of something bumping against +our little pier, like a large box or basket. I managed to get hold +of it with a boat-hook and drag it in; it was a sort of creel such +as is used to pack fish in, and in it was the naked body of a half- +drowned child. It was an ugly little creature--a newly born infant +deformity--and on its chest there was a horrible scar in the shape +of a cross, as though it had been gashed deeply with a pen-knife. I +thought it was dead, and was for throwing it back into the Fjord, +but my wife,--a tender-hearted angel--took the poor wretched little +wet body in her arms, and found that it breathed. She warmed it, +dried it, and wrapped it in her shawl,--and after awhile the tiny +monster opened its eyes and stared at her. Well!. . . somehow, +neither of us could forget the look it gave us,--such a solemn, +warning, pitiful, appealing sort of expression! There was no +resisting it,--so we took the foundling and did the best we could +for him. We gave him the name of Sigurd,--and when Thelma was born, +the two babies used to play together all day, and we never noticed +anything wrong with the boy, except his natural deformity, till he +was about ten or twelve years old. Then we saw to our sorrow that +the gods had chosen to play havoc with his wits. However, we humored +him tenderly, and he was always manageable. Poor Sigurd! He adored +my wife; I have known him listen for hours to catch the sound of her +footstep; he would actually deck the threshold with flowers in the +morning that she might tread on them as she passed by." The old +bonds sighed and rubbed his hand across his eyes with a gesture half +of pain, half of impatience--"And now he is Thelma's slave,--a +regular servant to her. She can manage him best of us all,--he is as +docile as a lamb, and will do anything she tells him." + +"I am not surprised at that," said the gallant Duprez; "there is +reason in such obedience!" + +Thelma looked at him inquiringly, ignoring the implied compliment. + +"You think so?" she said simply "I am glad! I always hope that he +will one day be well in mind,--and every little sign of reason in +him is pleasant to me." + +Duprez was silent. It was evidently no use making even an attempt at +flattering this strange girl; surely she must be dense not to +understand compliments that most other women compel from the lips of +men as their right? He was confused--his Paris breeding was no use +to him--in fact he had been at a loss all day, and his conversation +had, even to himself, seemed particularly shallow and frothy. This +Mademoiselle Guldmar, as he called her, was by no means stupid--she +was not a mere moving statue of lovely flesh and perfect color whose +outward beauty was her only recommendation,--she was, on the +contrary, of a most superior intelligence,--she had read much and +thought more,--and the dignified elegance of her manner, and bearing +would have done honor to a queen. After all, thought Duprez +musingly, the social creeds of Paris MIGHT be wrong--it was just +possible! There might be women who were womanly,--there might be +beautiful girls who were neither vain nor frivolous,--there might +even be creatures of the feminine sex, besides whom a trained +Parisian coquette would seem nothing more than a painted fiend of +the neuter gender. These were new and startling considerations to +the feather-light mind of the Frenchman,--and unconsciously his +fancy began to busy itself with the old romantic histories of the +ancient French chivalry, when faith, and love, and loyalty, kept +white the lilies of France, and the stately courtesy and unflinching +pride of the ancient regime made its name honored throughout the +world. An odd direction indeed for Pierre Duprez's reflection to +wander in--he, who never reflected on either past or future, but was +content to fritter away the present as pleasantly as might be--and +the only reason to which his unusually serious reverie could be +attributed was the presence of Thelma. She certainly had a strange +influence on them all, though she herself was not aware of it,--and +not only Errington, but each one of his companions had been deeply +considering during the day, that notwithstanding the unheroic +tendency of modern living, life itself might be turned to good and +even noble account, if only an effort were made in the right +direction. + +Such was the compelling effect of Thelma's stainless mind reflected +in her pure face, on the different dispositions of all the young +men; and she, perfectly unconscious of it, smiled at them, and +conversed gaily,--little knowing as she talked, in her own sweet and +unaffected way, that the most profound resolutions were being +formed, and the most noble and unselfish deeds, were being planned +in the souls of her listeners,--all forsooth! because one fair, +innocent woman had, in the clear, grave glances of her wondrous sea- +blue eyes, suddenly made them aware of their own utter unworthiness. +Macfarlane, meditatively watching the girl from under his pale +eyelashes, thought of Mr. Dyceworthy's matrimonial pretensions, with +a humorous smile hovering on his thin lips. + +"Ma certes! the fellow has an unco' gude opeenion o' himself," he +mused. "He might as well offer his hand in marriage to the Queen +while he's aboot it,--he wad hae just as muckle chance o' +acceptance." + +Meanwhile, Errington, having learned all he wished to know +concerning Sigurd, was skillfully drawing out old Olaf Guldmar, and +getting him to give his ideas on things in general, a task in which +Lorimer joined. + +"So you don't think we're making any progress nowadays?" inquired +the latter with an appearance of interest, and a lazy amusement in +his blue eyes as he put the question. + +"Progress!" exclaimed Guldmar. "Not a bit of it! It is all a going +backward; it may not seem apparent, but it is so. England, for +instance, is losing the great place she once held in the world's +history,--and these things always happen to all nations when money +becomes more precious to the souls of the people than honesty and +honor. I take the universal wide-spread greed of gain to be one of +the worst signs of the times,--the forewarning of some great +upheaval and disaster, the effects of which no human mind can +calculate. I am told that America is destined to be the dominating +power of the future,--but I doubt it! Its politics are too corrupt,- +-its people live too fast, and burn their candle at both ends, which +is unnatural and most unwholesome; moreover, it is almost destitute +of Art in its highest forms,--and is not its confessed watchward +'the almighty Dollar?' And such a country as that expects to +arrogate to itself the absolute sway of the world? I tell you, NO-- +ten thousand times NO! It is destitute of nearly everything that has +made nations great and all-powerful in historic annals,--and my +belief is that what, has been, will be again,--and that what has +never been, will never be." + +"You mean by that, I suppose, that there is no possibility of doing +anything new,--no way of branching out in some, better and untried +direction?" asked Errington. + +Olaf Guldmar shook his head emphatically. "You can't do it," he said +decisively. "Everything in every way has been begun and completed +and then forgotten over and over in this world,--to be begun and +completed and forgotten again, and so on to the end of the chapter. +No one nation is better than another in this respect,--there is,-- +there can be nothing new. Norway, for example, has had its day; +whether it will ever have another I know not,--at any rate, I shall +not live to see it. And yet, what a past!--" He broke off and his +eyes grew meditative. + +Lorimer looked at him. "You would have been a Viking, Mr. Guldmar, +had you lived in the old days," he said with a smile. + +"I should, indeed!" returned the old man, with an unconsciously +haughty gesture of his head; "and no better fate could have befallen +me! To sail the seas in hot pursuit of one's enemies, or in search +of further conquest,--to feel the very wind and sun beating up the +blood in one's veins,--to live the life of a MAN--a true man!. . . +in all the pride and worth of strength, and invincible vigor!--how +much better than the puling, feeble, sickly existence, led by the +majority of men to-day! I dwell apart from them as much as I can,--I +steep my mind and body in the joys of Nature, and the free fresh +air,--but often I feel that the old days of the heroes must have +been best,--when Gorm the Bold and the fierce Siegfried seized +Paris, and stabled their horses in the chapel where Charlemagne lay +buried!" + +Pierre Duprez looked up with a faint smile. "Ah, pardon! But that +was surely a very long time ago!" + +"True!" said Guldmar quietly. "And no doubt you will not believe the +story at this distance of years. But the day is coming when people +will look back on the little chronicle of your Empire,--your +commune,--your republic, all your little affairs, and will say, +'Surely these things are myths; they occurred--if they occurred at +all,--a very long time ago!" + +"Monsieur is a philosopher!" said Duprez, with a good-humored +gesture; "I would not presume to contradict him." + +"You see, my lad," went on Guldmar more gently, "there is much in +our ancient Norwegian history that is forgotten or ignored by +students of to-day. The travellers that come hither come to see the +glories of our glaciers and fjords,--but they think little or +nothing of the vanished tribe of heroes who once possessed the land. +If you know your Greek history, you must have heard of Pythias, who +lived three hundred and fifty-six years before Christ, and who was +taken captive by a band of Norseman and carried away to see 'the +place where the sun slept in winter.' Most probably he came to this +very spot, the Altenfjord,--at any rate the ancient Greeks had good +words to say for the 'Outside Northwinders,' as they called us +Norwegians, for they reported us to be 'persons living in peace with +their gods and themselves.' Again, one of the oldest tribes in the +world came among us in times past,--the Phoenicians,--there are +traces among us still of their customs and manners. Yes! we have a +great deal to look back upon with pride as well as sorrow,--and much +as I hear of the wonders of the New World, the marvels and the go- +ahead speed of American manners and civilization,--I would rather be +a Norseman than a Yankee." And he laughed. + +"There's more dignity in the name, at any rate," said Lorimer. "But +I say, Mr. Guldmar, you are 'up' in history much better than I am. +The annals of my country were grounded into my tender soul early in +life, but I have a very hazy recollection of them. I know Henry +VIII. got rid of his wives expeditiously and conveniently,--and I +distinctly remember that Queen Elizabeth wore the first pair of silk +stockings, and danced a kind of jig in them with the Earl of +Leicester; these things interested me at the time,--and they now +seen firmly impressed on my memory to the exclusion of everything +else that might possibly be more important." + +Old Guldmar smiled, but Thelma laughed outright and her eyes danced +mirthfully. + +"Ah, I do know you now!" she said, nodding her fair head at him +wisely. "You are not anything that is to be believed! So I shall +well understand you,--that is, you are a very great scholar,--but +that it pleases you to pretend you are a dunce!" + +Lorimer's face brightened into a very gentle and winning softness as +he looked at her. + +"I assure you, Miss Guldmar, I am not pretending in the least. I'm +no scholar. Errington is, if you like! If it hadn't been for him, I +should never have learned anything at Oxford at all. He used to leap +over a difficulty while I was looking at it. Phil, don't interrupt +me,--you know you did! I tell you he's up to everything: Greek, +Latin, and all the rest of it,--and, what's more, he writes well,--I +believe,--though he'll never forgive me for mentioning it,--that he +has even published some poems." + +"Be quiet, George!" exclaimed Errington, with a vexed laugh. "You +are boring Miss Guldmar to death!" + +"What is BORING?" asked Thelma gently, and then turning her eyes +full on the young Baronet, she added, "I like to hear that you will +pass your days sometimes without shooting the birds and killing the +fish; it can hurt nobody for you to write." And she smiled that +dreamy pensive smile, of hers that was so infinitely bewitching. +"You must show me all your sweet poems!" + +Errington colored hotly. "They are all nonsense, Miss Guldmar," he +said quickly. "There's nothing 'sweet' about them, I tell you +frankly! All rubbish, every line of them!" + +"Then you should not write them," said Thelma quietly. "It is only a +pity and a disappointment." + +"I wish every one were of your opinion," laughed Lorimer, "it would +spare us a lot of indifferent verse." + +"Ah! you have the chief Skald of all the world in your land!" cried +Guldmar, bringing his fist down with a jovial thump on the table. +"He can teach you all that you need to know." + +"SKALD?" queried Lorimer dubiously. "Oh, you mean bard. I suppose +you allude to Shakespeare?" + +"I do," said the old bonde enthusiastically, "he is the only glory +of your country I envy! I would give anything to prove him a +Norwegian. By Valhalla! had he but been one of the Bards of Odin, +the world might have followed the grand old creed still! If anything +could ever persuade me to be a Christian, it would be the fact that +Shakespeare was one. If England's name is rendered imperishable, it +will be through the fame of Shakespeare alone,--just as we have a +kind of tenderness for degraded modern Greece, because of Homer. Ay, +ay! countries and nations are worthless enough; it is only the great +names of heroes that endure, to teach the lesson that is never +learned sufficiently,--namely, that man and man alone is fitted to +grasp the prize of immortality." + +"Ye believe in immortality?" inquired Macfarlane seriously. + +Guldmar's keen eyes lighted on him with fiery impetuousness. + +"Believe in it? I possess it! How can it be taken from me? As well +make a bird without wings, a tree without sap, an ocean without +depths, as expect to find a man without an immortal soul! What a +question to ask? Do YOU not possess heaven's gift? and why should +not I?" + +"No offense," said Macfarlane, secretly astonished at the old +bonde's fervor,--for had not he, though himself intending to become +a devout minister of the Word,--had not he now and then felt a +creeping doubt as to whether, after all, there was any truth in the +doctrine of another life than this one. "I only thocht ye might have +perhaps questioned the probabeelity o't, in your own mind?" + +"I never question Divine authority," replied Olaf Guldmar, "I pity +those that do!" + +"And this Divine authority?" said Duprez suddenly with a delicate +sarcastic smile, "how and where do you perceive it?" + +"In the very Law that compels me to exist, young sir," said +Guldmar,--"in the mysteries of the universe about me,--the glory of +the heavens,--the wonders of the sea! You have perhaps lived in +cities all your life, and your mind is cramped a bit. No wonder, +. . . you can hardly see the stars above the roofs of a wilderness +of houses. Cities are men's work,--the gods have never had a finger +in the building of them. Dwelling in them, I suppose you cannot help +forgetting Divine authority altogether; but here,--here among the +mountains, you would soon remember it! You should live here,--it +would make a man of you!" + +"And you do not consider me a man?" inquired Duprez with +imperturbable good-humor. + +Guldmar laughed. "Well, not quite!" he admitted candidly, "there's +not enough muscle about you. I confess I like to see strong fellows- +-fellows fit to rule the planet on which they are placed. That's my +whim!--but you're a neat little chap enough, and I dare say you can +hold your own!" + +And his eyes twinkled good-temperedly as he filled himself another +glass of his host's fine Burgundy, and drank it off, while Duprez, +with a half-plaintive, half-comical shrug of resignation to +Guldmar's verdict on his personal appearance, asked Thelma if she +would favor them with a song. She rose from her seat instantly, +without any affected hesitation, and went to the piano. She had a +delicate touch, and accompanied herself with great taste,--but her +voice, full, penetrating, rich and true,--was one of the purest and +most sympathetic ever possessed by woman, and its freshness was +unspoilt by any of the varied "systems" of torture invented by +singing-masters for the ingenious destruction of the delicate vocal +organ. She sang a Norwegian love-song in the original tongue, which +might be roughly translated as follows:-- + + "Lovest thou me for my beauty's sake? + Love me not then! + Love the victorious, glittering Sun, + The fadeless, deathless, marvellous One!" + + "Lovest thou me for my youth's sake? + Love me not then! + Love the triumphant, unperishing Spring, + Who every year new charms doth bring!" + + "Lovest thou me for treasure's sake? + Oh, love me not then! + Love the deep, the wonderful Sea, + Its jewels are worthier love than me!" + + "Lovest thou me for Love's own sake? + Ah sweet, then love me! + More than the Sun and the Spring and the Sea, + Is the faithful heart I will yield to thee!" + +A silence greeted the close of her song. Though the young men were +ignorant of the meaning of the words still old Guldmar translated +them for their benefit, they could feel the intensity of the passion +vibrating through her ringing tones,--and Errington sighed +involuntarily. She heard the sigh, and turned round on the music- +stool laughing. + +"Are you so tired, or sad, or what is it?" she asked merrily. "It is +too melancholy a tune? And I was foolish to sing it,--because you +cannot understand the meaning of it. It is all about love,--and of +course love is always sorrowful." + +"Always?" asked Lorimer, with a half-smile. + +"I do not know," she said frankly, with a pretty deprecatory gesture +of her hands,--"but all books say so! It must be a great pain, and +also a great happiness. Let me think what I can sing to you now,-- +but perhaps you will yourself sing?" + +"Not one of us have a voice, Miss Guldmar," said Errington. "I used +to think I had, but Lorimer discouraged my efforts." + +"Men shouldn't sing," observed Lorimer; "if they only knew how +awfully ridiculous they look, standing up in dress-coats and white +ties, pouring forth inane love-ditties that nobody wants to hear, +they wouldn't do it. Only a woman looks pretty while singing." + +"Ah, that is very nice!" said Thelma, with a demure smile. "Then I +am agreeable to you when I sing?" + +Agreeable? This was far too tame a word--they all rose from the +table and came towards her, with many assurances of their delight +and admiration; but she put all their compliments aside with a +little gesture that was both incredulous and peremptory. + +"You must not say so many things in praise of me," she said, with a +swift upward glance at Errington, where he leaned on the piano +regarding her. "It is nothing to be able to sing. It is only like +the birds, but we cannot understand the words they say, just as you +cannot understand Norwegian. Listen,--here is a little ballad you +will all know," and she played a soft prelude, while her voice, +subdued to a plaintive murmur, rippled out in the dainty verses of +Sainte-Beuve-- + + "Sur ma lyre, l'autre fois + Dans un bois, + Ma main preludait a peine; + Une colombe descend + En passant, + Blanche sur le luth d'ebene" + + "Mais au lieu d'accords touchants, + De doux chants, + La colombe gemissante + Me demande par pitie + Sa moitie Sa moitie lein d'elle absente!" + +She sang this seriously and sweetly till she came to the last three +lines, when, catching Errington's earnest gaze, her voice quivered +and her cheeks flushed. She rose from the piano as soon as she had +finished, and said to the bonde, who had been watching her with +proud and gratified looks-- + +"It is growing late, father. We must say good-bye to our friends and +return home." + +"Not yet!" eagerly implored Sir Philip. "Come up on deck,--we will +have coffee there, and afterwards you shall leave us when you will." + +Guldmar acquiesced in this arrangement, before his daughter had time +to raise any objection, and they all went on deck, where a +comfortable lounging chair was placed for Thelma, facing the most +gorgeous portion of the glowing sky, which on this evening was like +a moving mass of molten gold, split asunder here and there by angry +ragged-looking rifts of crimson. The young men grouped themselves +together at the prow of the vessel in order to smoke their cigars +without annoyance to Thelma. Old Guldmar did not smoke, but he +talked,--and Errington after seeing them all fairly absorbed in an +argument on the best methods of spearing salmon, moved quietly away +to where the girl was sitting, her great pensive eyes fixed on the +burning splendors of the heavens. + +"Are you warm enough there?" he asked, and there was an unconscious +tenderness in his voice as he asked the question, "or shall I fetch +you a wrap?" + +She smiled. "I have my hood," she said. "It is the warmest thing I +ever wear, except, of course, in winter." + +Philip looked at the hood as she drew it more closely over her head, +and thought that surely no more becoming article of apparel ever was +designed for woman's wear. He had never seen anything like it either +in color or texture,--it was of a peculiarly warm, rich crimson, +like the heart of a red damask rose, and it suited the bright hair +and tender, thoughtful eyes of its owner to perfection. + +"Tell me," he said, drawing a little nearer and speaking in a lower +tone, "have you forgiven me for my rudeness the first time I saw +you?" + +She looked a little troubled. + +"Perhaps also I was rude," she said gently. "I did not know you. I +thought--" + +"You were quite right," he eagerly interrupted her. "It was very +impertinent of me to ask you for your name. I should have found it +out for myself, as I HAVE done." + +And he smiled at her as he said the last words with marked emphasis. +She raised her eyes wistfully. + +"And you are glad?" she asked softly and with a sort of wonder in +her accents. + +"Glad to know your name? glad to know YOU! Of course! Can you ask +such a question?" + +"But why?" persisted Thelma. "It is not as if you were lonely,--you +have friends already. We are nothing to you. Soon you will go away, +and you will think of the Altenfjord as a dream,--and our names will +be forgotten. That is natural!" + +What a foolish rush of passion filled his heart as she spoke in +those mellow, almost plaintive accents,--what wild words leaped to +his lips and what an effort it cost him to keep them hack. The heat +and impetuosity of Romeo,--whom up to the present he had been +inclined to consider a particularly stupid youth,--was now quite +comprehensible to his mind, and he, the cool, self-possessed +Englishman, was ready at that moment to outrival Juliet's lover, in +his utmost excesses of amorous folly. In spite of his self- +restraint, his voice quivered a little as he answered her-- + +"I shall never forget the Altenfjord or you, Miss Guldmar. Don't you +know there are some things that cannot be forgotten? such as a +sudden glimpse of fine scenery,--a beautiful song, or a pathetic +poem?" She bent her head in assent. "And here there is so much to +remember--the light of the midnight sun,--the glorious mountains, +the loveliness of the whole land!" + +"Is it better than other countries you have seen?" asked the girl +with some interest. + +"Much better!" returned Sir Philip fervently. "In fact, there is no +place like it in my opinion." He paused at the sound of her pretty +laughter. + +"You are--what is it?--ecstatic!" she said mirthfully. "Tell me, +have you been to the south of France and the Pyrenees?" + +"Of course I have," he replied. "I have been all over the +Continent,--travelled about it till I'm tired of it. Do you like the +south of France better than Norway?" + +"No,--not so very much better," she said dubiously. "And yet a +little. It is so warm and bright there, and the people are gay. Here +they are stern and sullen. My father loves to sail the seas, and +when I first went to school at Arles, he took me a long and +beautiful voyage. We went from Christiansund to Holland, and saw all +those pretty Dutch cities with their canals and quaint bridges. Then +we went through the English Channel to Brest,--then by the Bay of +Biscay to Bayonne. Bayonne seemed to me very lovely, but we left it +soon, and travelled a long way by land, seeing all sorts of +wonderful things, till we came to Arles. And though it is such a +long route, and not one for many persons to take, I have travelled +to Arles and back twice that way, so all there is familiar to me,-- +and in some things I do think it better than Norway." + +"What induced your father to send you so far away from him?" asked +Philip rather curiously. + +The girl's eyes softened tenderly. "Ah, that is easy to understand!" +she said. "My mother came from Arles." + +"She was French, then?" he exclaimed with some surprise. + +"No," she answered gravely. "She was Norwegian, because her father +and mother both were of this land. She was what they call 'born +sadly.' You must not ask me any more about her, please!" + +Errington apologized at once with some embarrassment, and a deeper +color than usual on his face. She looked up at him quite frankly. + +"It is possible I will tell you her history some day," she said, +"when we shall know each other better. I do like to talk to you very +much! I suppose there are many Englishmen like you?" + +Philip laughed. "I don't think I am at all exceptional! why do you +ask?" + +She shrugged her shoulders. "I have seen some of them," she said +slowly," and they are stupid. They shoot, shoot,--fish, fish, all +day, and eat a great deal. . . ." + +"My dear Miss Guldmar, I also do all these things!" declared +Errington amusedly. "These are only our surface faults. Englishmen +are the best fellows to be found anywhere. You mustn't judge them by +their athletic sports, or their vulgar appetites. You must appeal to +their hearts when you want to know them." + +"Or to their pockets, and you will know them still better!" said +Thelma almost mischievously, as she raised herself in her chair to +take a cup of coffee from the tray that was then being handed to her +by the respectful steward "Ah, how good this is! It reminds me of +our coffee luncheon at Arles!" + +Errington watched her with a half-smile, but said no more, as the +others now came up to claim their share of her company. + +"I say!" said Lorimer, lazily throwing himself full length on the +deck and looking up at her, "come and see us spear a salmon to- +morrow, Miss Guldmar. Your father is going to show us how to do it +in the proper Norse style." + +"That is for men," said Thelma loftily. "Women must know nothing +about such things." + +"By Jove!" and Lorimer looked profoundly astonished. "Why, Miss +Guldmar, women are going in for everything nowadays! Hunting, +shooting, bull-fighting, duelling, horse-whipping, lecturing,-- +heaven knows what! They stop at nothing--salmon-spearing is a mere +trifle in the list of modern feminine accomplishments." + +Thelma smiled down upon him benignly. "You will always be the same," +she said with a sort of indulgent air. "It is your delight to say +things upside down? But you shall not make me believe that women do +all these dreadful things. Because, how is it possible? The men +would not allow them!" + +Errington laughed, and Lorimer appeared stupefied with surprise. + +"The men--would--not--allow them?" he repeated slowly. "Oh, Miss +Guldmar, little do you realize the state of things at the present +day! The glamor of Viking memories clings about you still! Don't you +know the power of man has passed away, and that ladies do exactly as +they like? It is easier to control the thunderbolt than to prevent a +woman having her own way." + +"All that is nonsense!" said Thelma decidedly. "Where there is a man +to rule, he MUST rule, that is certain." + +"Is that positively your opinion?" and Lorimer looked more +astonished than ever. + +"It is everybody's opinion, of course!" averred Thelma. "How foolish +it would be if women did not obey men! The world would be all +confusion! Ah, you see you cannot make me think your funny thoughts; +it is no use!" And she laughed and rose from her chair, adding with +a gentle persuasive air, "Father dear, is it not time to say good- +bye?" + +"Truly I think it is!" returned Guldmar, giving himself a shake like +an old lion, as he broke off a rather tedious conversation he had +been having with Macfarlane. "We shall have Sigurd coming to look +for us, and poor Britta will think we have left her too long alone. +Thank you, my lad!" this to Sir Philip, who instantly gave orders +for the boat to be lowered. "You have given us a day of thorough, +wholesome enjoyment. I hope I shall be able to return it in some +way. You must let me see as much of you as possible." + +They shook hands cordially, and Errington proposed to escort them +back as far as their own pier, but this offer Guldmar refused. + +"Nonsense!" he exclaimed cheerily. "With four oarsmen to row us +along, why should we take you away from your friends? I won't hear +of such a thing! And now, regarding the great fall of Njedegorze; +Mr. Macfarlane here says you have not visited it yet. Well the best +guide you can have there is Sigurd. We'll make up a party and go +when it is agreeable to you; it is a grand sight,--well worth +seeing. To-morrow we shall meet again for the salmon-spearing,--I +warrant I shall be able to make the time pass quickly for you! How +long do you think of staying here?" + +"As long as possible!" answered Errington absently, his eyes +wandering to Thelma, who was just then shaking hands with his +friends and bidding them farewell. + +Guldmar laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "That means till +you are tired of the place," he said good-humoredly." Well you shall +not be dull if I can prevent it! Good-bye, and thanks for your +hospitality." + +"Ah, yes!" added Thelma gently, coming up at that moment and laying +her soft hand in his. "I have been so happy all day, and it is all +your kindness! I am very grateful!" + +"It is I who have cause to be grateful," said Errington hurriedly, +clasping her hand warmly, "for your company and that of your father. +I trust we shall have many more pleasant days together." + +"I hope so too!" she answered simply, and then, the boat being +ready, they departed. Errington and Lorimer leaned on the deck- +rails, waving their hats and watching them disappear over the +gleaming water, till the very last glimpse of Thelma's crimson hood +had vanished, and then they turned to rejoin their companions, who +were strolling up and down smoking. + +"Belle comme un angel!" said Duprez briefly. "In short, I doubt if +the angels are so good-looking!" + +"The auld pagan's a fine scholar," added Macfarlane meditatively. +"He corrected me in a bit o' Latin." + +"Did he, indeed?" And Lorimer laughed indolently. "I suppose you +think better of him now, Sandy?" + +Sandy made no reply, and as Errington persisted in turning the +conversation away from the merits or demerits of their recent +guests, they soon entered on other topics. But that night, before +retiring to rest, Lorimer laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, and +said quietly, with a keen look-- + +"Well, old man, have you made up your mind? Have I seen the future +Lady Bruce-Errington?" + +Sir Philip smiled,--then, after a brief pause, answered steadily-- + +"Yes, George, you have! That is,--if I can win her!" + +Lorimer laughed a little and sighed. "There's no doubt about that, +Phil." And eyeing Errington's fine figure and noble features +musingly, he repeated again thoughtfully--"No doubt about that, my +boy!" Then after a pause he said, somewhat abruptly, "Time to turn +in--good night!" + +"Good night, old fellow!" And Errington wrung his hand warmly, and +left him to repose. + +But Lorimer had rather a bad night,--he tossed and tumbled a good +deal, and had dreams,--unusual visitors with him,--and once or twice +he muttered in his sleep,--"No doubt about it--not the least in the +world--and if there were--" + +But the conclusion of this sentence was inaudible. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + + "Tu vas faire un beau reve, + Et t'enivrer d'un plaisir dangereux. + Sur ton chemin l'etoile qui se leve + Longtemps encore eblouira les yeux!" + + De Musset. + + +A fortnight passed. The first excursion in the Eulalie had been +followed by others of a similar kind, and Errington's acquaintance +with the Guldmars was fast ripening into a pleasant intimacy. It had +grown customary for the young men to spend that part of the day +which, in spite of persistent sunshine, they still called evening, +in the comfortable, quaint parlor of the old farmhouse,--looking at +the view through the rose-wreathed windows,--listening to the +fantastic legends of Norway as told by Olaf Guldmar,--or watching +Thelma's picturesque figure, as she sat pensively apart in her +shadowed corner spinning. They had fraternized with Sigurd too--that +is, as far as he would permit them--for the unhappy dwarf was +uncertain of temper, and if at one hour he were docile and yielding +as a child, the next he would be found excited and furious at some +imaginary slight that he fancied had been inflicted upon him. +Sometimes, if good-humored, he would talk almost rationally,--only +allowing his fancy to play with poetical ideas concerning the sea, +the flowers, or the sunlight,--but he was far more often sullen and +silent. He would draw a low chair to Thelma's side, and sit there +with half-closed eyes and compressed lips, and none could tell +whether he listened to the conversation around him, or was utterly +indifferent to it. He had taken a notable fancy to Lorimer, but he +avoided Errington in the most marked and persistent manner. The +latter did his best to overcome this unreasonable dislike, but his +efforts were useless,--and deciding in his own mind that it was best +to humor Sigurd's vagaries, he soon let him alone, and devoted his +attention more entirely to Thelma. + +One evening, after supper at the farmhouse, Lorimer, who for some +time had been watching Philip and Thelma conversing together in low +tones near the open window, rose from his seat quietly, without +disturbing the hilarity of the bonde, who was in the middle of a +rollicking sea-story, told for Macfarlane's entertainment,--and +slipped out into the garden, where he strolled along rather absently +till he found himself in the little close thicket of pines,--the +very same spot where he and Philip had stood on the first day of +their visit thither. He threw himself down on the soft emerald moss +and lit a cigar, sighing rather drearily as he did so. + +"Upon my life," he mused, with a half-smile, "I am very nearly being +a hero,--a regular stage-martyr,--the noble creature of the piece! +By Jove, I wish I were a soldier! I'm certain I could stand the +enemy's fire better than this! Self-denial? Well, no wonder the +preachers make such a fuss about it, It's a tough, uncomfortable +duty. But am I self-denying? Not a bit of it! Look here, George +Lorimer"--here he tapped himself very vigorously on his broad chest- +-"don't you imagine yourself to be either virtuous or magnanimous! +If you were anything of a man at all you would never let your +feelings get the better of you,--you would be sublimely indifferent, +stoically calm,--and, as it is,--you know what a sneaking, hang-dog +state of envy you were in just now when you came out of that room! +Aren't you ashamed of yourself,--rascal?" + +The inner self he thus addressed was most probably abashed by this +adjuration, for his countenance cleared a little, as though he had +received an apology from his own conscience. He puffed lazily at his +cigar, and felt somewhat soothed. Light steps below him attracted +his attention, and, looking down from the little knoll on which he +lay, he saw Thelma and Philip pass. They were walking slowly along a +little winding path that led to the orchard, which was situated at +some little distance from the house. The girl's head was bent, and +Philip was talking to her with evident eagerness. Lorimer looked +after them earnestly, and his honest eyes were full of trouble. + +"God bless them both!" he murmured half aloud. "There's no harm in +saying that, any how! Dear old Phil! I wonder whether--" + +What he would have said was uncertain, for at that moment he was +considerably startled by the sight of a meagre, pale face peering +through the parted pine boughs,--a face in which two wild eyes shone +with a blue-green glitter, like that of newly sharpened steel. + +"Hello, Sigurd!" said Lorimer good-naturedly, as he recognized his +visitor. "What are you up to? Going to climb a tree?" + +Sigurd pushed aside the branches cautiously and approached. He sat +down by Lorimer, and, taking his hand, kissed it deferentially. + +"I followed you. I saw you go away to grieve alone. I came to grieve +also!" he said with a patient gentleness. + +Lorimer laughed languidly. "By Jove, Sigurd, you're too clever for +your age! Think I came away to grieve, eh? Not so, my boy--came away +to smoke! There's a come-down for you! I never grieve--don't know +how to do it. What IS grief?" + +"To love!" answered Sigurd promptly. "To see a beautiful elf with +golden wings come fluttering, fluttering gently down from the sky,-- +you open your arms to catch her--so!. . . and just as you think you +have her, she leans only a little bit on one side, and falls, not +into your heart--no!--into the heart of some one else! That is +grief, because, when she has gone, no more elves come down from the +sky,--for you, at any rate,--good things may come for others,--but +for YOU the heavens are empty!" + +Lorimer was silent, looking at the speaker curiously. + +"How do you get all this nonsense into your head, eh?" he inquired +kindly. + +"I do not know," replied Sigurd with a sigh. "It comes! But, tell +me,"--and he smiled wistfully--"it is true, dear friend--good +friend--it is all true, is it not? For you the heavens are empty? +You know it!" + +Lorimer flushed hotly, and then grew strangely pale. After a pause, +he said in his usual indolent way-- + +"Look here, Sigurd; you're romantic! I'm not. I know nothing about +elves or empty heavens. I'm all right! Don't you bother yourself +about me." + +The dwarf studied his face attentively, and a smile of almost +fiendish cunning suddenly illumined his thin features. He laid his +weak-looking white hand on the young man's arm and said in a lower +tone-- + +"I will tell you what to do. Kill him!" + +The last two words were uttered with such intensity of meaning that +Lorimer positively recoiled from the accents, and the terrible look +which accompanied them. + +"I say, Sigurd, this won't do," he remonstrated gravely. "You +mustn't talk about killing, you know! It's not good for you. People +don't kill each other nowadays so easily as you seem to think. It +can't be done, Sigurd! Nobody wants to do it." + +"It CAN be done!" reiterated the dwarf imperatively. "It MUST be +done, and either you or I will do it! He shall not rob us,--he shall +not steal the treasure of the golden midnight. He shall not gather +the rose of all roses--" + +"Stop!" said Lorimer suddenly. "Who are you talking about?" + +"Who!" cried Sigurd excitedly. "Surely you know. Of him--that tall, +proud, grey-eyed Englishman,--your foe, your rival; the rich, cruel +Errington. . . ." + +Lorimer's hand fell heavily on his shoulder, and his voice was very +stern. + +"What nonsense, Sigurd! You don't know what you are talking about +to-day. Errington my foe! Good heavens! Why, he's my best friend! Do +you hear?" + +Sigurd stared up at him in vacant surprise, but nodded feebly. + +"Well, mind you remember it! The spirits tell lies, my boy, if they +say that he is my enemy. I would give my life to save his!" + +He spoke quietly, and rose from his seat on the moss as he finished +his words, and his face had an expression that was both noble and +resolute. + +Sigurd still gazed upon him. "And you,--you do not love Thelma?" he +murmured. + +Lorimer started, but controlled himself instantly. His frank English +eyes met the feverishly brilliant ones fixed so appealingly upon +him. + +"Certainly not!" he said calmly, with a serene smile. "What makes +you think of such a thing? Quite wrong, Sigurd,--the spirits have +made a mistake again! Come along,--let us join the others." + +But Sigurd would not accompany him. He sprang away like a frightened +animal, in haste, and abruptly plunging into the depths of a wood +that bordered on Olaf Guldmar's grounds, was soon lost to sight. +Lorimer looked after him in a little perplexity. + +"I wonder if he ever gets dangerous?" he thought. "A fellow with +such queer notions might do some serious harm without meaning it. +I'll keep an eye on him!" + +And once or twice during that same evening, he felt inclined to +speak to Errington on the subject, but no suitable opportunity +presented itself--and after a while, with his habitual indolence, he +partly forgot the circumstance. + +On the following Sunday afternoon Thelma sat alone under the wide +blossom-covered porch, reading. Her father and Sigurd,--accompanied +by Errington and his friends,--had all gone for a mountain ramble, +promising to return for supper, a substantial meal which Britta was +already busy preparing. The afternoon was very warm,--one of those +long, lazy stretches of heat and brilliancy in which Nature seems to +have lain down to rest like a child tired of play, sleeping in the +sunshine with drooping flowers in her hands. The very ripple of the +stream seemed hushed, and Thelma, though her eyes were bent +seriously on the book she held, sighed once or twice heavily as +though she were tired. There was a change in the girl,--an +undefinable something seemed to have passed over her and toned down +the redundant brightness of her beauty. She was paler,--and there +were darker shadows than usual under the splendor of her eyes. Her +very attitude, as she leaned her head against the dark, fantastic +carving of the porch, had a touch of listlessness and indifference +in it; her sweetly arched lips drooped with a plaintive little line +at the corners, and her whole air was indicative of fatigue, mingled +with sadness. She looked up now and then from the printed page, and +her gaze wandered over the stretch of the scented, flower-filled +garden, to the little silvery glimmer of the Fjord from whence +arose, like delicate black streaks against the sky, the slender +masts of the Eulalie,--and then she would resume her reading with a +slight movement of impatience. + +The volume she held was Victor Hugo's "Orientales," and though her +sensitive imagination delighted in poetry as much as in sunshine, +she found it for once hard to rivet her attention as closely as she +wished to do, on the exquisite wealth of language, and glow of +color, that distinguishes the writings of the Shakespears of France. +Within the house Britta was singing cheerily at her work, and the +sound of her song alone disturbed the silence. Two or three pale- +blue butterflies danced drowsily in and out a cluster of honeysuckle +that trailed downwards, nearly touching Thelma's shoulder, and a +diminutive black kitten, with a pink ribbon round its neck, sat +gravely on the garden path, washing its face with its tiny velvety +paws, in that deliberate and precise fashion, common to the spoiled +and petted members of its class. Everything was still and peaceful +as became a Sunday afternoon,--so that when the sound of a heavy +advancing footstep disturbed the intense calm, the girl was almost +nervously startled, and rose from her seat with so much +precipitation, that the butterflies, who had possibly been +considering whether her hair might not be some new sort of +sunflower, took fright and flew far upwards, and the demure kitten +scared out of its absurd self-consciousness, scrambled hastily up +the nearest little tree. The intruder on the quietude of Guldmar's +domain was the Rev. Mr. Dyceworthy,--and as Thelma, standing erect +in the porch, beheld him coming, her face grew stern and resolute, +and her eyes flashed disdainfully. + +Ignoring the repellant, almost defiant dignity of the girl's +attitude, Mr. Dyceworthy advanced, rather out of breath and somewhat +heated,--and smiling benevolently, nodded his head by way of +greeting, without removing his hat. + +"Ah, Froken Thelma!" he observed condescendingly. "And how are you +to-day? You look remarkably well--remarkably so, indeed!" And he +eyed her with mild approval. + +"I am well, I thank you," she returned quietly. "My father is not +in, Mr. Dyceworthy." + +The Reverend Charles wiped his hot face, and his smile grew wider. + +"What matter?" he inquired blandly. "We shall, no doubt, entertain +ourselves excellently without him! It is with you alone, Froken, +that I am desirous to hold converse." + +And, without waiting for her permission, he entered the porch, and +settled himself comfortably on the bench opposite to her, heaving a +sigh of relief as he did so. Thelma remained standing--and the +Lutheran minister's covetous eye glanced greedily over the sweeping +curves of her queenly figure, the dazzling whiteness of her slim +arched throat, and the glitter of her rich hair. She was silent--and +there was something in her manner as she confronted him that made it +difficult for Mr. Dyceworthy to speak. He hummed and hawed several +times, and settled his stiff collar once or twice as though it hurt +him; finally he said with an evident effort-- + +"I have found a--a--trinket of yours--a trifling toy--which, +perhaps, you would be glad to have again." And he drew carefully out +of his waistcoat pocket, a small parcel wrapped up in tissue paper, +which he undid with his fat fingers, thus displaying the little +crucifix he had kept so long in his possession. "Concerning this," +he went on, holding it up before her, "I am grievously troubled,-- +and would fain say a few necessary words--" + +She interrupted him, reaching out her hand for the cross as she +spoke. + +"That was my mother's crucifix," she said in solemn, infinitely +tender accents, with a mist as of unshed tears in her sweet blue +eyes. "It was round her neck when she died. I knew I had lost it, +and was very unhappy about it. I do thank you with all my heart for +bringing it back to me!" + +And the hauteur of her face relaxed, and her smile--that sudden +sweet smile of hers,--shone forth like a gleam of sunshine athwart a +cloud. + +Mr. Dyceworthy's breath came and went with curious rapidity. His +visage grew pale, and a clammy dew broke out upon his forehead. He +took the hand she held out,--a fair, soft hand with a pink palm like +an upcurled shell,--and laid the little cross within it, and still +retaining his hold of her, he stammeringly observed-- + +"Then we are friends, Froken Thelma!.. . . good friends, I hope?" + +She withdrew her fingers quickly from his hot, moist clasp, and her +bright smile vanished. + +"I do not see that at all!" she replied frigidly. "Friendship is +very rare. To be friends, one must have similar tastes and +sympathies,--many things which we have not,--and which we shall +never have. I am slow to call any person my friend." + +Mr. Dyceworthy's small pursy mouth drew itself into a tight thin +line. + +"Except," he said, with a suave sneer, "except when 'any person' +happens to be a rich Englishman with a handsome face and easy +manners!. . . then you are not slow to make friends, Froken,--on the +contrary, you are remarkably quick!" + +The cold haughty stare with which the girl favored him might have +frozen a less conceited man to a pillar of ice. + +"What do you mean?" she asks abruptly, and with an air of surprise. + +The minister's little ferret-like eyes, drooped under their puny +lids, and he fidgeted on the seat with uncomfortable embarrassment. +He answered her in the mildest of mild voices. + +"You are unlike yourself, my dear Froken!" he said, with a soothing +gesture of one of his well-trimmed white hands. "You are generally +frank and open, but to-day I find you just a little,--well!--what +shall I say--secretive! Yes, we will call it secretive! Oh, fie!" +and Mr. Dyceworthy laughed a gentle little laugh; "you must not +pretend ignorance of what I mean! All the neighborhood is talking of +you and the gentleman you are so often seen with. Notably concerning +Sir Philip Errington,--the vile tongue of rumor is busy,--for, +according to his first plans when his yacht arrived here, he was +bound for the North Cape,--and should have gone there days ago. +Truly, I think,--and there are others who think also in the same +spirit of interest for you,--that the sooner this young man leaves +our peaceful Fjord the better,--and the less he has to do with the +maidens of the district, the safer we shall be from the risk of +scandal." And he heaved a pious sigh. + +Thelma turned her eyes upon him in wonderment. + +"I do not understand you," she said coldly. "Why do you speak of +OTHERS? No others are interested in what I do? Why should they be? +Why should YOU be? There is no need!" + +Mr. Dyceworthy grew slightly excited. He felt like a runner nearing +the winning-post. + +"Oh, you wrong yourself, my dear Froken," he murmured softly, with a +sickly attempt at tenderness in his tone. "You really wrong +yourself! It is impossible,--for me at least, not to be interested +in you,--even for our dear Lord's sake. It troubles me to the inmost +depths of my soul to behold in you one of the foolish virgins whose +light hath been extinguished for lack of the saving oil,--to see you +wandering as a lost sheep in the paths of darkness and error, +without a hand to rescue your steps from the near and dreadful +precipice! Ay, truly!. . . my spirit yearneth for you as a mother +for an own babe--fain would I save you from the devices of the evil +one,--fain would I--" here the minister drew out his handkerchief +and pressed it lightly to his eyes,--then, as if with an effort +overcoming his emotion, he added, with the gravity of a butcher +presenting an extortionate bill," but first,--before my own humble +desires for your salvation--first, ere I go further in converse, it +behoveth me to enter on the Lord's business!" + +Thelma bent her head slightly, with an air as though she said: +"Indeed; pray do not be long about it!" And, leaning back against +the porch, she waited somewhat impatiently. + +"The image I have just restored to you," went on Mr. Dyceworthy in +his most pompous and ponderous manner, "you say belonged to your +unhappy--" + +"She was not unhappy," interposed the girl, calmly. + +"Ay, ay!" and the minister nodded with a superior air of wisdom. "So +you imagine, so you think,--you must have been too young to judge of +these things. She died--" + +"I saw her die," again she interrupted, with a musing tenderness in +her voice. "She smiled and kissed me,--then she laid her thin, white +hand on this crucifix, and, closing her eyes, she went to sleep. +They told me it was death, since then I have known that death is +beautiful!" + +Mr. Dyceworthy coughed,--a little cough of quiet incredulity. He was +not fond of sentiment in any form, and the girl's dreamily pensive +manner annoyed him. Death "beautiful?" Faugh! it was the one thing +of all others that he dreaded; it was an unpleasant necessity, +concerning which he thought as little as possible. Though he +preached frequently on the peace of the grave and the joys of +heaven,--he was far from believing in either,--he was nervously +terrified of illness, and fled like a frightened hare from the very +rumor of any infectious disorder, and he had never been known to +attend a death-bed. And now, in answer to Thelma, he nodded piously +and rubbed his hands, and said-- + +"Yes, yes; no doubt, no doubt! All very proper on your part, I am +sure! But concerning this same image of which I came to speak,--it +is most imperative that you should be brought to recognize it as a +purely carnal object, unfitting a maiden's eyes to rest upon. The +true followers of the Gospel are those who strive to forget the +sufferings of our dear Lord as much as possible,--or to think of +them only in spirit. The minds of sinners, alas! are easily +influenced,--and it is both unseemly and dangerous to gaze freely +upon the carven semblance of the Lord's limbs! Yea, truly, it hath +oft been considered as damnatory to the soul,--more especially in +the cases of women immured as nuns, who encourage themselves in an +undue familiarity with our Lord, by gazing long and earnestly upon +his body nailed to the accursed tree." + +Here Mr. Dyceworthy paused for breath. Thelma was silent, but a +faint smile gleamed on her face. + +"Wherefore," he went on, "I do adjure you, as you desire grace and +redemption, to utterly cast from you the vile trinket, I have,-- +Heaven knows how reluctantly!. . . returned to your keeping,--to +trample upon it, and renounce it as a device of Satan. . ." He +stopped, surprised and indignant, as she raised the much-abused +emblem to her lips and kissed it reverently. + +"It is the sign of peace and salvation," she said steadily, "to me, +at least. You waste your words, Mr. Dyceworthy; I am a Catholic." + +"Oh, say not so!" exclaimed the minister, now thoroughly roused to a +pitch of unctuous enthusiasm. "Say not so. Poor child! who knowest +not the meaning of the word used. Catholic signifies universal. God +forbid a universal Papacy! You are not a Catholic--no! You are a +Roman--by which name we understand all that is most loathsome and +unpleasing unto God! But I will wrestle for your soul,--yea, night +and day will I bend my spiritual sinews to the task,--I will obtain +the victory,--I will exorcise the fiend! Alas, alas! you are on the +brink of hell--think of it!" and Mr. Dyceworthy stretched out his +hand with his favorite pulpit gesture. "Think of the roasting and +burning,--the scorching and withering of souls! Imagine, if you can, +the hopeless, bitter, eternal damnation," and here he smacked his +lips as though he were tasting something excellent,--"from which +there is no escape!. . . for which there shall be no remedy!" + +"It is a gloomy picture," said Thelma, with a quiet sparkle in her +eye. "I am sorry,--for YOU. But I am happier,--my faith teaches of +purgatory--there is always a little hope!" + +"There is none! there is none!" exclaimed the minister rising in +excitement from his seat, and swaying ponderously to and fro as he +gesticulated with hands and head. "You are doomed,--doomed! There is +no middle course between hell and heaven. It must be one thing or +the other; God deals not in half-measures! Pause, oh pause, ere you +decide to fall! Even at the latest hour the Lord desires to save +your soul,--the Lord yearns for your redemption, and maketh me to +yearn also. Froken Thelma!" and Mr. Dyceworthy's voice deepened in +solemnity, "there is a way which the Lord hath whispered in mine +ears,--a way that pointeth to the white robe and the crown of +glory,--a way by which you shall possess the inner peace of the +heart with bliss on earth as the forerunner of bliss in heaven!" + +She looked at him steadfastly. "And that way is--what?" she +inquired. + +Mr. Dyceworthy hesitated, and wished with all his heart that this +girl was not so thoroughly self-possessed. Any sign of timidity in +her would have given him an increase of hardihood. But her eyes were +coldly brilliant, and glanced him over without the smallest +embarrassment. He took refuge in his never-failing remedy, his +benevolent smile--a smile that covered a multitude of hypocrisies. + +"You ask a plain question, Froken," he said sweetly, "and I should +be loth not to give you a plain answer. That way-that glorious way +of salvation for you is--through ME!" + +And his countenance shone with smug self-satisfaction as he spoke, +and he repeated softly, "Yes, yes; that way is through me!" + +She moved with a slight gesture of impatience. "It is a pity to talk +any more," she said rather wearily. "It is all no use! Why do you +wish to change me in my religion? I do not wish to change YOU. I do +not see why we should speak of such things at all." + +"Of course!" replied Mr. Dyceworthy blandly. "Of course you do not +see. And why? Because you are blind." Here he drew a little nearer +to her, and looked covetously at the curve of her full, firm waist. + +"Oh, why!" he resumed in a sort of rapture--"why should we say it is +a pity to talk any more? Why should we say it is all no use? It IS +of use,--it is noble, it is edifying to converse of the Lord's good +pleasure! And what is His good pleasure at this moment? To unite two +souls in His service! Yea, He hath turned my desire towards you, +Froken Thelma,--even as Jacob's desire was towards Rachel! Let me +see this hand." He made a furtive grab at the white taper fingers +that played listlessly with the jessamine leaves on the porch, but +the girl dexterously withdrew them from his clutch and moved a +little further back, her face flushing proudly. "Oh, will it not +come to me? Cruel hand!" and he rolled his little eyes with an +absurdly sentimental air of reproach. "It is shy--it will not clasp +the hand of its protector! Do not be afraid, Froken!. . . I, Charles +Dyceworthy, am not the man to trifle with your young affections! Let +them rest where they have flown! I accept them! Yea!. . . in spite +of wrath and error and moral destitution,--my spirit inclineth +towards you,--in the language of carnal men, I love you! More than +this, I am willing to take you as my lawful wife--" + +He broke off abruptly, somewhat startled at the bitter scorn of the +flashing eyes that, like two quivering stars, were blazing upon him. +Her voice, clear as a bell ringing in frosty air, cut through the +silence like a sweep of a sword-blade. + +"How dare you!" she said, with a wrathful thrill in her low, intense +tones. "How dare you come here to insult me!" + +Insult her! He,--the Reverend Charles Dyceworthy,--considered guilty +of insult in offering honorable marriage to a mere farmer's +daughter! He could not believe his own ears,--and in his +astonishment he looked up at her. Looking, he recoiled and shrank +into himself, like a convicted knave before some queenly accuser. +The whole form of the girl seemed to dilate with indignation. From +her proud mouth, arched like a bow, sprang barbed arrows of scorn +that flew straightly and struck home. + +"Always I have guessed what you wanted," she went on in that deep, +vibrating tone which had such a rich quiver of anger within it; "but +I never thought yon would--" She paused, and a little disdainful +laugh broke from her lips. "You would make ME your wife--ME? You +think ME likely to accept such an offer?" And she drew herself up +with a superb gesture, and regarded him fixedly. + +"Oh, pride, pride!" murmured the unabashed Dyceworthy, recovering +from the momentary abasement into which he had been thrown by her +look and manner. "How it overcometh our natures and mastereth our +spirits! My dear, my dearest Froken,--I fear you do not understand +me! Yet it is natural that you should not; you were not prepared for +the offer of my--my affections,"--and he beamed all over with +benevolence,--"and I can appreciate a maidenly and becoming coyness, +even though it assume the form of a repellant and unreasonable +anger. But take courage, my--my dear girl!--our Lord forbid that I +should wantonly play with the delicate emotions of your heart! Poor +little heart! does it flutter?" and Mr. Dyceworthy leered sweetly. +"I will give it time to recover itself! Yes, yes! a little time! and +then you will put that pretty hand in mine"--here he drew nearer to +her, "and with one kiss we will seal the compact!" + +And he attempted to steal his arm round her waist, but the girl +sprang back indignantly, and pulling down a thick branch of the +clambering prickly roses from the porch, held it in front of her by +way of protection. Mr. Dyceworthy laughed indulgently. + +"Very pretty--very pretty indeed!" he mildly observed, eyeing her as +she stood at bay barricaded by the roses. "Quite a picture! There, +there! do not be frightened,--such shyness is very natural! We will +embrace in the Lord another day! In the meantime one little word-- +THE word--will suffice me,--yea, even one little smile,--to show me +that you understand my words,--that you love me"--here he clasped +his plump hands together in flabby ecstasy--"even as you are loved!" + +His absurd attitude,--the weak, knock-kneed manner in which his +clumsy legs seemed, from the force of sheer sentiment, to bend under +his weighty body, and the inanely amatory expression of his puffy +countenance, would have excited most women to laughter,--and Thelma +was perfectly conscious of his utterly ridiculous appearance, but +she was too thoroughly indignant to take the matter in a humorous +light. + +"Love you!" she exclaimed, with a movement of irrepressible +loathing. "You must be mad! I would rather die than marry you!" + +Mr. Dyceworthy's face grew livid and his little eyes sparkled +vindictively,--but he restrained his inward rage, and merely smiled, +rubbing his hands softly one against the other. + +"Let us be calm!" he said soothingly. "Whatever we do, let us be +calm! Let us not provoke one another to wrath! Above all things, let +us, in a spirit of charity and patience, reason out this matter +without undue excitement. My ears have most painfully heard your +last words, which, taken literally, might mean that you reject my +honorable offer. The question is, DO they mean this? I cannot,--I +will not believe that you would foolishly stand in the way of your +own salvation,"--and he shook his head with doleful gentleness. +"Moreover, Froken Thelma, though it sorely distresses me to speak of +it,--it is my duty, as a minister of the Lord, to remind you that an +honest marriage,--a marriage of virtue and respectability such as I +propose, is the only way to restore your reputation,--which, alas! +is sorely damaged, and--" + +Mr. Dyceworthy stopped abruptly, a little alarmed, as she suddenly +cast aside the barrier of roses and advanced toward him, her blue +eyes blazing. + +"My reputation!" she said haughtily. "Who speaks of it?" + +"Oh dear, dear me!" moaned the minister pathetically. "Sad!. . . +very sad to see so ungovernable a temper, so wild and untrained a +disposition! Alas, alas! how frail we are without the Lord's +support,--without the strong staff of the Lord's mercy to lean upon! +Not I, my poor child, not I, but the whole village speaks of you; to +you the ignorant people attribute all the sundry evils that of late +have fallen sorely upon them,--bad harvests, ill-luck with the +fishing, poverty, sickness,"--here Mr. Dyceworthy pressed the tips +of his fingers delicately together, and looked at her with a +benevolent compassion,--"and they call it witchcraft,--yes! strange, +very strange! But so it is,--ignorant as they are, such ignorance is +not easily enlightened,--and though I," he sighed, "have done my +poor best to disabuse their minds of the suspicions against you, I +find it is a matter in which I, though a humble mouthpiece of the +Gospel, am powerless--quite powerless!" + +She relaxed her defiant attitude, and moved away from him; the +shadow of a smile was on her lips. + +"It is not my fault if the people are foolish," she said coldly; "I +have never done harm to any one that I know of." And turning +abruptly, she seemed about to enter the house, but the minister +dexterously placed himself in her way, and barred her passage. + +"Stay, oh, stay!" he exclaimed with unctuous fervor. "Pause, +unfortunate girl, ere you reject the strong shield and buckler that +the Lord has, in His great mercy, offered you, in my person! For I +must warn you,--Froken Thelma, I must warn you seriously of the +danger you run! I will not pain you by referring to the grave +charges brought against your father, who is, alas! in spite of my +spiritual wrestling with the Lord for his sake, still no better than +a heathen savage; no! I will say nothing of this. But what,--what +shall I say,"--here he lowered his voice to a tone of mysterious and +weighty reproach,--"what shall I say of your most unseemly and +indiscreet companionship with these worldly young men who are +visiting the Fjord for their idle pastime? Ah dear, dear! This is +indeed a heavy scandal and a sore burden to my soul,--for up to this +time I have, in spite of many faults in your disposition, considered +you were at least of a most maidenly and decorous deportment,--but +now--now! to think that you should, of your own free will and +choice, consent to be the plaything of this idle stroller from the +wicked haunts of fashion,--the hour's toy of this Sir Philip +Errington! Froken Thelma, I would never have believed it of you!" +And he drew himself up with ponderous and sorrowful dignity. + +A burning blush had covered Thelma's face at the mention of +Errington's name, but it soon faded, leaving her very pale. She +changed her position so that she confronted Mr. Dyceworthy,--her +clear blue eyes regarded him steadfastly. + +"Is this what is said of me?" she asked calmly. + +"It is,--it is, most unfortunately!" returned the minister, shaking +his bullet-like head a great many times; then, with a sort of +elephantine cheerfulness, he added, "but what matter? There is time +to remedy these things. I am willing to set myself as a strong +barrier against the evil noises of rumor! Am I selfish or +ungenerous? The Lord forbid it! No matter how _I_ am compromised, no +matter how _I_ am misjudged,--I am still willing to take you as my +lawful wife Froken Thelma,--but," and here he shook his forefinger +at her with a pretended playfulness, "I will permit no more converse +with Sir Philip Errington; no, no! I cannot allow it!. . . I cannot, +indeed!" + +She still looked straight at him,--her bosom rose and fell rapidly +with her passionate breath, and there was such an eloquent breath of +scorn in her face that he winced under it as though struck by a +sharp scourge. + +"You are not worth my anger!" she said slowly, this time without a +tremor in her rich voice. "One must have something to be angry with, +and you--you are nothing! Neither man nor beast,--for men are brave, +and beasts tell no lies! Your wife! I! "and she laughed aloud,--then +with a gesture of command, "Go!" she exclaimed, "and never let me +see your face again!" + +The clear scornful laughter,--the air of absolute authority with +which she spoke,--would have stung the most self-opinionated of men, +even though his conscience were enveloped in a moral leather casing +of hypocrisy and arrogance. And, notwithstanding his invariable air +of mildness, Mr. Dyceworthy had a temper. That temper rose to a +white heat just now,--every drop of blood receded from his +countenance,--and his soft hands clenched themselves in a +particularly ugly and threatening manner. Yet he managed to preserve +his suave composure. + +"Alas, alas!" he murmured. "How sorely my soul is afflicted to see +you thus, Froken! I am amazed--I am distressed! Such language from +your lips! oh fie, fie! And has it come to this! And must I resign +the hope I had of saving your poor soul? and must I withdraw my +spiritual protection from you?" This he asked with a suggestive +sneer of his prim mouth,--and then continued, "I must--alas, I must! +My conscience will not permit me to do more than pray for you! And +as is my duty, I shall, in a spirit of forbearance and charity, +speak warningly to Sir Philip concerning--" + +But Thelma did not permit him to finish his sentence. She sprang +forward like a young leopardess, and with a magnificent outward +sweep of her arm motioned him down the garden path. + +"Out of my sight,--COWARD!" she cried, and then stood waiting for +him to obey her, her whole frame vibrating with indignation like a +harp struck too roughly. She looked so terribly beautiful, and there +was such a suggestive power in that extended bare white arm of hers, +that the minister, though quaking from head to heel with +disappointment and resentment, judged it prudent to leave her. + +"Certainly, I will take my departure, Froken!" he said meekly, while +his teeth glimmered wolfishly through his pale lips, in a snarl more +than a smile. "It is best you should be alone to recover yourself-- +from this--this undue excitement! I shall not repeat my--my--offer; +but I am sure your good sense will--in time--show you how very +unjust and hasty you have been in this matter--and--and you will be +sorry! Yes, indeed! I am quite sure you will be sorry! I wish you +good day, Froken Thelma!" + +She made him no reply, and he turned from the house and left her, +strolling down the flower-bordered path as though he were in the +best of all possible moods with himself and the universe. But, in +truth, he muttered a heavy oath under his breath--an oath that was +by no means in keeping with his godly and peaceful disposition. +Once, as he walked, he looked back,--and saw the woman he coveted +now more than ever, standing erect in the porch, tall, fair and +loyal in her attitude, looking like some proud empress who had just +dismissed an unworthy vassal. A farmer's daughter! and she had +refused Mr. Dyceworthy with disdain! He had much ado to prevent +himself shaking his fist at her! + +"The lofty shall be laid low, and the stiff-necked shall be +humbled," he thought, as with a vicious switch of his stick he +struck off a fragrant head of purple clover. "Conceited fool of a +girl! Hopes to be 'my lady' does she? She had better take care!" + +Here he stopped abruptly in his walk as if a thought had struck +him,--a malignant joy sparkled in his eyes, and he flourished his +stick triumphantly in the air. "I'll have her yet!" he exclaimed +half-aloud. "I'll set Lovisa on her!" And his countenance cleared; +he quickened his pace like a man having some pressing business to +fulfill, and was soon in his boat, rowing towards Bosekop with +unaccustomed speed and energy. + +Meanwhile Thelma stood motionless where he had left her,--she +watched the retreating form of her portly suitor till he had +altogether disappeared,--then she pressed one hand on her bosom, +sighed, and laughed a little. Glancing at the crucifix so lately +restored to her, she touched it with her lips and fastened it to a +small silver chain she wore, and then a shadow swept over her fair +face that made it strangely sad and weary. Her lips quivered +pathetically; she shaded her eyes with her curved fingers as though +the sunlight hurt her,--then with faltering steps she turned away +from the warm stretch of garden, brilliant with blossom, and entered +the house. There was a sense of outrage and insult upon her, and +though in her soul she treated Mr. Dyceworthy's observations with +the contempt they deserved, his coarse allusion to Sir Philip +Errington had wounded her more than she cared to admit to herself. +Once in the quiet sitting-room, she threw herself on her knees by +her father's arm-chair, and laying her proud little golden head down +on her folded arms, she broke into a passion of silent tears. + +Who shall unravel the mystery of a woman's weeping? Who shall +declare whether it is a pain or a relief to the overcharged heart? +The dignity of a crowned queen is capable of utterly dissolving and +disappearing in a shower of tears, when Love's burning finger +touches the pulse and marks its slow or rapid beatings. And Thelma +wept as many of her sex weep, without knowing why, save that all +suddenly she felt herself most lonely and forlorn like Sainte +Beuve's- + + "Colombo gemissante, + Qui demande par pitie + Sa moitie, Sa moitie + loin d'elle absente!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + + "A wicked will, + A woman's will; a cankered grandame's will!" + + King John. + + +"By Jove!" + +And Lorimer, after uttering this unmeaning exclamation, was silent +out of sheer dismay. He stood hesitating and looking in at the door +of the Guldmar's sitting-room, and the alarming spectacle he saw was +the queenly Thelma down on the floor in an attitude of grief,-- +Thelma giving way to little smothered sobs of distress,--Thelma +actually crying! He drew a long breath and stared, utterly +bewildered. It was a sight for which he was unprepared,--he was not +accustomed to women's tears. What should he do? Should he cough +gently to attract her attention, or should he retire on tip-toe and +leave her to indulge her grief as long as she would, without making +any attempt to console her? The latter course seemed almost brutal, +yet he was nearly deciding upon it, when a slight creak of the door +against which he leaned, caused her to look up suddenly. Seeing him, +she rose quickly from her desponding position and faced him, her +cheeks somewhat deeply flushed and her eyes glittering feverishly. + +"Mr. Lorimer!" she exclaimed, forcing a faint smile to her quivering +lips. "You here? Why, where are the others?" + +"They are coming on after me," replied Lorimer, advancing into the +room, and diplomatically ignoring the girl's efforts to hide the +tears that still threatened to have their way. "But I was sent in +advance to tell you not to be frightened. There has been a slight +accident--" + +She grew very pale. "Is it my rather?" she asked tremblingly. "Sir +Philip--" + +"No, no!" answered Lorimer reassuringly. "It is nothing serious, +really, upon my honor! Your father's all right,--so is Phil,--our +lively friend Pierre is the victim. The fact is, we've had some +trouble with Sigurd. I can't think what has come to the boy! He was +as amiable as possible when we started, but after we had climbed +about half-way up the mountain, he took it into his head to throw +stones about rather recklessly. It was only fun, he said. Your +father tried to make him leave off, but he was obstinate. At last, +in a particularly bright access of playfulness, he got hold of a +large flint, and nearly put Phil's eye out with it,--Phil dodged it, +and it flew straight at Duprez, splitting open his cheek in rather +an unbecoming fashion--Don't look so horrified, Miss Guldmar,--it is +really nothing!" + +"Oh, but indeed it is something!" she said, with true womanly +anxiety in her voice. "Poor fellow! I am so sorry! Is he much hurt? +Does he suffer?" + +"Pierre? Oh, no, not a bit of it! He's as jolly as possible! We +bandaged him up in a very artistic fashion; he looks quite +interesting, I assure you. His beauty's spoilt for a time, that's +all. Phil thought you might be alarmed when you saw us bringing home +the wounded,--that is why I came on to tell you all about it." + +"But what can be the matter with Sigurd?" asked the girl, raising +her hand furtively to dash off a few teardrops that still hung on +her long lashes. "And where is he?" + +"Ah, that I can't tell you!" answered Lorimer. "He is perfectly +incomprehensible to-day. As soon as he saw the blood flowing from +Duprez's cheek, he tittered a howl as if some one had shot him, and +away he rushed into the woods as fast as he could go. We called him, +and shouted his name till we were hoarse,--all no use! He wouldn't +come back. I suppose he'll find his way home by himself?" + +"Oh, yes," said Thelma gravely. "But when he comes I will scold him +very much! It is not like him to be so wild and cruel. He will +understand me when I tell him how wrong he has been." + +"Oh, don't break his heart, poor little chap!" said Lorimer easily. +"Your father has given him a terrible scolding already. He hasn't +got his wits about him you know,--he can't help being queer +sometimes. But what have YOU been doing with yourself during our +absence?" And he regarded her with friendly scrutiny. "You were +crying when I came in. Now, weren't you? " + + She met his gaze quite frankly. "Yes!" she replied, with a +plaintive thrill in her voice. "I could not help it! My heart ached +and the tears came. Somehow I felt that everything was wrong,--and +that it was all my fault--" + +"Your fault!" murmured Lorimer, astonished. "My dear Miss Guldmar, +what do you mean? What IS your fault?" + +"Everything!" she answered sadly, with a deep sigh. "I am very +foolish; and I am sure I often do wrong without meaning it. Mr. +Dyceworthy has been here and--" she stopped abruptly, and a wave of +color flushed her face. + +Lorimer laughed lightly. "Dyceworthy!" he exclaimed. "The mystery is +explained! You have been bored by 'the good religious,' as Pierre +calls him. You know what BORING means now, Miss Guldmar, don't you?" +She smiled slightly, and nodded." The first time you visited the +Eulalie, you didn't understand the word, I remember,--ah!" and he +shook his head--"if you were in London society, you'd find that +expression very convenient,--it would come to your lips pretty +frequently, I can tell you!" + +"I shall never see London," she said, with a sort of resigned air. +"You will all go away very soon, and I--I shall be lonely--" + +She bit her lips in quick vexation, as her blue eyes filled again +with tears in spite of herself. + +Lorimer turned away and pulled a chair to the open window. + +"Come and sit down here," he said invitingly. "We shall be able to +see the others coming down the hill. Nothing like fresh air for +blowing away the blues." Then, as she obeyed him, he added, "What +has Dyceworthy been saying to you?" + +"He told me I was wicked," she murmured; "and that all the people +here think very badly of me. But that was not the worst"--and a +little shudder passed over her--"there was something else--something +that made me very angry--so angry!"--and here she raised her eyes +with a gravely penitent air--" Mr. Lorimer, I do not think I have +ever had so bad and fierce a temper before!" + +"Good gracious!" exclaimed Lorimer, with a broad smile. "You alarm +me, Miss Guldmar! I had no idea you were a 'bad, fierce' person,--I +shall get afraid of you--I shall, really!" + +"Ah, you laugh!" and she spoke half-reproachfully. "You will not be +serious for one little moment!" + +"Yes I will! Now look at me," and he assumed a solemn expression, +and drew himself up with an air of dignity. "I am all attention! +Consider me your father-confessor. Miss Guldmar, and explain the +reason of this 'bad, fierce' temper of yours." + +She peeped at him shyly from under her silken lashes. + +"It is more dreadful than you think," she answered in a low tone. +"Mr. Dyceworthy asked me to marry him." + +Lorimer's keen eyes flashed with indignation. This was beyond a +jest,--and he clenched his fist as he exclaimed-- + +"Impudent donkey! What a jolly good thrashing he deserves!. . . and +I shouldn't be surprised if he got it one of these days! And so, +Miss Guldmar,"--and he studied her face with some solicitude--"you +were very angry with him?" + +"Oh yes!" she replied, "but when I told him he was a coward, and +that he must go away, he said some very cruel things--" she stopped, +and blushed deeply; then, as if seized by some sudden impulse, she +laid her small hand on Lorimer's and said in the tone of an +appealing child, "you are very good and kind to me, and you are +clever,--you know so much more than I do! You must help me,--you +will tell me, will you not?. . . if it is wrong of me to like you +all,--it is as if we had known each other a long time and I have +been very happy with you and your friends. But you must teach me to +behave like the girls you have seen in London,--for I could not bear +that Sir Philip should think me wicked!" + +"Wicked!" and Lorimer drew a long breath. "Good heavens! If you knew +what Phil's ideas about you are, Miss Guldmar--" + +"I do not wish to know," interrupted Thelma steadily. "You must +quite understand me,--I am not clever to hide my thoughts, and--and- +-, YOU are glad when you talk sometimes to Sir Philip, are you not?" +He nodded, gravely studying every light and shadow on the fair, +upturned, innocent face. + +"Yes!" she continued with some eagerness, "I see you are! Well, it +is the same with me,--I do love to hear him speak! You know how his +voice is like music, and how his kind ways warm the heart,--it is +pleasant to be in his company--I am sure you also find it so! But +for me,--it seems it is wrong,--it is not wise for me to show when I +am happy. I do not care what other people say,--but I would not have +HIM think ill of me for all the world!" + +Lorimer took her hand and held it in his with a most tender loyalty +and respect. Her naive, simple words had, all unconsciously to +herself, laid bare the secret of her soul to his eyes,--and though +his heart beat with a strange sickening sense of unrest that +flavored of despair, a gentle reverence filled him, such as a man +might feel if some little snow-white shrine, sacred to purity and +peace, should be suddenly unveiled before him. + +"My dear Miss Guldmar," he said earnestly, "I assure you, you have +no cause to be uneasy! You must not believe a word Dyceworthy says-- +every one with a grain of common sense can see what a liar and +hypocrite he is! And as for you, you never do anything wrong,--don't +imagine such nonsense! I wish there were more women like you!" + +"Ah, that is very kind of you!" half laughed the girl, still +allowing her hand to rest in his. "But I do not think everybody +would have such a good opinion." They both started, and their hands +fell asunder as a shadow darkened the room, and Sir Philip stood +before them. + +"Excuse me!" he said stiffly, lifting his hat with ceremonious +politeness. "I ought to have knocked at the door--I--" + +"Why?" asked Thelma, raising her eyebrows in surprise. + +"Yes--why indeed?" echoed Lorimer, with a frank look at his friend. + +"I am afraid,"--and for once the generally good-humored Errington +looked positively petulant--"I am afraid I interrupted a pleasant +conversation!" And he gave a little forced laugh of feigned +amusement, but evident vexation. + +"And if it was pleasant, shall you not make it still more so?" asked +Thelma, with timid and bewitching sweetness, though her heart beat +very fast,--she was anxious. Why was Sir Philip so cold and distant? +He looked at her, and his pent-up passion leaped to his eyes and +filled them with a glowing and fiery tenderness,--her head drooped +suddenly, and she turned quickly, to avoid that searching, longing +gaze. Lorimer glanced from one to the other with, a slight feeling +of amusement. + +"Well Phil," he inquired lazily, "how did you get here so soon? You +must have glided into the garden like a ghost, for I never heard you +coming." + +"So I imagine!" retorted Errington, with, an effort to be sarcastic, +in which he utterly failed as he met his friend's eyes,--then after +a slight and somewhat embarrassed pause he added more mildly! +"Duprez cannot get on very fast,--his wound still bleeds, and he +feels rather faint now and then. I don't think we bandaged him up +properly, and I came on to see if Britta could prepare something for +him." + +"But you will not need to ask Britta," said Thelma quietly, with a +pretty air of authority, "for I shall myself do all for Mr. Duprez. +I understand well how to cure his wound, and I do think he will like +me as well as Britta." And, hearing footsteps approaching, she +looked out at the window. "Here they come!" she exclaimed. "Ah, poor +Monsieur Pierre! he does look very pale! I will go and meet them." + +And she hurried from the room, leaving the two young men together. +Errington threw himself into Olaf Guldmar's great arm-chair, with a +slight sigh. + +"Well?" said Lorimer inquiringly. + +"Well!" he returned somewhat gruffly. + +Lorimer laughed, and crossing the room, approached him and clapped a +hand on his shoulder. + +"Look here, old man!" he said earnestly, "don't be a fool! I know +that 'love maketh men mad,' but I never supposed the lunacy would +lead you to the undesirable point of distrusting your friend,--your +true friend, Phil,--by all the Gods of the past and present!" + +And he laughed again,--a little huskily this time, for there was a +sudden unaccountable and unwished-for lump in his throat, and a +moisture in his eyes which he had not bargained for. Philip looked +up,--and silently held out his hand, which Lorimer as silently +clasped. There was a moment's hesitation, and then the young baronet +spoke out manfully. + +"I'm ashamed of myself, George! I really am! But I tell you, when I +came in and saw you two standing there,--you've no idea what a +picture you made!. . . by Jove!. . . I was furious!" And he smiled. +"I suppose I was jealous!" + +"I suppose you were!" returned Lorimer amusedly. + +"Novel sensation, isn't it? A sort of hot, prickly, 'have-at-thee- +villain' sort of thing; must be frightfully exhausting! But why you +should indulge this emotion at MY expense is what I cannot, for the +life of me, understand!" + +"Well," murmured Errington, rather abashed," you see, her hands were +in yours--" + +"As they will be again, and yet again, I trust!" said Lorimer with +cheery fervor. "Surely you'll allow me to shake hands with your +wife?" + +"I say, George, be quiet!" exclaimed Philip warningly, as at that +moment Thelma passed the window with Pierre Duprez leaning on her +arm, and her father and Macfarlane following. + +She entered the room with the stately step of a young queen,--her +tall, beautiful figure forming a strong contrast to that of the +narrow-shouldered little Frenchman, upon whom she smiled down with +an air of almost maternal protection. + +"You will sit here, Monsieur Duprez," she said, leading him to the +bonde's arm-chair which Errington instantly vacated, "and father +will bring you a good glass of wine. And the pain will be nothing +when I have attended to that cruel wound. But I am so sorry,--so +very sorry, to see you suffer!" + +Pierre did indeed present rather a dismal spectacle. There was a +severe cut on his forehead as well as his cheek; his lace was pale +and streaked with blood, while the hastily-improvised bandages which +were tied under his chin, by no means improved his personal +appearance. His head ached with the pain, and his eyes smarted with +the strong sunlight to which he had been exposed all the day, but +his natural gaiety was undiminished, and he laughed as he answered-- + +"Chere Mademoiselle, you are too good to me! It is a piece of good +fortune that Sigurd threw that stone--yes! since it brings me your +pity! But do not trouble; a little cold water and a fresh +handkerchief is all I need." + +But Thelma was already practicing her own simple surgery for his +benefit. With deft, soft fingers she laid bare the throbbing wound,- +-washed and dressed it carefully and skillfully,--and used with all +such exceeding gentleness, that Duprez closed his eyes in a sort of +rapture during the operation, and wished it could last longer. Then +taking the glass of wine her father brought in obedience to her +order, she said in a tone of mild authority-- + +"Now, you will drink this Monsieur Pierre, and you will rest quite +still till it is time to go back to the yacht; and tomorrow you will +not feel any pain, I am sure. And I do think it will not be an ugly +scar for long." + +"If it is," answered Pierre, "I shall say I received it in a duel! +Then I shall be great--glorious! and all the pretty ladies will love +me!" + +She laughed,--but looked grave a moment afterwards. + +"You must never say what is not true," she said. "It is wrong to +deceive any one,--even in a small matter." + +Duprez gazed up at her wonderingly, feeling very much like a chidden +child. + +"Never say what is not true!" he thought. "Mon Dieu! what would +become of my life?" + +It was a new suggestion, and he reflected upon it with astonishment. +It opened such a wide vista of impossibilities to his mind. + +Meanwhile old Guldmar was engaged in pouring out wine for the other +young men, talking all the time. + +"I tell thee, Thelma mine," he said seriously, "something must be +very wrong with our Sigurd. The poor lad has always been gentle and +tractable, but to-day he was like some wild animal for mischief and +hardihood. I grieve to see it! I fear the time may come when he may +no longer be a safe servant for thee, child!" + +"Oh, father!"--and the girl's voice was full of tender anxiety-- +"surely not! He is too fond of us to do us any harm--he is so docile +and affectionate!" + +"Maybe, maybe!" and the old farmer shook his head doubtfully. "But +when the wits are away the brain is like a ship without ballast-- +there is no safe sailing possible. He would not mean any harm, +perhaps,--and yet in his wild moods he might do it, and be sorry for +it directly afterwards. 'Tis little use to cry when the mischief is +done,--and I confess I do not like his present humor." + +"By-the-by," observed Lorimer, "that reminds me! Sigurd has taken an +uncommonly strong aversion to Phil. It's curious but it's a fact. +Perhaps it is that which upsets his nerves?" + +"I have noticed it myself," said Errington, "and I'm sorry for it, +for I've done him no harm that I can remember. He certainly asked me +to go away from the Altenfjord, and I refused,--I'd no idea he had +any serious meaning in his request. But it's evident he can't endure +my company." + +"Ah, then!" said Thelma simply and sorrowfully, "he must be very +ill,--because it is natural for every one to like you." + +She spoke in perfect good faith and innocence of heart; but +Errington's eyes flashed and he smiled--one of those rare, tender +smiles of his which brightened his whole visage. + +"You are very kind to say so, Miss Guldmar!" + +"It is not kindness; it is the truth!" she replied frankly. + +At that moment a very rosy face and two sparkling eyes peered in at +the door. + +"Yes, Britta!" Thelma smiled; "we are quite ready!" + +Whereupon the face disappeared, and Olaf Guldmar led the way into +the kitchen, which was at the same time the dining-room, and where a +substantial supper was spread on the polished pine table. + +The farmer's great arm-chair was brought in for Duprez, who, though +he declared he was being spoilt by too much attention, seemed to +enjoy it immensely,--and they were all, including Britta, soon +clustered round the hospitable board whereon antique silver and +quaint glasses of foreign make sparkled bravely, their effect +enhanced by the snowy whiteness of the homespun table-linen. + +A few minutes set them all talking gaily. Macfarlane vied with the +ever-gallant Duprez in making a few compliments to Britta, who was +pretty and engaging enough to merit attention, and who, after all, +was something more than a mere servant, possessing, as she did, a +great deal of her young mistress's affection and confidence, and +being always treated by Guldmar himself as one of the family. + +There was no reserve or coldness in the party, and the hum of their +merry voices echoed up to the cross-rafters of the stout wooden +ceiling and through the open door and window, from whence a patch of +the gorgeous afternoon sky could be seen, glimmering redly, like a +distant lake of fire. They were in the full enjoyment of their +repast, and the old farmer's rollicking "Ha, ha, ha!" in response to +a joke of Lorimer's, had just echoed jovially through the room, when +a strong, harsh voice called aloud--"Olaf Guldmar!" + +There was a sudden silence. Each one looked at the other in +surprise. Again the voice called--"Olaf Guldmar!" + +"Well!" roared the bonde testily, turning sharply round in his +chair, "who calls me?" + +"I do!" and the tall, emaciated figure of a woman advanced and stood +on the threshold, without actually entering the room. She dropped +the black shawl that enveloped her, and, in so doing, disordered her +hair, which fell in white, straggling locks about her withered +features, and her dark eyes gleamed maliciously as she fixed them on +the assembled party. Britta, on perceiving her, uttered a faint +shriek, and without considering the propriety of her action, buried +her nut-brown curls and sparkling eyes in Duprez's coat-sleeve, +which, to do the Frenchman justice, was exceedingly prompt to +receive and shelter its fair burden. The bonde rose from his chair, +and his face grew stern. + +"What do you here, Lovisa Elsland? Have you walked her eyes, she +went to sleep. They told me it was death, since then I have known +that death is beautiful!" + +Mr. Dyceworthy coughed,--a little cough of quiet incredulity. He was +not fond of sentiment in any form, and the girl's dreamily pensive +manner annoyed him. Death "beautiful?" Faugh! it was the one thing +of all others that he dreaded; it was an unpleasant necessity, +concerning which he thought as little as possible. Though he +preached frequently on the peace of the grave and the joys of +heaven,--he was far from believing in either,--he was nervously +terrified of illness, and fled like a frightened hare from the very +rumor of any infectious disorder, and he had never been known to +attend a death-bed. And now, in answer to Thelma, he nodded piously +and rubbed his hands, and said-- + +"Yes, yes; no doubt, no doubt! All very proper on your part, I am +sure. But concerning this same image of which I came to speak,--it +is most imperative that you should be brought to recognize it as a +purely carnal object, unfitting a maiden's eyes to rest upon. The +true followers of the Gospel are those who strive to forget the +sufferings of our dear Lord as much as possible,--or to think of +them only in spirit. The minds of sinners, alas! are easily +influenced,--and it is both unseemly and dangerous to gaze freely +upon the carven semblance of the Lord's limbs! Yea, truly, it hath +oft been considered as damnatory to the soul,--more especially in +the cases of women immured as nuns, who encourage themselves in an +undue familiarity with our Lord, by gazing long and earnestly upon +his body nailed to the accursed tree." + +Here Mr. Dyceworthy paused for breath. Thelma was silent, but a +faint smile gleamed on her face. + +"Wherefore," he went on, "I do adjure you, as you desire grace and +redemption, to utterly cast from you the vile trinket, I have,-- +Heaven knows how reluctantly!. . . returned to your keeping,--to +trample upon it, and renounce it as a device of Satan. . ." He +stopped, surprised and indignant, as she raised the much-abused +emblem to her lips and kissed it reverently. + +"It is the sign of peace and salvation," she said steadily, "to me, +at least. You waste your words, Mr. Dyceworthy; I am a Catholic." + +"Oh, say not so!" exclaimed the minister, now thoroughly roused to a +pitch of unctuous enthusiasm. "Say beat me and starve me? You wicked +old woman! How dare you come here? I'm ashamed of you! You +frightened my mother to death--you know you did! .. . . and now you +want to do the same to me! But you won't--I can tell you! I'm old +enough to do as I like, and I'd rather die than live with you!" + +Then, overcome by excitement and temper, she burst out crying, +heedless of Pierre Duprez's smiling nods of approval, and the +admiring remarks he was making under his breath, such as--"Brava, ma +petite! C'est bien fait! c'est joliment bien dit! Mais je crois +bien!" + +Lovisa seemed unmoved; she raised her head and looked, at Guldmar. + +"Is this your answer?" she demanded. + +"By the sword of Odin!" cried the bonde, "the woman must be mad! MY +answer? The girl has spoken for herself,--and plainly enough too! +Art thou deaf, Lovisa Elsland? or are thy wits astray?" + +"My hearing is very good," replied Lovisa calmly, "and my mind, Olaf +Guldmar, is as clear as yours. And, thanks to your teaching in mine +early days,"--she paused and looked keenly at him, but he appeared +to see no meaning in her allusion,--"I know the English tongue, of +which we hear far too much,--too often! There is nothing Britta has +said that I do not understand. But I know well it is not the girl +herself that speaks--it is a demon in her,--and that demon shall be +cast forth before I die! Yea, with the help of the Lord I shall--" +She stopped abruptly and fixed her eyes, glowing with fierce wrath, +on Thelma. The girl met her evil glance with a gentle surprise. +Lovisa smiled malignantly. + +"You know me, I think!" said Lovisa. "You have seen me before?" + +"Often," answered Thelma mildly. "I have always been sorry for you." + +"Sorry for me!" almost yelled the old woman. "Why--why are you sorry +for me?" + +"Do not answer her, child!" interrupted Guldmar angrily. "She is mad +as the winds of a wild winter, and will but vex thee." + +But Thelma laid her hand soothingly on her father's, and smiled +peacefully as she turned her fair face again towards Lovisa. + +"Why?" she said. "Because you seem so very lonely and sad--and that +must make you cross with every one who is happy! And it is a pity, I +think, that you do not let Britta alone--you only quarrel with each +other when you meet. And would you not like her to think kindly of +you when you are dead?" + +Lovisa seemed choking with anger,--her face worked into such hideous +grimaces, that all present, save Thelma, were dismayed at her +repulsive aspect. + +"When I am dead!" she muttered hoarsely. "So you count upon that +already, do you? Ah!. . . but do you know which of us shall die +first!" Then raising her voice with an effort she exclaimed-- + +"Stand forth, Thelma Guldmar! Let me see you closely--face to face!" + +Errington said something in a low tone, and the bonde would have +again interfered, but Thelma shook her head, smiled and rose from +her seat at table. + +"Anything to soothe her, poor soul!" she whispered, as she left +Errington's side and advanced towards Lovisa till she was within +reach of the old woman's hand. She looked like some grand white +angel, who had stepped down from a cathedral altar, as she stood +erect and stately with a gravely pitying expression in her lovely +eyes, confronting the sable-draped, withered, leering hag, who fixed +upon her a steady look of the most cruel and pitiless hatred. + +"Daughter of Satan!" said Lovisa then, in intense piercing tones +that somehow carried with them a sense of awe and horror. "Creature, +in whose veins the fire of hell burns without ceasing,--my CURSE +upon you! My curse upon the beauty of your body--may it grow +loathsome in the sight of all men! May those who embrace you, +embrace misfortune and ruin!--may love betray you and forsake you! +May your heart be broken even as mine has been!--may your bridal bed +be left deserted!--may your children wither and pine from their hour +of birth! Sorrow track you to the grave!--may your death be +lingering and horrible! God be my witness and fulfill my words!" + +And, raising her arms with wild gesture, she turned and left the +house. The spell of stupefied silence was broken with her +disappearance. Old Guldmar prepared to rush after her and force her +to retract her evil speech,--Errington was furious, and Britta cried +bitterly. The lazy Lorimer was excited and annoyed. + +"Fetch her back," he said, "and I'll dance upon her!" + +But Thelma stood where the old woman had left her--she smiled +faintly, but she was very pale. Errington approached her,--she +turned to him and stretched out her hands with a little appealing +gesture. + +"My friend," she said softly, "do you think I deserve so many +curses? Is there something about me that is evil?" + +What Errington would have answered is doubtful,--his heart beat +wildly--he longed to draw those little hands in his own, and cover +them with passionate kisses,--but he was intercepted by old Guldmar, +who caught his daughter in his arms and hugged her closely, his +silvery beard mingling with the gold of her rippling hair. + +"Never fear a wicked tongue, my bird!" said the old man fondly. +"There is naught of harm that would touch thee either on earth or in +heaven,--and a foul-mouthed curse must roll off thy soul like water +from a dove's wing! Cheer thee, my darling--cheer thee! What! Thine +own creed teaches thee that the gentle Mother of Christ, with her +little white angels round her, watches over all innocent maids,--and +thinkest thou she will let an old woman's malice and envy blight thy +young days? No, no! THOU accursed?" And the bonde laughed loudly to +hide the tears that moistened his keen eyes. "Thou art the sweetest +blessing of my heart, even as thy mother was before thee! Come, +come! Raise thy pretty head--here are these merry lads growing long- +faced,--and Britta is weeping enough salt water to fill a bucket! +One of thy smiles will set us all right again,--ay, there now!"--as +she looked up and, meeting Philip's eloquent eyes, blushed, and +withdrew herself gently from her father's arms,--"Let us finish our +supper and think no more of yonder villainous old hag--she is crazy, +I believe, and knows not what she says half her time. Now, Britta, +cease thy grunting and sighing--'twill spoil thy face and will not +mend the hole in thy grandmother's brain!" + +"Wicked, spiteful, ugly old thing!" sobbed Britta; "I'll never, +never, never forgive her!" Then, running to Thelma, she caught her +hand and kissed it affectionately. "Oh, my dear, my dear! To think +she should have cursed you, what dreadful, dreadful wickedness! Oh!" +and Britta looked volumes of wrath. "I could have beaten her black +and blue!" + +Her vicious eagerness was almost comic--every one laughed, including +Thelma, though she pressed the hand of her little servant very +warmly. + +"Oh fie!" said Lorimer seriously. "Little girls mustn't whip their +grandmothers; it's specially forbidden in the Prayer-book, isn't it, +Phil?" + +"I'm sure I don't know!" replied Errington merrily. "I believe there +is something to the effect that a man may not marry his grandmother- +-perhaps that is what you mean?" + +"Ah, no doubt!" murmured Lorimer languidly, as, with the others, he +resumed his seat at the supper-table. "I knew there was a special +mandate respecting one's particularly venerable relations, with a +view to self-guidance in case they should prove troublesome, like +Britta's good grand-mamma. What a frightfully picturesque mouthing +old lady she is!" + +"She is la petroleuse of Norway!" exclaimed Duprez. "She would make +an admirable dancer in the Carmagnole!" + +Macfarlane, who had preserved a discreet silence throughout the +whole scene, here looked up. + +"She's just a screech-owl o' mistaken piety," he said. "She minds me +o' a glowerin' auld warlock of an aunt o' mine in Glasgie, wha sits +in her chair a' day wi' ae finger on the Bible. She says she's gaun +straight to heaven by special invitation o' the Lord, leavin' a' her +blood relations howlin' vainly after her from their roastin' fires +down below. Ma certes! she'll give ye a good rousin' curse if ye +like! She's cursed me ever since I can remember her,--cursed me in +and out from sunrise to sunset,--but I'm no the worse for't as yet,- +-an' it's dootful whether she's any the better." + +"And yet Lovisa Elsland used to be as merry and lissom a lass as +ever stepped," said Guldmar musingly. "I remember her well when both +she and I were young. I was always on the sea at that time,--never +happy unless the waves tossed me and my vessel from one shore to +another. I suppose the restless spirit of my fathers was in me. I +was never contented unless I saw some new coast every six months or +so. Well! . . . Lovisa was always foremost among the girls of the +village who watched me leave the Fjord,--and however long or short a +time I might be absent, she was certain to be on the shore when my +ship came sailing home again. Many a joke I have cracked with her +and her companions--and she was a bonnie enough creature to look at +then, I tell you,--though now she is like a battered figure-head on +a wreck. Her marriage, spoiled her temper,--her husband was as dark +and sour a man as could be met with in all Norway, and when he and +his fishing-boat sank in a squall off the Lofoden Islands, I doubt +if she shed many tears for his loss. Her only daughter's husband +went down in the same storm,--and he but three months wedded,--and +the girl,--Britta's mother,--pined and pined, and even when her +child was born took no sort of comfort in it. She died four years +after Britta's birth--her death was hastened, so I have heard, +through old Lovisa's harsh treatment,--anyhow the little lass she +left behind her had no very easy time of it all alone with her +grandmother,--eh Britta?" + +Britta looked up and shook her head emphatically. + +"Then," went on Guldmar, "when my girl came back the last time from +France, Britta chanced to see her, and, strangely enough,"--here he +winked shrewdly--"took a fancy to her face,--odd, wasn't it? +However, nothing would suit her but that she must be Thelma's +handmaiden, and here she is. Now you know her history,--she would be +happy enough if her grandmother would let her alone; but the silly +old woman thinks the girl is under a spell, and that Thelma is the +witch that works it;"--and the old farmer laughed. "There's a grain +of truth in the notion too, but not in the way she has of looking at +it." + +"All women are witches!" said Duprez. "Britta is a little witch +herself!" + +Britta's rosy cheeks grew rosier at this, and she tossed her +chestnut curls with an air of saucy defiance that delighted the +Frenchman. He forgot his wounded cheek and his disfiguring bandages +in the contemplation of the little plump figure, cased in its close- +fitting scarlet bodice, and the tempting rosy lips that were in such +close proximity to his touch. + +"If it were not for those red hands!" he thought. "Dieu! what a +charming child she would be! One would instantly kill the +grandmother and kiss the granddaughter!" + +And he watched her with admiration as she busied herself about the +supper-table, attending to every one with diligence and care, but +reserving her special services for Thelma, whom she waited on with a +mingled tenderness, and reverence, that were both touching and +pretty to see. + +The conversation now became general, and nothing further occurred to +disturb the harmony and hilarity of the party--only Errington seemed +somewhat abstracted, and answered many questions that were put to +him at haphazard, without knowing, or possibly caring, whether his +replies were intelligible or incoherent. His thoughts were dreamlike +and brilliant with fairy sunshine. He understood at last what poets +meant by their melodious musings, woven into golden threads of song- +-he seemed to have grasped some hitherto unguessed secret of his +being--a secret that filled him with as much strange pain as +pleasure. He felt as though he were endowed with a thousand senses,- +-each one keenly alive and sensitive to the smallest touch,--and +there was a pulsation in his blood that was new and beyond his +control,--a something that beat wildly in his heart at the sound of +Thelma's voice, or the passing flutter of her white garments near +him. Of what use to disguise it from himself any longer? He loved +her! The terrible, beautiful tempest of love had broken over his +life at last; there was no escape from its thunderous passion and +dazzling lightning glory. + +He drew a sharp quick breath--the hum of the gay voices around him +was more meaningless to his ears than the sound of the sea breaking +on the beach below. He glanced at the girl--the fair and innocent +creature who had, in his imagination, risen to a throne of imperial +height, from whence she could bestow on him death or salvation. How +calm she seemed! She was listening with courteous patience to a long +story of Macfarlane's whose Scotch accent rendered it difficult for +her to understand. She was pale, Philip thought, and her eyes were +heavy; but she smiled now and then,--such a smile! Even so sweetly +might the "kiss-worthy" lips of the Greek Aphrodite part, could that +eloquent and matchless marble for once breathe into life. He looked +at her with a sort of fear. Her hands held his fate. What if she +could not love him? What if he must lose her utterly? This idea +overpowered him; his brain whirled, and he suddenly pushed away his +untasted glass of wine, and rose abruptly from the table, heedless +of the surprise his action excited. + +"Hullo, Phil, where are you off to?" cried Lorimer. "Wait for me!" + +"Tired of our company, my lad?" said Guldmar kindly, "You've had a +long day of it,--and what with the climbing and the strong air, no +doubt you'll be glad to turn in." + +"Upon my life, sir," answered Errington, with some confusion, "I +don't know why I got up just now! I was thinking,--I'm rather a +dreamy sort of fellow sometimes, and--" + +"He was asleep, and doesn't want to own it!" interrupted Lorimer +sententiously. "You will excuse him; he means well! He looks rather +seedy. I think, Mr. Guldmar, we'll be off to the yacht. By the way, +you're coming with us to-morrow, aren't you?" + +"Oh yes," said Thelma. "We will sail with you round by Soroe,--it is +weird and dark and grand; but I think it is beautiful. And there are +many stories of the elves and berg-folk, who are said to dwell there +among the deep ravines. Have you heard about the berg-folk?" she +continued, addressing herself to Errington, unaware of the effort he +was making to appear cool and composed in her presence. "No? Then I +must tell you to-morrow." + +They all walked out of the house into the porch, and while her +father was interchanging farewells with the others, she looked at +Sir Philip's grave face with some solicitude. + +"I am afraid you are very tired, my friend?" she asked softly, "or +your head aches,--and you suffer?" + +He caught her hands swiftly and raised them to his lips. + +"Would you care much,--would you care at all, if I suffered?" he +murmured in a low tone. + +Then before she could speak or move, he let go her hands again, and +turned with his usual easy courtesy to Guldmar. "Then we may expect +you without fail to-morrow, sir! Good night!" + +"Good night, my lad!" + +And with many hearty salutations the young men took their departure, +raising their hats to Thelma as they turned down the winding path to +the shore. She remained standing near her father,--and, when the +sound of their footsteps had died away, she drew closer still and +laid her head against his breast. + +"Cold, my bird?" queried the old man. "Why, thou art shivering, +child!--and yet the sunshine is as warm as wine. What ails thee?" + +"Nothing, father!" And she raised her eyes, glowing and brilliant as +stars. "Tell me,--do you think often of my mother now!" + +"Often!" And Guldmar's fine resolute face grew sad and tender. "She +is never absent from my mind! I see her night and day, ay! I can +feel her soft arms clinging round my neck,--why dost thou ask so +strange a question, little one? Is it possible to forget what has +been once loved?" + +Thelma was silent for many minutes. Then she kissed her father and +said "good night." He held her by the hand and looked at her with a +sort of vague anxiety. + +"Art thou well, my child?" he asked. "This little hand burns like +fire,--and thine eyes are too bright, surely, for sleep to visit +them? Art sure that nothing ails thee?" + +"Sure, quite sure," answered the girl with a strange, dreamy smile. +"I am quite well,--and happy!" + +And she turned to enter the house. + +"Stay!" called the father. "Promise me thou wilt think no more of +Lovisa!" + +"I had nearly forgotten her," she responded. "Poor thing! She cursed +me because she is so miserable, I suppose--all alone and unloved; it +must be hard! Curses sometimes turn to blessings, father! Good +night!" + +And she ascended the one flight of wooden stairs in the house to her +own bedroom--a little three-cornered place as clean and white as the +interior of a shell. Never once glancing at the small mirror that +seemed to invite her charms to reflect themselves therein, she went +to the quaint latticed window and knelt down by it, folding her arms +on the sill while she looked far out to the Fjord. She could see the +English flag fluttering from the masts of the Eulalie; she could +almost hear the steady plash of the oars wielded by Errington and +his friends as they rowed themselves back to the yacht. Bright tears +filled her eyes, and brimmed over, falling warmly on her folded +hands. + +"Would I care if you suffered?" she whispered. "Oh, my love!. . . my +love!" + +Then, as if afraid lest the very winds should have heard her half- +breathed exclamation, she shut her window in haste, and a hot blush +crimsoned her cheeks. + +Undressing quickly, she slipped into her little white bed and, +closing her eyes, fancied she slept, though her sleep was but a +waking dream of love in which all bright hopes reached their utmost +fulfillment, and yet were in some strange way crossed with shadows +which she had no power to disperse. And later on, when old Guldmar +slumbered soundly, and the golden mid-night sunshine lit up every +nook and gable of the farmhouse with its lustrous glory, making +Thelma's closed lattice sparkle like a carven jewel,--a desolate +figure lay prone on the grass beneath her window, with meagre pale +face, and wide-open wild blue eyes upturned to the fiery brilliancy +of the heavens. Sigurd had come home;--Sigurd was repentant, +sorrowful, ashamed,--and broken-hearted. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + + "O Love! O Love! O Gateway of Delight! + Thou porch of peace, thou pageant of the prime + Of all God's creatures! I am here to climb + Thine upward steps, and daily and by night + To gaze beyond them and to search aright + The far-off splendor of thy track sublime." + + ERIC MACKAY'S Love-letters of a Violinist. + + +On the following morning the heat was intense,--no breath of wind +stirred a ripple on the Fjord, and there was a heaviness in the +atmosphere which made the very brightness of the sky oppressive. +Such hot weather was unusual for that part of Norway, and according +to Valdemar Svensen, betokened some change. On board the Eulalie +everything was ready for the trip to Soroe,--steam was getting up +prior to departure,--and a group of red-capped sailors stood +prepared to weigh the anchor as soon as the signal was given. +Breakfast was over,--Macfarlane was in the saloon writing his +journal, which he kept with great exactitude, and Duprez, who, on +account of his wound, was considered something of an invalid, was +seated in a lounge chair on deck, delightedly turning over a bundle +of inflammatory French political journals received that morning. +Errington and Lorimer were pacing the deck arm in arm, keeping a +sharp look-out for the first glimpse of the returning boat which had +been sent off to fetch Thelma and her father. Errington looked vexed +and excited,--Lorimer bland and convincing. + +"I can't help it, Phil!" he said. "It's no use fretting and fuming +at me. It was like Dyceworthy's impudence, of course,--but there's +no doubt he proposed to her,--and it's equally certain that she +rejected him. I thought I'd tell you you had a rival,--not in me, as +you seemed to think yesterday,--but in our holy fat friend." + +"Rival! pshaw!" returned Errington, with an angry laugh. "He is not +worth kicking!" + +"Possibly not! Still I have a presentiment that he's the sort of +fellow that won't take 'no' for an answer. He'll dodge that poor +girl and make her life miserable if he can, unless--" + +"Unless what?" asked Philip quickly. + +Lorimer stopped in his walk, and, leaning against the deck-railings, +looked his friend straight in the eyes. + +"Unless you settle the matter," he said with a slight effort. "You +love her,--tell her so!" + +Errington laid one hand earnestly on his shoulder. + +"Ah, George, you don't understand!" he said in a low tone, while his +face was grave and full of trouble. "I used to think I was fairly +brave, but I find I am a positive coward. I dare not tell her! She-- +Thelma--is not like other women. You may think me a fool,--I dare +say you do,--but I swear to you I am afraid to speak, because-- +because, old boy,--if she were to refuse me,--if I knew there was no +hope--well, I don't want to be sentimental,--but my life would be +utterly empty and worthless,--so useless, that I doubt if I should +care to live it out to the bitter end!" + +Lorimer heard him in silence,--a silence maintained partly out of +sympathy, and partly that he might keep his own feelings well under +control. + +"But why persist in looking at the gloomy side of the picture?" he +said at last. "Suppose she loves you?" + +"Suppose an angel flew down from Heaven!" replied Philip, with +rather a sad smile. "My dear fellow, who am I that I should flatter +myself so far? If she were one of those ordinary women to whom +marriage is the be-all and end-all of existence, it would be +different--but she is not. Her thoughts are like those of a child or +a poet,--why should I trouble them by the selfishness of my passion? +for all passion IS selfish, even at its best. Why should I venture +to break the calm friendship she may have for me, by telling her of +a love which might prove unwelcome!" + +Lorimer looked at him with gentle amusement depicted in his face. + +"Phil, you are less conceited than I thought you were," he said, +with a light laugh, "or else you are blind--blind as a bat, old man! +Take my advice,--don't lose any more time about it. Make the 'king's +daughter of Norroway' happy,. . . "and a brief sigh escaped him. +"You are the man to do it. I am surprised at your density; Sigurd, +the lunatic, has more perception. He sees which way the wind blows,- +-and that's why he's so desperately unhappy. He thinks--and thinks +rightly too--that he will lose his 'beautiful rose of the northern +forest,' as he calls her,--and that you are to be the robber. Hence +his dislike to you. Dear me!" and Lorimer lit a cigarette and puffed +at it complacently. "It seems to me that my wits are becoming +sharper as I grow older, and that yours, my dear boy,--pardon me!. . +. are getting somewhat blunted, otherwise you would certainly have +perceived--" he broke off abruptly. + +"Well, go on!" exclaimed Philip eagerly, with flashing eyes. +"Perceived what?" + +Lorimer laughed. "That the boat containing your Sun-empress is +coming along very rapidly, old fellow, and that you'd better make +haste to receive her!" + +This was the fact, and Duprez had risen from his chair and was +waving his French newspaper energetically to the approaching +visitors. Errington hastened to the gangway with a brighter flush +than usual on his handsome face, and his heart beating with a new +sense of exhilaration and excitement. If Lorimer's hints had any +foundation of truth--if Thelma loved him ever so little--how wild a +dream it seemed!. . . why not risk his fate? He resolved to speak to +her that very day if opportunity favored him,--and, having thus +decided, felt quite masterful and heroic about it. + +This feeling of proud and tender elation increased when Thelma +stepped on deck that morning and laid her hands in his. For, as he +greeted her and her father, he saw at a glance that she was slightly +changed. Some restless dream must have haunted her--or his hurried +words beneath the porch, when he parted from her the previous +evening, had startled her and troubled her mind. Her blue eyes were +no longer raised to his in absolute candor,--her voice was timid, +and she had lost something of her usual buoyant and graceful self- +possession. But she looked lovelier than ever with that air of shy +hesitation and appealing sweetness. Love had thrown his network of +light about her soul and body till, like Keats's "Madeleine," + + "She seemed a splendid angel newly drest + Save wings, for heaven!" + +As soon as the Guldmars were on board, the anchor was weighed with +many a cheery and musical cry from the sailors; the wheel revolved +rapidly under Valdemar Svensen's firm hand,--and with a grand +outward sweeping curtsy to the majestic Fjord she left behind her, +the Eulalie steamed away, cutting a glittering line of white foam +through the smooth water as she went, and threading her way swiftly +among the clustering picturesque islands,--while the inhabitants of +every little farm and hamlet on the shores, stopped for a while in +their occupations to stare at the superb vessel, and to dreamily +envy the wealth of the English Herren who could afford to pass the +summer months in such luxury and idleness. Thelma seated herself at +once by Duprez, and seemed glad to divert attention from herself to +him. + +"You are better, Monsieur Duprez, are you not?" she asked gently. +"We saw Sigurd this morning; he came home last night. He is very, +very sorry to have hurt you!" + +"He need not apologize," said Duprez cheerfully. "I am delighted he +gave me this scar, otherwise I am confident he would have put out +the eye of Phil-eep. And that would have been a misfortune! For what +would the ladies in London say if le beau Errington returned to them +with one eye! Mon Dieu! they would all be en desespoir!" + +Thelma looked up. Philip was standing at some little distance with +Olaf Guldmar and Lorimer, talking and laughing gaily. His cap was +slightly pushed off his forehead, and the sun shone on his thick +dark-chestnut curls; his features, warmly colored by the wind and +sea, were lit up with mirth, and his even white teeth sparkled in an +irresistible smile of fascinating good-humor. He was the beau-ideal +of the best type of Englishman, in the full tide of youth, health +and good spirits. + +"I suppose he is a great favorite with all those beautiful ladies?" +she asked very quietly. + +Something of gentle resignation in her tone struck the Frenchman's +sense of chivalry; had she been like any ordinary woman, bent on +conquest, he would have taken a mischievous delight in inventing a +long list of fair ones supposed to be deeply enamored of Errington's +good looks,--but this girl's innocent inquiring face inspired him +with quite a different sentiment. + +"Mais certainement!" he said frankly and emphatically. "Phil-eep is +a favorite everywhere! Yet not more so with women than with men. I +love him extremely--he is a charming boy! Then you see, chere +Mademoiselle, he is rich,--very rich,--and there are so many pretty +girls who are very poor,--naturally they are enchanted with our +Errington--voyez-vous?" + +"I do not understand," she said, with a puzzled brow. "It is not +possible that they should like him better because he is rich. He +would be the same man without money as with it--it makes no +difference!" + +"Perhaps not to you," returned Duprez, with a smile; "but to many it +would make an immense difference! Chere Mademoiselle, it is a grand +thing to have plenty of money,--believe me!" + +Thelma shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps," she answered +indifferently. "But one cannot spend much on one's self, after all. +The nuns at Arles used to tell me that poverty was a virtue, and +that to be very rich was to be very miserable. They were poor,--all +those good women,--and they were always cheerful." + +"The nuns! ah, mon Dieu!" cried Duprez. "The darlings know not the +taste of joy--they speak of what they cannot understand! How should +they know what it is to be happy or unhappy, when they bar their +great convent doors against the very name of love!" + +She looked at him, and her color rose. + +"You always talk of love" she said, half reproachfully, "as if it +were so common a thing! You know it is sacred--why will you speak as +if it were all a jest?" + +A strange emotion of admiring tenderness stirred Pierre's heart--he +was very impulsive and impressionable. + +"Forgive me!" he murmured penitently. Then he added suddenly, "You +should have lived ages ago, ma belle,--the world of to-day will not +suit you! You will be made very sorrowful in it, I assure you,--it +is not a place for good women!" + +She laughed. "You are morose," she said. "That is not like you! No +one is good,--we all live to try and make ourselves better." + +"What highly moral converse is going on here?" inquired Lorimer, +strolling leisurely up to them. "Are you giving Duprez a lecture, +Miss Guldmar? He needs it,--so do I. Please give me a scolding!" + +And he folded his hands with an air of demure appeal. + +A sunny smile danced in the girl's blue eyes. "Always you will be +foolish! "she said. "One can never know you because I am sure you +never show your real self to anybody. No,--I will not scold you, but +I should like to find you out!" + +"To find me out!" echoed Lorimer. "Why, what do you mean?" + +She nodded her bright head with much sagacity. + +"Ah, I do observe you often! There is something you hide; it is like +when my father has tears in his eyes; he pretends to laugh, but the +tears are there all the time. Now I see in you--" she paused, and +her questioning eyes rested on his, seriously. + +"This is interesting!" said Lorimer, lazily drawing a camp-stool +opposite to her, and seating himself thereon. "I had no idea I was a +human riddle. Can you read me, Miss Guldmar?" + +"Yes," she answered slowly and meditatively. "Just a little. But I +will not say anything; no--except this--that you are not altogether +what you seem." + +"Here, Phil!" called Lorimer, as he saw Errington approaching, arm +in arm with Olaf Guldmar, "come and admire this young lady's power +of perception. She declares I am not such a fool as I look!" + +"Now," said Thelma, shaking her forefinger at him, "you know very +well that I did not put it in that way. But is it not true, Sir +Philip--" and she looked up for a moment, though her eyes drooped +again swiftly under his ardent gaze, "is it not true that many +people do hide their feelings, and pretend to be quite different to +what they are?" + +"I should say it was a very common fault," replied Errington. "It is +a means of self-defense against the impertinent curiosity of +outsiders. But Lorimer is free from it,--he has nothing to hide. At +any rate, he has no secrets from me,--I'm sure of that!" And he +clapped his hand heartily on his friend's shoulder. + +Lorimer flushed slightly, but made no remark, and at that moment +Macfarlane emerged from the saloon, where the writing of his journal +had till now detained him. In the general handshaking and +salutations which followed, the conversation took a different turn, +for which Lorimer was devoutly thankful. His face was a tell-tale +one,--and he was rather afraid of Philip's keen eyes. "I hope to +Heaven he'll speak to her to-day," he thought, vexedly. "I hate +being in suspense! My mind will be easier when I once know that he +has gained his point,--and that there's not the ghost of a chance +for any other fellow!" + +Meanwhile the yacht skimmed along by the barren and rocky coast of +Seiland; the sun was dazzling; yet there was a mist in the air as +though the heavens were full of unshed tears. A bank of nearly +motionless clouds hung behind the dark, sharp peaks of the +Altenguard mountains, which now lay to the southward, as the vessel +pursued her course. There was no wind; the flag on the mast flapped +idly now and then with the motion of the yacht; and Thelma found +herself too warm with her pretty crimson hood,--she therefore +unfastened it and let the sunshine play on the uncovered gold of her +hair. They had a superb view of the jagged glacier of Jedke,--black +in some parts, and in others white with unmelted snow,--and seeming, +as it rose straight up against the sky, to be the majestic monument +of some giant Viking. Presently, at her earnest request, Errington +brought his portfolio of Norwegian sketches for Thelma to look at; +most of them were excellently well done, and elicited much +admiration from the bonde. + +"It is what I have wondered at all my life," said he, "that skill of +the brush dipped in color. Pictures surprise me as much as poems. +Ah, men are marvellous creatures, when they are once brought to +understand that they ARE men,--not beasts! One will take a few words +and harmonize them into a song or a verse that clings to the world +for ever; another will mix a few paints and dab a brush in them, and +give you a picture that generation after generation shall flock to +see. It is what is called genius,--and genius is a sort of miracle. +Yet I think it is fostered by climate a good deal,--the further +north, the less inspiration. Warmth, color, and the lightness of +heart that a generally bright sky brings, enlarges the brain and +makes it capable of creative power." + +"My dear sir," said Lorimer, "England does not possess these +climatic advantages, and yet Shakespeare was an Englishman." + +"He must have travelled," returned Guldmar positively. "No one will +make me believe that the man never visited Italy. His Italian scenes +prove it,--they are full of the place and the people. The whole of +his works, full of such wonderful learning, and containing so many +types of different nations, show,--to MY mind, at least,--that +countries were his books of study. Why I, who am only a farmer and +proprietor of a bit of Norwegian land,--I have learned many a thing +from simply taking a glance at a new shore each year. That's the way +I used to amuse myself when I was young,--now I am old, the sea +tempts me less, and I am fonder of my arm-chair; yet I've seen a +good deal in my time--enough to provide me with memories for my +declining days. And it's a droll thing, too," he added, with a +laugh, "the further south you go, the more immoral and merry are the +people; the further north, the more virtuous and miserable. There's +a wrong balance somewhere,--but where, 'tis not easy to find out." + +"Weel," said Macfarlane, "I can give ye a direct contradeection to +your theory. Scotland lies to the north, and ye'll not find a +grander harvest o' sinfu' souls anywhere between this an' the day o' +judgment. I'm a Scotchman, an' I'm just proud o' my country--I'd +back its men against a' the human race,--but I wadna say much for +the stabeelity o' its women. I wad just tak to my heels and run if I +saw a real, thumpin', red-cheeked, big-boned Scotch lassie makin' up +to me. There's nae bashfulness in they sort, and nae safety." + +"I will go to Scotland!" said Duprez enthusiastically. "I feel that +those--what do you call them, lassies?--will charm, me!" + +"Scotland I never saw," said Guldmar. "From all I have heard, it +seems to me 'twould be too much like Norway. After one's eyes have +rested long on these dark mountains and glaciers, one likes now and +then to see a fertile sunshiny stretch of country such as France, or +the plains of Lombardy. Of course there may be exceptions, but I +tell you climatic influences have a great deal to do with the state +of mind and morals. Now, take the example of that miserable old +Lovisa Elsland. She is the victim of religious mania--and religious +mania, together with superstition of the most foolish kind, is +common in Norway. It happens often during the long winters; the +people have not sufficient to occupy their minds; no clergyman--not +even Dyceworthy--can satisfy the height of their fanaticism. They +preach and pray and shriek and groan in their huts; some swear that +they have the spirit of prophecy,--others that they are possessed of +devils,--others imagine witchcraft, like Lovisa--and altogether +there is such a howling on the name of Christ, that I am glad to be +out of it,--for 'tis a sight to awaken the laughter and contempt of +a pagan such as I am!" + +Thelma listened with a slight shadow of pain on her features. + +"Father is not a pagan," she declared, turning to Lorimer. "How can +one be pagan if one believes that there is good in everything,--and +that nothing happens except for the best?" + +"It sounds to me more Christian than pagan," averred Lorimer, with a +smile. "But it's no use appealing to ME on such matters, Miss +Guldmar. I am an advocate of the Law of Nothing. I remember a worthy +philosopher who,--when he was in his cups,--earnestly assured me it +was all right--'everything was nothing, and nothing was everything.' +'You are sure that is so?' I would say to him. 'My dear young +friend--HIC--I am positive! I have--HIC--worked out the problem +with--HIC--care!' And he would shake me by the hand warmly, with a +mild and moist smile, and would retire to bed walking sideways in +the most amiable manner. I'm certain his ideas were correct as well +as luminous." + +They laughed, and then looking up saw that they were passing a +portion of the coast of Seiland which was more than usually +picturesque. Facing them was a great cavernous cleft in the rocks, +tinted with a curious violet hue intermingled with bronze,--and in +the strong sunlight these colors flashed with the brillancy of +jewels, reflecting themselves in the pale slate-colored sea. By +Errington's orders the yacht slackened speed, and glided along with +an almost noiseless motion,--and they were silent, listening to the +dash and drip of water that fell invisibly from the toppling crags +that frowned above, while the breathless heat and stillness of the +air added to the weird solemnity of the scene. They all rose from +their chairs and leaned on the deck-rails, looking, but uttering no +word. + +"In one of these islands," said Thelma at last, very softly--"it was +either Seiland or Soroe--they once found the tomb of a great chief. +There was an inscription outside that warned all men to respect it, +but they laughed at the warning and opened the tomb. And they saw, +seated in a stone chair, a skeleton with a gold crown on its head +and a great carved seal in its hand, and at its feet there was a +stone casket. The casket was broken open, and it was full of gold +and jewels. Well, they took all the gold and jewels, and buried the +skeleton--and now,--do you know what happens? At midnight a number +of strange persons are seen searching on the shore and among the +rocks for the lost treasure, and it is said they often utter cries +of anger and despair. And those who robbed the tomb all died +suddenly." + +"Served them right!" said Lorimer. "And now they are dead, I suppose +the wronged ghosts don't appear any more?" + +"Oh yes, they do," said Guldmar very seriously. "If any sailor +passes at midnight, and sees them or hears their cries, he is +doomed." + +"But DOES he see or hear them?" asked Errington, with a smile. + +"Well, I don't know," returned Guldmar, with a grave shake of his +head. "I'm not superstitious myself, but I should be sorry to say +anything against the berg-folk. You see they MAY exist, and it's no +use offending them." + +"And what do ye mean by the berg-folk?" inquired Macfarlane. + +"They are supposed to be the souls of persons who died impenitent," +said Thelma, "and they are doomed to wander, on the hills till the +day of judgment. It is a sort of purgatory." + +Duprez shook his fingers emphatically in the air. + +"Ah, bah!" he said; "what droll things remain still in the world! +Yes, in spite of liberty, equality, fraternity! You do not believe +in foolish legends, Mademoiselle? For example,--do you think you +will suffer purgatory?" + +"Indeed yes!" she replied. "No one can be good enough to go straight +to heaven. There must be some little stop on the way in which to be +sorry for all the bad things one has done." + +"'Tis the same idea as ours," said Guldmar. "We have two places of +punishment in the Norse faith; one, Nifleheim, which is a temporary +thing like the Catholic purgatory; the other Nastrond, which is the +counterpart of the Christian hell. Know you not the description of +Nifleheim in the Edda?--'tis terrible enough to satisfy all tastes. +'Hela, or Death rules over the Nine Worlds of Nifleheim. Her hall is +called Grief. Famine is her table, and her only servant is Delay. +Her gate is a precipice, her porch Faintness, her bed Leanness,-- +Cursing and Howling are her tent. Her glance is dreadful and +terrifying,--and her lips are blue with the venom of Hatred.' These +words," he added," sound finer in Norwegian, but I have given the +meaning fairly." + +"Ma certes!" said Macfarlane chuckling. "I'll tell my aunt in +Glasgie aboot it. This Nifleheim wad suit her pairfectly,--she wad +send a' her relations there wi' tourist tickets, not available for +the return journey!" + +"It seems to me," observed Errington, "that the Nine Worlds of +Nifleheim have a resemblance to the different circles of Dante's +Purgatory." + +"Exactly so," said Lorimer. "All religions seem to me to be more or +less the same,--the question I can never settle is,--which is the +right one?" + +"Would you follow it if you knew?" asked Thelma, with a slight +smile. Lorimer laughed. + +"Well, upon my life, I don't know!" he answered frankly, "I never +was a praying sort of fellow,--I don't seem to grasp the idea of it +somehow. But there's one thing I'm certain of,--I can't endure a +bird without song,--a flower without scent, or a WOMAN without +religion--she seems to me no woman at all." + +"But ARE there any such women?" inquired the girl surprised. + +"Yes, there are undoubtedly! Free-thinking, stump-orator, have-your- +rights sort of creatures. YOU don't know anything about them, Miss +Guldmar--be thankful! Now, Phil, how long is this vessel of yours +going to linger here?" + +Thus reminded, Errington called to the pilot, and in a few minutes +the Eulalie resumed her usual speed, and bore swiftly on towards +Soroe. This island, dreary and dark in the distance, grew somewhat +more inviting in aspect on a nearer approach. Now and then a shaft +of sunlight fell on some glittering point of felspar or green patch +of verdure.--and Valdemar Svensen stated that he knew of a sandy +creek where, if the party chose, they could land and see a small +cave of exquisite beauty, literally hung all over with stalactites. + +"I never heard of this cave," said Guldmar, fixing a keen eye on the +pilot. "Art thou a traveller's guide to all such places in Norway?" + +Somewhat to Errington's surprise, Svensen changed color and appeared +confused; moreover, he removed his red cap altogether when he +answered the bonde, to whom he spoke deferentially in rapid +Norwegian. The old man laughed as he listened, and seemed satisfied; +then, turning away, he linked his arm through Philip's, and said, + +"You must pardon him, my lad, that he spoke in your presence a +tongue unfamiliar to you. No offense was meant. He is of my creed, +but fears to make it known, lest he should lose all employment-- +which is likely enough, seeing that so many of the people are +fanatics. Moreover, he is bound to me by an oath,--which in olden +days would have made him my serf,--but which leaves him free enough +just now,--with one exception." + +"And that exception?" asked Errington with some interest. + +"Is, that should I ever demand a certain service at his hands, he +dare not refuse it. Odd, isn't it? or so it seems to you," and +Guldmar pressed the young man's arm lightly and kindly; "but our +Norse oaths, are taken with great solemnity, and are as binding as +the obligation of death itself. However, I have not commanded +Valdemar's obedience yet, nor do I think I am likely to do so for +some time. He is a fine, faithful fellow,--though too much given to +dreams." + +A gay chorus of laughter here broke from the little group seated on +deck, of which Thelma was the centre,--and Guldmar stopped in his +walk, with an attentive smile on his open, ruddy countenance. + +"'Tis good for the heart to hear the merriment of young folks," he +said. "Think you not my girl's laugh is like the ripple of a lark's +song? just so clear and joyous?" + +"Her voice is music itself!" declared Philip quickly and warmly. +"There is nothing she says, or does, or looks,--that is not +absolutely beautiful!" + +Then, suddenly aware of his precipitation, he stopped abruptly. His +face flushed as Guldmar regarded him fixedly, with a musing and +doubtful air. But whatever the old man thought, he said nothing. He +merely held the young baronet's arm a little closer, and together +they joined the others,--though it was noticeable that during the +rest of the day the bonde was rather abstracted and serious,--and +that every now and then his eyes rested on his daughter's face with +an expression of tender yearning and melancholy. + +It was about two hours after luncheon that the Eulalie approached +the creek spoken of by the pilot, and they were all fascinated by +the loveliness as well as by the fierce grandeur of the scene. The +rocks on that portion of Soroe appeared to have split violently +asunder to admit some great in-rushing passage of the sea, and were +piled up in toppling terraces to the height of more than two +thousand feet above the level of the water. Beneath these wild and +craggy fortresses of nature a shining stretch of beach had formed +itself, on which the fine white sand, mixed with crushed felspar, +sparkled like powdered silver. On the left-hand side of this beach +could be distinctly seen the round opening of the cavern to which +Valdemar Svensen directed their attention. They decided to visit it- +-the yacht was brought to a standstill, and the long-boat lowered. +They took no sailors with them, Errington and his companions rowing +four oars, while Thelma and her father occupied the stern. A landing +was easily effected, and they walked toward the cavern, treading on +thousands of beautiful little shells which strewed the sand beneath +their feet. There was a deep stillness everywhere--the island was so +desolate that it seemed as though the very seabirds refused to make +their homes in the black clefts of such steep and barren rocks. + +At the entrance of the little cave Guldmar looked back to the sea. + +"There's a storm coming!" he announced. "Those clouds we saw this +morning have sailed thither almost as quickly as ourselves!" + +The sky had indeed grown darker, and little wrinkling waves +disturbed the surface of the water. But the sun as yet retained his +sovereignty, and there was no wind. By the pilot's advice, Errington +and his friends had provided themselves each with a pine torch, in +order to light up the cavern as soon as they found themselves within +it. The smoky crimson flare illuminated what seemed at a first +glance to be a miniature fairy palace studded thickly with clusters +of diamonds. Long pointed stalactites hung from the roof at almost +mathematically even distances from one another,--the walls glistened +with varying shades of pink and green and violet,--and in the very +midst of the cave was a still pool of water in which all the +fantastic forms and hues of the place mirrored themselves in +miniature. In one corner the stalactites had clustered into the +shape of a large chair overhung by a canopy, and Duprez perceiving +it, exclaimed--he listened, and seemed satisfied; then, turning +away, he linked his arm through Philip's, and said, + +"You must pardon him, my lad, that he spoke in your presence a +tongue unfamiliar to you. No offense was meant. He is of my creed, +but fears to make it known, lest he should lose all employment-- +which is likely enough, seeing that so many of the people are +fanatics. Moreover, he is bound to me by an oath,--which in olden +days would have made him my serf,--but which leaves him free enough +just now,--with one exception." + +"And that exception?" asked Errington with some interest. + +"Is, that should I ever demand a certain service at his hands, he +dare not refuse it. Odd, isn't it? or so it seems to you," and +Guldmar pressed the young man's arm lightly and kindly; "but our +Norse oaths, are taken with great solemnity, and are as binding as +the obligation of death it self. However, I have not commanded +Valdemar's obedience yet, nor do I think I am likely to do so for +some time. He is a fine, faithful fellow,--though too much given to +dreams." + +A gay chorus of laughter here broke from the little group seated on +deck, of which Thelma was the centre,--and Guldmar stopped in his +walk, with an attentive smile on his open, ruddy countenance. + +"'Tis good for the heart to hear the merriment of young folks," he +said. "Think you not my girl's laugh is like the ripple of a lark's +song? just so clear and joyous?" + +"Her voice is music itself!" declared Philip quickly and warmly. +"There is nothing she says, or does, or looks,--that is not +absolutely beautiful!" + +Then, suddenly aware of his precipitation, he stopped abruptly. His +face flushed as Guldmar regarded him fixedly, with a musing and +doubtful air. But whatever the old man thought, he said nothing. He +merely held the young baronet's arm a little closer, and together +they joined the others,--though it was noticeable that during the +rest of the day the bonde was rather abstracted and serious,--and +that every now and then his eyes rested on his daughter's face with +an expression of tender yearning and melancholy. + +It was about two hours after luncheon that the Eulalie approached +the creek spoken of by the pilot, and they were all fascinated by +the loveliness as well as by the fierce out to the blessed sunshine +again--"maybe we can climb one of yon wild rocks and get a view +worth seeing." + +"All right, sir!" said Lorimer, chivalrously resolving that now +Errington should have a chance. "Come on, Mac! Allons, marchons,-- +Pierre! Mr. Guldmar exacts our obedience! Phil, you take care of the +queen!" + +And skillfully pushing on Duprez and Macfarlane before him, he +followed Guldmar, who preceded them all,--thus leaving his friend in +a momentary comparative solitude with Thelma. The girl was a little +startled as she saw them thus taking their departure, and sprang up +from her stalactite throne in haste. Sir Philip had laid aside his +torch in order to assist her with both hands to descend the sloping +rocks; but her embarrassment at being left almost alone with him +made her nervous and uncertain of foot,--she was hurried and +agitated and anxious to overtake the others, and in trying to walk +quickly she slipped and nearly fell. In one second she was caught in +his arms and clasped passionately to his heart. + +"Thelma! Thelma!" he whispered, "I love you, my darling--I love +you!" + +She trembled in his strong embrace, and strove to release herself, +but he pressed her more closely to him, scarcely knowing that he did +so, but feeling that he held the world, life, time, happiness, and +salvation in this one fair creature. His brain was in a wild whirl-- +the glitter of the stalactite cave turned to a gyrating wheel of +jewel-work, there was nothing any more--no universe, no existence-- +nothing but love, love, love, beating strong hammer-strokes through +every fibre of his frame. He glanced up, and saw that the slowly +retreating forms of his friends had nearly reached the outer opening +of the cavern. Once there, they would look back and-- + +"Quick, Thelma!" and his warm breath touched her cheek. "My darling! +my love! if you are not angry,--kiss me! I shall understand." + +She hesitated. To Philip that instant of hesitation seemed a cycle +of slow revolving years. Timidly she lifted her head. She was very +pale, and her breath came and went quickly. He gazed at her in +speechless suspense,--and saw as in a vision the pure radiance of +her face and star-like eyes shining more and more closely upon him. +Then came a touch,--soft and sweet as a roseleaf pressed against his +lips,--and for one mad moment he remembered nothing,--he was caught +up like Homer's Paris in a cloud of gold, and knew not which was +earth or heaven. + +"You love me, Thelma?" he murmured in a sort of wondering rapture. +"I cannot believe it, sweet! Tell me--you love me?" + +She looked up. A new, unspeakable glory flushed her face, and her +eyes glowed with the mute eloquence of awakening passion. + +"Love you?" she said in a voice so low and sweet that it might have +been the whisper of a passing fairy. "Ah, yes! more than my life!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +"Sweet hands, sweet hair, sweet cheeks, sweet eyes, sweet mouth; +Each singly wooed and won!" + + Dante Rosetti. + + +"Hillo, ho!" shouted Guldmar vociferously, peering back into the +shadows of the cavern from whence the figures of his daughter and +Errington were seen presently emerging. "Why, what kept you so long, +my lad? We thought you were close behind us. Where's your torch?" + +"It went out," replied Philip promptly, as he assisted Thelma with +grave and ceremonious politeness to cross over some rough stones at +the entrance, "and we had some trouble to find our way." + +"Ye might hae called to us i' the way o' friendship," observed +Macfarlane somewhat suspiciously, "and we wad hae lighted ye +through." + +"Oh, it was no matter!" said Thelma, with a charming smile. "Sir +Philip seemed well to know the way, and it was not so very dark!" + +Lorimer glanced at her and read plainly all that was written in her +happy face. His heart sank a little; but, noticing that the old +bonde was studying his daughter with a slight air of vexation and +surprise, he loyally determined to divert the general attention from +her bright blushes and too brilliantly sparkling eyes. + +"Well!. . . here you both are, at any rate," he said lightly, "and I +should strongly advise that we attempt no more exploration of the +island of Soroe to-day. Look at the sky; and just now there was a +clap of thunder." + +"Thunder?" exclaimed Errington. "I never heard it!" + +"I dare say not!" said Lorimer, with a quiet smile. "Still WE heard +it pretty distinctly, and I think we'd better make for the yacht." + +"All right!" and Sir Philip sprang gaily into the longboat to +arrange the cushions in the stern for Thelma. Never had he looked +handsomer or more high-spirited, and his elation was noticed by all +his companions. + +"Something joyous has happened to our Phil-eep," said Duprez in a +half-whisper. "He is in the air!" + +"And something in the ither way has happened vera suddenly to Mr. +Guldmar," returned Macfarlane. "Th' auld man is in the dumps." + +The bonde's face in truth looked sad and somewhat stern. He scarcely +spoke at all as he took his place in the boat beside his daughter,-- +once he raised her little hand, looked at it, and kissed it fondly. + +They were all soon on their way back to the Eulalie over a sea that +had grown rough and white-crested during their visit to the +stalactite cave. Clouds had gathered thickly over the sky, and +though a few shafts of sunlight still forced a passage through them, +the threatening darkness spread with steady persistency, especially +to the northern side of the horizon, where Storm hovered in the +shape of a black wing edged with coppery crimson. As they reached +the yacht a silver glare of lightning sprang forth from beneath this +sable pinion, and a few large drops of rain began to fall. Errington +hurried Thelma on deck and down into the saloon. His friends, with +Guldmar, followed,--and the vessel was soon plunging through waves +of no small height on her way back to the Altenfjord. A loud peal of +thunder like a salvo of artillery accompanied their departure from +Soroe, and Thelma shivered a little as she heard it. + +"You are nervous, Mademoiselle Guldmar?" asked Duprez, noticing her +tremor. + +"Oh no," she answered brightly. "Nervous? That is to be afraid,--I +am not afraid of a storm, but I do not like it. It is a cruel, +fierce thing; and I should have wished to-day to be all sunshine-- +all gladness!" She paused, and her eyes grew soft and humid. + +"Then you have been happy to-day?" said Lorimer in a low and very +gentle voice. + +She smiled up at him from the depths of the velvet lounge in which +Errington had placed her. + +"Happy? I do not think I have ever been so happy before!" She +paused, and a bright blush crimsoned her cheeks; then, seeing the +piano open, she said suddenly "Shall I sing to you? or perhaps you +are all tired, and would rather rest?" + +"Music IS rest," said Lorimer rather dreamily, watching her as she +rose from her seat,--a tall, supple, lithe figure,--and moved +towards the instrument. "And YOUR voice. Miss Guldmar, would soothe +the most weary soul that ever dwelt in clay." + +She glanced round at him, surprised at his sad tone. + +"Ah, you are very, very tired, Mr. Lorimer, I am sure! I will sing +you a Norse cradle-song to make you go to sleep. You will not +understand the words though--will that matter?" + +"Not in the least!" answered Lorimer, with a smile. "The London +girls sing in German, Italian, Spanish, and English. Nobody knows +what they are saying: they scarcely know themselves--but it's all +right, and quite fashionable." + +Thelma laughed gaily. "How funny!" she exclaimed. "It is to amuse +people, I suppose! Well,--now listen." And, playing a soft prelude, +her rich contralto rippled forth in a tender, passionate, melancholy +melody,--so sweet and heart-penetrating that the practical +Macfarlane sat as one in a dream,--Duprez forgot to finish making +the cigarette he was daintily manipulating between his fingers, and +Lorimer had much ado to keep tears from his eyes. From one song she +glided to another and yet another; her soul seemed possessed by the +very spirit of music. Meanwhile Errington, in obedience to an +imperative sign from old Guldmar, left the saloon, with him,--once +outside the doors the bonde said in a somewhat agitated voice-- + +"I desire to speak to you, Sir Philip, alone and undisturbed, if +such a thing be possible." + +"By all means!" answered Philip. "Come to my 'den' on deck. We shall +be quite solitary there." + +He led the way, and Olaf Guldmar followed him in silence. + +It was raining fiercely, and the waves, green towers of strength, +broke every now and then over the sides of the yacht with a hissing +shower of salt white spray. The thunder rolled along the sky in +angry reverberating echoes,--frequent flashes of lightning leaped +out like swords drawn from dark scabbards,--yet towards the south +the sky was clearing, and arrowy beams of pale gold fell from the +hidden sun, with a soothing and soft lustre on the breast of the +troubled water. + +Guldmar looked about him, and heaved a deep sigh of refreshment. His +eyes rested lovingly on the tumbling billows,--he bared his white +head to the wind and rain. + +"This is the life, the blood, the heart of a man!" he said, while a +sort of fierce delight shone in his keen eyes. "To battle with the +tempest,--to laugh at the wrath of waters,--to set one's face +against the wild wind,--to sport with the elements as though they +were children or serfs,--this is the joy of manhood! A joy," he +added slowly, "that few so-called men of to-day can ever feel." + +Errington smiled gravely. "Perhaps you are right, sir," he said; +"but perhaps, at the same time, you forget that life has grown very +bitter to all of us during the last hundred years or so. Maybe the +world is getting old and used up, maybe the fault is in ourselves,-- +but it is certain that none of us nowadays are particularly happy, +except at rare intervals when--" + +At that moment, in a lull of the storm, Thelma's voice pealed +upwards from the saloon. She was singing a French song, and the +refrain rang out clearly-- + +"Ah! le doux son d'un baiser tendre!" + +Errington paused abruptly in his speech, and turning towards a +little closed and covered place on deck which was half cabin, half +smoking-room, and which he kept as his own private sanctum, he +unlocked it, saying-- + +"Will you come in here, sir? It's not very spacious, but I think +it's just the place for a chat,--especially a private one." + +Guldmar entered, but did not sit down,--Errington shut the door +against the rain and beating spray and also remained standing. After +a pause, during which the bonde seemed struggling with some inward +emotion, he said resolutely-- + +"Sir Philip, you are a young man, and I am an old one. I would not +willingly offend you--for I like you--yes!" And the old man looked +up frankly: "I like you enough to respect you--which is more than I +can say to many men I have known! But I have a weight on my heart +that must be lifted. You and my child have been much together for +many days,--and I was an old fool not to have foreseen the influence +your companionship might have upon her. I may be mistaken in the +idea that has taken hold of me--some wild words let fall by the poor +boy Sigurd this morning, when he entreated my pardon for his +misconduct of yesterday, have perhaps misled my judgment,--but--by +the gods! I cannot put it into suitable words! I--" + +"You think I love your daughter?" said Sir Philip quietly. "You are +not mistaken, Sir! I love her with my whole heart and soul! I want +you to give her to me as my wife." + +A change passed over the old farmer's face. He grew deathly pale, +and put out one hand feebly as though to seek some support. +Errington caught it in his own and pressed it hard. + +"Surely you are not surprised, Sir?" he added with eagerness. "How +can I help loving her! She is the best and loveliest girl I have +ever seen! Believe me,--I would make her happy!" + +"And have you thought, young man," returned Guldmar slowly, "that +you would make me desolate?--or, thinking it, have you cared?" + +There was an infinite pathos in his voice, and Errington was touched +and silent. He found no answer to this reproach. Guldmar sat down, +leaning his head on his hand. + +"Let me think a little," he said. "My mind is confused a bit. I was +not prepared for--" + +He paused and seemed lost in sorrowful meditation. By-and-by he +looked up, and meeting Errington's anxious gaze, he broke into a +short laugh. + +"Don't mind me, my lad!" he said sturdily. "'Tis a blow, you see! I +had not thought so far as this. I'll tell you the plain truth, and +you must forgive me for wronging you. I know what young blood is, +all the world over. A fair face fires it--and impulse makes it +gallop beyond control. 'Twas so with me when I was your age,--though +no woman, I hope, was ever the worse for my harmless lovemaking. But +Thelma is different from most women,--she has a strange nature,-- +moreover, she has a heart and a memory,--if she once learns the +meaning of love, she will never unlearn the lesson. Now, I thought, +that like most young men of your type, you might, without meaning +any actual evil, trifle with her--play with her feelings--" + +"I understand, Sir," said Philip coolly, without displaying any +offense. "To put it plainly, in spite of your liking for me, you +thought me a snob." + +This time the old man laughed heartily and unforcedly. + +"Dear, dear!" he exclaimed. "You are what is termed in your own +land, a peppery customer! Never mind--I like it. Why, my lad, the +men of to-day think it fair sport to trifle with a pretty woman now +and then--" + +"Pardon!" interrupted Philip curtly. "I must defend my sex. We MAY +occasionally trifle with those women who show us that they wish to +be trifled with--but never with those who, like your daughter, win +every man's respect and reverence." + +Guldmar rose and grasped his hand fervently. + +"By all the gods, I believe you are a true gentleman!" he said. "I +ask your pardon if I have offended you by so much as a thought. But +now"--and his face grew very serious--"we must talk this matter +over. I will not speak of the suddenness of your love for my child, +because I know, from my own past experience, that love is a rapid +impulse--a flame ignited in a moment. Yes, I know that well!" He +paused, and his voice trembled a little, but he soon steadied it and +went on--"I think, however, my lad, that you have been a little +hasty,--for instance, have you thought what your English friends and +relatives will say to your marrying a farmer's daughter who,--though +she has the blood of kings in her veins,--is, nevertheless, as this +present world would judge, beneath you in social standing? I say, +have you thought of this?" + +Philip smiled proudly. "Certainly, sir, I have NOT thought of any +such trifle as the opinion of society,--if that is what you mean. I +have no relatives to please or displease--no friends in the truest +sense of the world except Lorimer. I have a long list of +acquaintances undoubtedly,--infinite bores, most of them,--and +whether they approve or disapprove of my actions is to me a matter +of profound indifference." + +"See you!" said the bonde firmly and earnestly. "It would be an ill +day for me if I gave my little one to a husband who might--mind! I +only say MIGHT,--in the course of years, regret having married her." + +"Regret!" cried Philip excitedly, then quieting down, he said +gently. "My good friend, I do not think you understand me. You talk +as if Thelma were beneath ME. Good God! It is _I_ who am infinitely +beneath HER! I am utterly unworthy of her in every way, I assure +you--and I tell you so frankly. I have led a useless life, and a +more or less selfish one. I have principally sought to amuse and +interest myself all through it. I've had my vices to, and have them +still. Beside Thelma's innocent white soul, mine looks villainous! +But I can honestly say I never knew what love was till I saw her,-- +and now--well! I would give my life away gladly to save her from +even a small sorrow." + +"I believe you--I thoroughly believe you!" said Guldmar. "I see you +love the child. The gods forbid that I should stand in the way of +her happiness! I am getting old, and 'twas often a sore point with +me to know what would become of my darling when I was gone,--for she +is fair to look upon, and there are many human wolves ready to +devour such lambs. Still, my lad, you must learn all. Do you know +what is said of me in Bosekop?" + +Errington smiled and nodded in the affirmative. + + "You do?" exclaimed the old man, somewhat surprised. "You know they +say I killed my wife--my wife! the creature before whom my soul +knelt in worship night and day--whose bright head was the sunlight +of life! Let me tell you of her, Sir Philip--'tis a simple story. +She was the child of my dearest friend, and many years younger than +myself. This friend of mine, Erik Erlandsen, was the captain of a +stout Norwegian barque, running constantly between these wild waters +and the coast of France. He fell in love with, and married a blue- +eyed beauty from the Sogne Fjord, he carried her secretly away from +her parents, who would not consent to the marriage. She was a timid +creature, in spite of her queenly ways, and, for fear of her +parents, she would never land again on the shores of Norway. She +grew to love France,--and Erik often left her there in some safe +shelter when he was was bound on some extra long and stormy passage. +She took to the Catholic creed, too, in France, and learned to speak +the French tongue, so Erik said, as though it were her own. At the +time of the expected birth of her child, her husband had taken her +far inland to Arles, and there business compelled him to leave her +for some days. When he returned she was dead!--laid out for burial, +with flowers and tapers round her. He fell prone on her body +insensible,--and not for many hours did the people of the place dare +to tell him that he was the father of a living child--a girl, with +the great blue eyes and white skin of her mother. He would scarce +look at it--but at last, when roused a bit, he carried the little +thing in his arms to the great Convent at Arles, and, giving the +nuns money, he bade them take it and bring it up as they would, only +giving it the name of Thelma. Then poor Erlandsen came home--he +sought me out:--he said, 'Olaf, I feel that I am going on my last +voyage. Promise you will see to my child--guard her, if you can, +from an evil fate! For me there is no future!' I promised, and +strove to cheer him--but he spoke truly--his ship went down in a +storm on the Bay of Biscay, and all on board were lost. Then it was +that I commenced my journeyings to and fro, to see the little maiden +that was growing up in the Convent at Arles. I watched her for +sixteen years--and when she reached her seventeenth birthday, I +married her and brought her to Norway." + +"And she was Thelma's mother?" said Errington with interest. + +"She was Thelma's mother," returned the bonde, "and she was more +beautiful than even Thelma is now. Her education had been almost +entirely French, but, as a child, she had learnt that I generally +spoke English, and as there happened to be an English nun in the +Convent, she studied that language and mastered it for the love of +me--yes!" he repeated with musing tenderness, "all for the love of +me,--for she loved me, Sir Philip--ay! as passionately as I loved +her, and that is saying a great deal! We lived a solitary happy +life,--but we did not mix with our neighbors--our creeds were +different,--our ways apart from theirs. We had some time of perfect +happiness together. Three years passed before our child was born, +and then"--the bonde paused awhile, and again continued,--"then my +wife's health grew frail and uncertain. She liked to be in the fresh +air, and was fond of wandering about the hills with her little one +in her arms. One day--shall I ever forget it! when Thelma was about +two and a half years old, I missed them both, and went out to search +for them, fearing my wife had lost her way, and knowing that our +child could not toddle far without fatigue. I found them"--the bonde +shuddered-" but how? My wife had slipped and fallen through a chasm +in the rocks,--high enough, indeed, to have killed her,--she was +alive, but injured for life. She lay there white and motionless-- +little Thelma meanwhile sat smilingly on the edge of the rock, +assuring me that her mother had gone to sleep 'down there.' Well!" +and Guldmar brushed the back of his hand across his eyes, "to make a +long story short, I carried my darling home in my arms a wreck--she +lingered for ten years of patient suffering, ten long years! She +could only move about on crutches,--the beauty of her figure was +gone--but the beauty of her face grew more perfect every day! Never +again was she seen on the hills,--and so to the silly folks of +Bosekop she seemed to have disappeared. Indeed, I kept her very +existence a secret,--I could not endure that others should hear of +the destruction of all that marvellous grace and queenly loveliness! +She lived long enough to see her daughter blossom into girlhood,-- +then,--she died. I could not bear to have her laid in the damp, +wormy earth--you know in our creed earth-burial is not practiced,-- +so I laid her tenderly away in a king's tomb of antiquity,--a tomb +known only to myself and one who assisted me to lay her in her last +resting-place. There she sleeps right royally,--and now is your mind +relieved, my lad? For the reports of the Bosekop folk must certainly +have awakened some suspicions in your mind?" + +"Your story has interested me deeply, sir," said Errington; "but I +assure you I never had any suspicions of you at all. I always +disregard gossip--it is generally scandalous, and seldom true. +Besides, I took your face on trust, as you took mine." + +"Then," declared Guldmar, with a smile, "I have nothing more to +say,--except"--and he stretched out both hands--"may the great gods +prosper your wooing! You offer a fairer fate to Thelma than I had +dreamed of for her--but I know not what the child herself may say--" + +Philip interrupted him. His eyes flashed, and he smiled. + +"She loves me!" he said simply. Guldmar looked at him, laughed a +little, and sighed. + +"She loves thee?" he said, relapsing into the THEE and THOU he was +wont to use with his daughter. "Thou hast lost no time, my lad? When +didst thou find that out?" + +"To-day!" returned Philip, with that same triumphant smile playing +about his lips. "She told me so--yet even now I cannot believe it!" + +"Ah, well, thou mayest believe it truly," said Guldmar, "for Thelma +says nothing that she does not mean! The child has never stooped to +even the smallest falsehood." + +Errington seemed lost in a happy dream. Suddenly he roused himself +and took Guldmar by the arm. + +"Come," he said, "let us go to her! She will wonder why we are so +long absent. See! the storm has cleared--the sun is shining. It is +understood? You will give her to me?" + +"Foolish lad!" said Guldmar gently. "What have I to do with it? She +has given herself to thee! Love has overwhelmed both of your hearts, +and before the strong sweep of such an ocean what can an old man's +life avail? Nothing--less than nothing! Besides, I SHOULD be happy-- +if I have regrets,--if I feel the tooth of sorrow biting at my +heart--'tis naught but selfishness. 'Tis my own dread of parting +with her"--his voice trembled, and his fine face quivered with +suppressed emotion. + +Errington pressed his arm. "Our house shall be yours, sir!" he said +eagerly. "Why not leave this place and come with us?" + +Guldmar shook his head. "Leave Norway!" he said--"leave the land of +my fathers--turn my back on these mountains and fjords and glaziers? +Never! No, no, my lad, you're kind-hearted and generous as becomes +you, and I thank you from my heart. But 'twould be impossible! I +should be like a caged eagle, breaking my wings against the bars of +English conventionalities. Besides, young birds must make their nest +without interference from the old ones." + +He stepped out on deck as Errington opened the little cabin door, +and his features kindled with enthusiasm as he looked on the stretch +of dark mountain scenery around him, illumined by the brilliant +beams of the sun that shone out now in full splendor, as though in +glorious defiance of the retreating storm, which had gradually +rolled away in clouds that were tumbling one over the other at the +extreme edge of the northern horizon, like vanquished armies taking +to hasty flight. + +"Could I stand the orderly tameness of your green England, think +you, after this?" he exclaimed, with a comprehensive gesture of his +hand. "No, no! When death comes--and 'twill not be long coming--let +it find me with my face turned to the mountains, and nothing but +their kingly crests between me and the blessed sky! Come, my lad!" +and he relapsed into his ordinary tone. "If thou art like me when I +was thy age, every minute passed away from thy love seems an +eternity! Let us go to her--we had best wait till the decks are dry +before we assemble up here again." + +They descended at once into the saloon, where they found Thelma +being initiated into the mysteries of chess by Duprez, while +Macfarlane and Lorimer looked idly on. She glanced up from the board +as her father and Errington entered, and smiled at them both with a +slightly heightened color. + +"This is such a wonderful game, father!" she said. "And I am so +stupid, I cannot understand it! So Monsieur Pierre is trying to make +me remember the moves." + +"Nothing is easier!" declared Duprez. "I was showing you how the +bishop goes, so--cross-ways," and he illustrated his lesson. "He is +a dignitary of the Church, you perceive Bien! it follows that he +cannot go in a straight line,--if you observe them well, you will +see that all the religious gentlemen play at cross purposes. You are +very quick, Mademoiselle Guldmar,--you have perfectly comprehended +the move of the Castle, and the pretty plunge of the knight. Now, as +I told you, the queen can do anything--all the pieces shiver in +their shoes before her!" + +"Why?" she asked, feeling a little embarrassed, as Sir Philip came +and sat beside her, looking at her with an undoubtedly composed air +of absolute proprietorship. + +"Why? Enfin, the reason is simple!" answered Pierre. "The queen is a +woman,--everything must give way to her wish!" + +"And the king?" she inquired. + +"Ah! Le pauvre Roi! He can do very little--almost nothing! He can +only move one step at a time, and that with much labor and +hesitation--he is the wooden image of Louis XVI!" + +"Then," said the girl quickly, "the object of the game is to protect +a king who is not worth protecting!" + +Duprez laughed. "Exactly! And thus, in this charming game, you have +the history of many nations! Mademoiselle Guldmar has put the matter +excellently! Chess is for those who intend to form republics. All +the worry and calculation--all the moves of pawns, bishops, knights, +castles, and queens,--all to shelter the throne which is not worth +protecting! Excellent! Mademoiselle, you are not in favor of +monarchies!" + +"I do not know," said Thelma; "I have never thought of such things. +But kings should be great men,--wise and powerful, better and braver +than all their subjects, should they not?" + +"Undoubtedly!" remarked Lorimer; "but, it's a curious thing, they +seldom are. Now, our queen, God bless her--" + +"Hear, hear!" interrupted Errington, laughing good-humoredly. "I +won't have have a word said against the dear old lady, Lorimer! +Granted that she hates London, and sees no fun in being stared at by +vulgar crowds, I think she's quite right,--and I sympathize heartily +with her liking for a cup of tea in peace and quiet with some old +Scotch body who doesn't care whether she's a queen or a +washerwoman." + +"I think," said Macfarlane slowly, "that royalty has its duties, ye +see, an' though I canna say I object to Her Majesty's homely way o' +behavin', still there are a few matters that wad be the better for +her pairsonal attention." + +"Oh bother!" said Errington gaily. "Look at that victim of the +nation, the Prince of Wales! The poor fellow hasn't a moment's peace +of his life,--what with laying foundation stones, opening museums, +inspecting this and visiting that, he is like a costermonger's +donkey, that must gee-up or gee-wo as his master, the people bid. If +he smiles at a woman, it is instantly reported that he's in love +with her,--if he frankly says he considers her pretty, there's no +end to the scandal. Poor royal wretch! I pity him from my heart! The +unwashed, beer-drinking, gin-swilling classes, who clamor for +shortened hours of labor, and want work to be expressly invented for +their benefit, don't suffer a bit more than Albert Edward, who is +supposed to be rolling idly in the very lap of luxury, and who can +hardly call his soul his own. Why, the man can't eat a mutton-chop +without there being a paragraph in the papers headed, 'Diet of the +Prince of Wales.' His life is made an infinite bore to him, I'm +positive!" + +Guldmar looked thoughtful. "I know little about kings or princes," +he said, "but it seems to me, from what I DO know, that they have +but small power. They are mere puppets. In olden times they +possessed supremacy, but now--" + +"I will tell you," interrupted Duprez excitedly, "who it is that +rules the people in these times,--it is the PEN--MADAME LA PLUME. A +little black, sharp, scratching devil she is,--empress of all +nations! No crown but a point,--no royal robe save ink! It is +certain that as long as Madame la Plume gambols freely over her +realms of paper, so long must kings and autocrats shake in their +shoes and be uncertain of their thrones. Mon Dieu! if I had but the +gift of writing, I would conquer the world!" + +"There are an immense number of people writing just now, Pierre," +remarked Lorimer, with a smile, "yet they don't do much in the +conquering line." + +"Because they are afraid!" said Duprez. "Because they have not the +courage of their opinions! Because they dare not tell the truth!" + +"Upon my life, I believe you are right!" said Errington. "If there +were a man bold enough to declare truths and denounce lies, I should +imagine it quite possible that he might conquer the world,--or, at +any rate, make it afraid of him." + +"But is the world so full of lies?" asked Thelma timidly. + +Lorimer looked at her gravely. "I fear so, Miss Guldmar! I think it +has a tolerable harvest of them every year,--a harvest, too, that +never fails! But I say, Phil! Look at the sun shining! Let us go up +on deck,--we shall soon be getting back to the Altenfjord." + +They all rose, threw on their caps, and left the saloon with the +exception of Errington, who lingered behind, watching his +opportunity, and as Thelma followed her father he called her back +softly-- + +"Thelma!" + +She hesitated, and then turned towards him,--her father saw her +movement, smiled at her, and nodded kindly, as he passed through the +saloon doors and disappeared. With a beating heart, she sprang +quickly to her lover's side, and as he caught her in his arms, she +whispered-- + +"You have told him?" + +"Your father? Yes, my darling!" murmured Philip, as he kissed her +sweet, upturned lips. "Be quite happy--he knows everything. Come, +Thelma! tell me again you love me--I have not heard you say it +properly yet!" + +She smiled dreamily as she leaned against his breast and looked up +into his eyes. + +"I cannot say it properly!" she said. "There is no language for my +heart! If I could tell you all I feel, you would think it foolish, I +am sure, because it is all so wild and strange,"--she stopped, and +her face grew pale,--"oh!" she murmured with a slight tremor; "it is +terrible!" + +"What is terrible, my sweet one?" asked Errington drawing her more +closely, and folding her more tightly in his arms. + +She sighed deeply. "To have no more life of my own!" she answered, +while her low voice quivered with intense feeling." It has all gone- +-to you! And yours has come to me!--is it not strange and almost +sad? How your heart beats, poor boy!--I can hear it throb, throb--so +fast!--here, where I am resting my head. "She looked up, and her +little white hand caressed his cheek. "Philip," she said very +softly, "what are you thinking about? Your eyes shine so brightly-- +do you know you have beautiful eyes?" + +"Have I?" he murmured abstractedly, looking down on that exquisite, +innocent, glowing face, and trembling with the force of the +restrained passion that kindled through him. "I don't know about +that!--yours seem to me like two stars fallen from heaven! Oh, +Thelma, my darling!--God make me worthy of you." + +He spoke with intense fervor,--kissing her with a tenderness, in +which there was something of reverence as well as fear. The whole +soul of the man was startled and roused to inexpressible devotion, +by the absolute simplicity and purity of her nature--the direct +frankness with which she had said her life was his--his!--and in +what way was HE fitted to be the guardian and possessor of this +white lily from the garden of God? She was so utterly different to +all women as he had known them--as different as a bird of paradise +to a common house-sparrow. Meanwhile, as these thoughts flitted +through his brain, she moved gently from his embrace and smiled +proudly, yet sweetly. + +"Worthy of me?" she said softly and wonderingly. "It is I that will +pray to be made worthy of YOU! You must not put it wrongly, Philip!" + +He made no answer, but looked at her as she stood before him, +majestic as a young empress in her straight, unadorned white gown. + +"Thelma!" he said suddenly, "do you know how lovely you are?" + +"Yes!" she answered simply; "I know it, because I am like my mother. +But it is not anything to be beautiful,--unless one is loved,--and +then it is different! I feel much more beautiful now, since you +think me pleasant to look at!" + +Philip laughed and caught her hand. "What a child you are!" he said. +"Now let me see this little finger." And he loosened from his watch- +chain a half-hoop ring of brilliants. "This belonged to my mother, +Thelma," he continued gently, "and since her death I have always +carried it about with me. I resolved never to part with it, except +to--" He paused and slipped it on the third finger of her left hand, +where it sparkled bravely. + +She gazed at it in surprise. "You part with it now?" she asked, with +wonder in her accents. "I do not understand!" + +He kissed her. "No? I will explain again, Thelma!--and you shall not +laugh at me as you did the very first time I saw you! I resolved +never to part with this ring, I say, except to--my promised wife. +NOW do you understand?" + +She blushed deeply, and her eyes dropped before his ardent gaze. + +"I do thank you very much, Philip,"--she faltered timidly,--she was +about to say something further when suddenly Lorimer entered the +saloon. He glanced from Errington to Thelma, and from Thelma back +again to Errington,--and smiled. So have certain brave soldiers been +known to smile in face of a death-shot. He advanced with his usual +languid step and nonchalant air, and removing his cap, bowed gravely +and courteously. + +"Let me be the first to offer my congratulations to the future Lady +Errington! Phil, old man!. . . I wish you joy!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +"Why, sir, in the universal game of double-dealing, shall not the +cleverest tricksters play each other false by haphazard, and so +betray their closest secrets, to their own and their friends' +infinite amazement?"-Congreve + + +When Olaf Guldmar and his daughter left the yacht that evening, +Errington accompanied them, in order to have the satisfaction of +escorting his beautiful betrothed as far as her own door. They were +all three very silent--the bonde was pensive, Thelma shy, and +Errington himself was too happy for speech. Arriving at the +farmhouse, they saw Sigurd curled up under the porch, playing idly +with the trailing rose-branches, but, on hearing their footsteps, he +looked up, uttered a wild exclamation, and fled. Guldmar tapped his +own forehead significantly. + +"He grows worse and worse, the poor lad!" he said somewhat +sorrowfully. "And yet there is a strange mingling of foresight and +wit with his wild fancies. Wouldst thou believe it, Thelma, child," +and here he turned to his daughter and encircled her waist with his +arm--"he seemed to know how matters were with thee and Philip, when +I was yet in the dark concerning them!" + +This was the first allusion her father had made to her engagement, +and her head drooped with a sort of sweet shame. + +"Nay, now, why hide thy face?" went on the old man cheerily. "Didst +thou think I would grudge my bird her summer-time? Not I! And little +did I hope for thee, my darling, that thou wouldst find a shelter +worthy of thee in this wild world!" He paused a moment, looking +tenderly down upon her, as she nestled in mute affection against his +breast,--then addressing himself to Errington, he went on-- + +"We have a story in our Norse religion, my lad, of two lovers who +declared their passion to each other, on one stormy night in the +depth of winter. They were together in a desolate hut on the +mountains, and around them lay unbroken tracts of frozen snow. They +were descended from the gods, and therefore the gods protected them- +-and it happened that after they had sworn their troth, the doors of +the snow-bound hut flew suddenly open, and lo! the landscape had +changed--the hills were gay with grass and flowers,--the sky was +blue and brilliant, the birds sang, and everywhere was heard the +ripple of waters let loose from their icy fetters, and gamboling +down the rocks in the joyous sun. This was the work of the goddess +Friga,--the first kiss exchanged by the lovers she watched over, +banished Winter from the land, and Spring came instead. 'Tis a +pretty story, and true all the world over--true for all men and +women of all creeds! It must be an ice-bound heart indeed that will +not warm to the touch of love--and mine, though aged, grows young +again in the joy of my children." He put his daughter gently from +him to-wards Philip, saying with more gravity, "Go to him, child!-- +go--with thy old father's blessing! And take with thee the three +best virtues of a wife,--truth, humility, and obedience. Good night, +my son!" and he wrung Errington's hand with fervor. "You'll take +longer to say good night to Thelma," and he laughed, "so I'll go in +and leave you to it!" + +And with a good-natured nod, he entered the house whistling a tune +as he went, that they might not think he imagined himself lonely or +neglected,--and the two lovers paced slowly up and down the garden- +path together, exchanging those first confidences which to outsiders +seem so eminently foolish, but which to those immediately concerned +are most wonderful, delightful, strange, and enchanting beyond all +description. Where, from a practical point of view, is the sense of +such questions as these--"When did you love me first?" "What did you +feel when I said so-and-so?" "Have you dreamt of me often?" "Will +you love me always, always, always?" and so on ad infinitum. +"Ridiculous rubbish!" exclaims the would-be strong-minded, but +secretly savage old maid,--and the selfishly matter-of-fact, but +privately fidgety and lonely old bachelor. Ah! but there are those +who could tell you that at one time or another of their lives this +"ridiculous rubbish" seemed far more important than the decline and +fall of empires,--more necessary to existence than light and air,-- +more fraught with hope, fear, suspense, comfort, despair, and +anxiety than anything that could be invented or imagined! Philip and +Thelma,--man and woman in the full flush of youth, health, beauty, +and happiness,--had just entered their Paradise,--their fairy- +garden,--and every little flower and leaf on the way had special, +sweet interest for them. Love's indefinable glories,--Love's proud +possibilities,--Love's long ecstasies,--these, like so many spirit- +figures, seemed to smile and beckon them on, on, on, through golden +seas of sunlight,--through flower-filled fields of drowsy +entrancement,--through winding ways of rose-strewn and lily-scented +leafage,--on, on, with eyes and hearts absorbed in one another,-- +unseeing any end to the dreamlike wonders that, like some heavenly +picture-scroll, unrolled slowly and radiantly before them. And so +they murmured those unwise, tender things which no wisdom in the +world has ever surpassed, and when Philip at last said "Good night!" +with more reluctance than Romeo, and pressed his parting kiss on his +love's sweet, fresh mouth,--the riddle with which he had puzzled +himself so often was resolved at last,--life WAS worth living, worth +cherishing, worth ennobling. The reason of all things seemed clear +to him,--Love, and Love only, supported, controlled, and grandly +completed the universe! He accepted this answer to all +perplexities,--his heart expanded with a sense of large content--his +soul was satisfied. + +Meanwhile, during his friend's absence from the yacht, Lorimer took +it upon himself to break the news to Duprez and Macfarlane. These +latter young gentlemen had had their suspicions already, but they +were not quite prepared to hear them so soon confirmed. Lorimer told +the matter in his own way. + +"I say, you fellows!" he remarked carelessly, as he sat smoking in +their company on deck, "you'd better look out! If you stare at Miss +Guldmar too much, you'll have Phil down upon you!" + +"Ha, ha!" exclaimed Duprez slyly, "the dear Phil-eep is in love?" + +"Something more than that," said Lorimer, looking absently at the +cigarette he held between his fingers,--"he's an engaged man." + +"Engaged!" cried Macfarlane excitedly. "Ma certes! He has the +deevil's own luck! He's just secured for himself the grandest woman +in the warld!" + +"Je le crois bien!" said Duprez gravely, nodding his head several +times. "Phil-eep is a wise boy! He is the fortunate one! I am not +for marriage at all--no! not for myself,--it is to tie one's hands, +to become a prisoner,--and that would not suit me; but if I were +inclined to captivity, I should like Mademoiselle Guldmar for my +beautiful gaoler. And beautiful she is, mon Dieu! . . . beyond all +comparison!" + +Lorimer was silent, so was Macfarlane. After a pause Duprez spoke +again. + +"And do you know, cher Lorimer, when our Phil-eep will marry?" + +"I haven't the slightest idea," returned Lorimer. "I know he's +engaged, that's all." + +Suddenly Macfarlane broke into a chuckling laugh. + +"I say, Lorimer," he said, with his deep-set, small grey eyes +sparkling with mischief. "'Twould be grand fun to see auld +Dyceworthy's face when he hears o't. By the Lord! He'll fall to +cursin' an' swearin' like ma pious aunt in Glasgie, or that auld +witch that cursed Miss Thelma yestreen!" + +"An eminently unpleasant old woman SHE was!" said Lorimer musingly. +"I wonder what she meant by it!" + +"She meant, mon cher," said Duprdz airily, "that she knew herself to +be ugly and venerable, while Mademoiselle was youthful and +ravishing,--it is a sufficient reason to excite profanity in the +mind of a lady!" + +"Here comes Errington!" said Macfarlane, pointing to the approaching +boat that was coming swiftly back from the Guldmars' pier. "Lorimer, +are we to congratulate him?" + +"If you like!" returned Lorimer. "I dare say he won't object." + +So that as soon as Sir Philip set foot on the yacht, his hands were +cordially grasped, and his friends out-vied each other in good +wishes for his happiness. He thanked them simply and with a manly +straightforwardness, entirely free from the usual affected +embarrassment that some modern young men think it seemly to adopt +under similar circumstances. + +"The fact is," he said frankly, "I congratulate myself,--I'm more +lucky than I deserve, I know!" + +"What a sensation she will make in London, Phil!" said Lorimer +suddenly. "I've just thought of it! Good Heavens! Lady Winsleigh +will cry for sheer spite and vexation!" + +Philip laughed. "I hope not," he said. "I should think it would need +immense force to draw a tear from her ladyship's cold bright eyes." + +"She used to like you awfully, Phil!" said Lorimer. "You were a +great favorite of hers." + +"All men are her favorites with the exception of one--her husband!" +observed Errington gaily. "Come along, let's have some champagne to +celebrate the day! We'll propose toasts and drink healths--we've got +a fair excuse for jollity this evening." + +They all descended into the saloon, and had a merry time of it, +singing songs and telling good stories, Lorimer being the gayest of +the party, and it was long past midnight when they retired to their +cabins, without even looking at the wonders of, perhaps, the most +gorgeous sky that had yet shone on their travels--a sky of complete +rose-color, varying from the deepest shade up to the palest, in +which the sun glowed with a subdued radiance like an enormous +burning ruby. + +Thelma saw it, standing under her house-porch, where her father had +joined her,--Sigurd saw it,--he had come out from some thicket where +he had been hiding, and he now sat, in a humble, crouching posture +at Thelma's feet. All three were silent, reverently watching the +spreading splendor of the heavens. Once Guldmar addressed his +daughter in a soft tone. + +"Thou are happy, my bird?" + +She smiled--the expression of her face was almost divine in its +rapture. + +"Perfectly happy, my father!" + +At the sound of her dulcet voice, Sigurd looked up. His large blue +eyes were full of tears, he took her hand and held it in his meagre +and wasted one. + +"Mistress!" he said suddenly, "do you think I shall soon die?" + +She turned her pitying eyes down upon him, startled by the vibrating +melancholy of his tone. + +"Thou wilt die, Sigurd," answered Guldmar gently, "when the gods +please,--not one second sooner or later. Art thou eager to see +Valhalla?" + +Sigurd nodded dreamily. "They will understand me there!" he +murmured. "And I shall grow straight and strong and brave! Mistress, +if you meet me in Valhalla, you will love me!" + +She stroked his wild fair locks. "I love you now, Sigurd," she said +tenderly. "But perhaps we shall all love each other better in +heaven." + +"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Sigurd, patting her hand caressingly. "When we +are all dead, dead! When our bodies crumble away and turn to flowers +and birds and butterflies,--and our souls come out like white and +red flames,--yes! . . . then we shall love each other and talk of +such strange, strange things!" He paused and laughed wildly. Then +his voice sank again into melancholy monotony--and he added: +"Mistress, you are killing poor Sigurd!" + +Thelma's face grow very earnest and anxious. "Are you vexed with me, +dear?" she asked soothingly. "Tell me what it is that troubles you?" + +Sigurd met her eyes with a look of speechless despair and shook his +head. + +"I cannot tell you!" he muttered. "All my thoughts have gone to +drown themselves one by one in the cold sea! My heart was buried +yesterday, and I saw it sealed down into its coffin. There is +something of me left,--something that dances before me like a +flame,--but it will not rest, it does not obey me. I call it, but it +will not come! And I am getting tired, mistress--very, very tired!" +His voice broke, and a low sob escaped him,--he hid his face in the +folds of her dress. Guldmar looked at the poor fellow +compassionately. + +"The wits wander further and further away!" he said to his daughter +in a low tone. "'Tis a mind like a broken rainbow, split through by +storm--'twill soon vanish. Be patient with him, child,--it cannot be +for long!" + +"No, not for long!" cried Sigurd, raising his head brightly. "That +is true--not for long! Mistress, will you come to-morrow with me and +gather flowers? You used to love to wander with your poor boy in the +fields,--but you have forgotten,--and I cannot find any blossoms +without you! They will not show themselves unless you come! Will +you? dear, beautiful mistress! will you come?" + +She smiled, pleased to see him a little more cheerful. "Yes, +Sigurd," she said; "I will come. We will go together early to-morrow +morning and gather all the flowers we can find. Will that make you +happy?" + + "Yes!" he said, softly kissing the hem of her dress. "It will make +me happy--for the last time." + +Then he rose in an attitude of attention, as though he had been +called by some one at a distance,--and with a grave, preoccupied air +he moved away, walking on tip-toe as though he feared to interrupt +the sound of some soft invisible music. Guldmar sighed as he watched +him disappear. + +"May the gods make us thankful for a clear brain when we have it!" +he said devoutly; and then turning to his daughter, he bade her good +night, and laid his hands on her golden head in silent but fervent +blessing. "Child," he said tremulously, "in the new joys that await +thee, never forget how thy old father loves thee!" + +Then, not trusting himself to say more, he strode into the house and +betook himself to slumber. Thelma followed his example, and the old +farmhouse was soon wrapped in the peace and stillness of the strange +night--a night of glittering sunshine. Sigurd alone was wakeful,--he +lay at the foot of one of the tallest pine-trees, and stared +persistently at the radiant sky through the network of dark +branches. Now and then he smiled as though he saw some beatific +vision--sometimes he plucked fitfully at the soft long moss on which +he had made his couch, and sometimes he broke into a low, crooning +song. God alone knew the broken ideas, the dim fancies, the half +born desires, that glimmered like pale ghosts in the desert of his +brain,--God alone, in the great Hereafter, could solve the problem +of his sorrows and throw light on his soul's darkness. + +It was past six in the morning when he arose, and smoothing back his +tangled locks, went to Thelma's window and sat down beneath it, in +mute expectancy. He had not long to wait,--at the expiration of ten +or fifteen minutes, the little lattice was thrown wide open, and the +girl's face, fresh as a rose, framed in a shower of amber locks, +smiled down upon him. + +"I am coming, Sigurd!" she cried softly and joyously. "How lovely +the morning is! Stay for me there! I shall not be long." + +And she disappeared, leaving her window open. Sigurd heard her +singing little scraps of song to herself, as she moved about in the +interior of her room. He listened, as though his soul were drawn out +of him by her voice,--but presently the rich notes ceased, and there +was a sudden silence. Sigurd knew or guessed the reason of that +hush,--Thelma was at her prayers. Instinctively the poor forlorn lad +folded his wasted hands--most piteously and most imploringly he +raised his bewildered eyes to the blue and golden glory of the sky. +His conception of God was indefinable; his dreams of heaven, chaotic +minglings of fairy-land with Valhalla,--but he somehow felt that +wherever Thelma's holy aspirations turned, there the angels must be +listening. + +Presently she came out of the house, looking radiant as the morning +itself,--her luxuriant hair was thrown back over her shoulders, and +fell loosely about her in thick curls, simply confined by a knot of +blue ribbon. She carried a large osier basket, capacious, and +gracefully shaped. + +"Now, Sigurd," she called sweetly, "I am ready! Where shall we go?" + +Sigurd hastened to her side, happy and smiling. + +"Across there," he said, pointing toward the direction of Bosekop. +"There is a stream under the trees that laughs to itself all day-- +you know it, mistress? And the poppies are in the field as you go-- +and by the banks there are the heart's-ease flowers--we cannot have +too many of THEM! Shall we go?" + +"Wherever you like, dear," answered Thelma tenderly, looking down +from her stately height on the poor stunted creature at her side, +who held her dress as though he were a child clinging to her as his +sole means of guidance. "All the land is pleasant to-day." + +They left the farm and its boundaries. A few men were at work on one +of Guldmar's fields, and these looked up,--half in awe, half in +fear,--as Thelma and her fantastic servitor passed along. + +"'Tis a fine wench!" said one man, resting on his spade, and +following with his eyes the erect, graceful figure of his employer's +daughter. + +"Maybe, maybe!" said another gruffly; "but a fine wench is a snare +of the devil! Do ye mind what Lovisa Elsland told us?" + +"Ay, ay," answered the first speaker, "Lovisa knows,--Lovisa is the +wisest woman we have in these parts--that's true! The girl's a +witch, for sure!" + +And they resumed their work in gloomy silence. Not one of them would +have willingly labored on Olaf Guldmar's land, had not the wages he +offered been above the usual rate of hire,--and times were bad in +Norway. But otherwise, the superstitious fear of him was so great +that his fields might have gone untilled and his crops ungathered,-- +however, as matters stood, none of them could deny that he was a +good paymaster, and just in his dealings with those whom he +employed. + +Thelma and Sigurd took their way in silence across a perfumed +stretch of meadow-land,--the one naturally fertile spot in that +somewhat barren district. Plenty of flowers blossomed at their feet, +but they did not pause to gather these, for Sigurd was anxious to +get to the stream where the purple pansies grew. They soon reached +it--it was a silvery clear ribbon of water that unrolled itself in +bright folds, through green, transparent tunnels of fern and waving +grass--leaping now and then with a swift dash over a smooth block of +stone or jagged rock--but for the most part gliding softly, with a +happy, self-satisfied murmur, as though it were some drowsy spirit +dreaming joyous dreams. Here nodded the grave, purple-leaved +pansies,--legendary consolers of the heart,--their little, quaint, +expressive physiognomies turned in every direction; up to the sky, +as though absorbing the sunlight,--down to the ground, with an +almost severe air of meditation, or curled sideways on their stems +in a sort of sly reflectiveness. + +Sigurd was among them at once--they were his friends,--his +playmates, his favorites,--and he gathered them quickly, yet +tenderly, murmuring as he did so, "Yes, you must all die; but death +does not hurt; no! life hurts, but not death! See! as I pluck you, +you all grow wings and fly away--away to other meadows, and bloom +again." He paused, and a puzzled look came into his eyes. He turned +toward Thelma, who had seated herself on a little knoll just above +the stream, "Tell me, mistress," he said, "do the flowers go to +heaven?" + +She smiled. "I think so, dear Sigurd," she said; "I hope so! I am +almost sure they do." + +Sigurd nodded with an air of satisfaction. + +"That is right," he observed. "It would never do to leave them +behind, you know! They would be missed, and we should have to come +down again and fetch them--" A crackling among the branches of some +trees startled him,--he looked round, and uttered a peculiar cry +like the cry of a wild animal, and exclaimed, "Spies, spies! ha! ha! +secret, wicked faces that are afraid to show themselves! Come out! +Mistress, mistress! make them come out!" + +Thelma rose, surprised as his gesticulations, and came towards him; +to her utter astonishment she found herself confronted by old Lovisa +Elsland, and the Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy's servant, Ulrika. On both +women's faces there was a curious expression of mingled fear, +triumph, and malevolence. Lovisa was the first to break silence. + +"At last!" she croaked, in a sort of slow, monotonous tone "At last, +Thelma Guldmar, the Lord has delivered you into my hands!" + +Thelma drew Sigurd close to her, and slipped one arm around him. + +"Poor soul!" she said softly, with sweet pitying eyes fixed +fearlessly on the old hag's withered, evil visage. "You must be +tired, wandering about on the hills as you do! If you are her +friend," she added, addressing Ulrika, "why do you not make her rest +at home and keep warm? She is so old and feeble!" + +"Feeble!" shrieked Lovisa; "feeble!" And she seemed choking with +passion. "If I had my fingers at your throat, you should then see if +I am feeble! I--" Ulrika pulled her by the arm, and whispered +something which had the effect of calming her a little. "Well," she +said, "you speak then! I can wait!" + +Ulrika cleared her husky voice, and fixed her dull eyes on the +girl's radiant countenance. + +"You must go away," she said coldly and briefly; "You and your +father, and this creature," and she pointed contemptuously to the +staring Sigurd. "Do you understand? You must leave the Alten Fjord. +The people are tired of you--tired of bad harvests, ill-luck, +sickness, and continued poverty. You are the cause of all our +miseries,--and we have resolved you shall not stay among us. Go +quickly,--take the blight and pestilence of your presence elsewhere! +Go! or if you will not--" + +"We shall burn, burn, burn, and utterly destroy!" interrupted +Lovisa, with a sort of eldritch shriek. "The strong pine rafters of +Olaf Guldmar's dwelling shall be kindled into flame to light the +hills with crimson, far and near! Not a plank shall be spared!--not +a vestige of his pride be left--" + +"Stop!" said Thelma quietly. "What do you mean? You must both be +very mad or very wicked! You want us to go away--you threaten to set +fire to our home--why? We have done you no harm. Tell me, poor +soul!" and she turned with queenly forbearance to Lovisa, "is it for +Britta's sake that you would burn the house she lives in? That is +not wise! You cursed me the other day,--and why? What have I done +that you should hate me?" + +The old woman regarded her with steadfast, cruel eyes. + +"You are your mother's child!" she said. "I hated her--I hate you! +You are a witch!--the village knows it--Mr. Dyceworthy knows it! Mr. +Dyceworthy says we shall be justified in the Lord's sight for +wreaking evil upon you! Evil, evil be on those of evil deeds! " + +"Then shall the evil fall on Mr. Dyceworthy," said the girl calmly. +"He is wicked in himself,--and doubly wicked to encourage YOU in +wickedness. He is ignorant and false--why do you believe in such a +man? " + +"He is a saint--a saint!" cried Lovisa wildly. "And shall the +daughter of Satan withstand his power?" And she clapped her hands in +a sort of fierce ecstasy. + +Thelma glanced at her pityingly and smiled. "A saint! Poor thing, +how little you know him!" she said. "And it is a pity you should +hate me, for I have done you no wrong. I would do good to all if I +knew how,--tell me can I comfort you, or make your life more +cheerful? It must be hard to be so old and all alone!" + +"Your death would comfort me!" returned Lovisa grimly. "Why do you +keep Britta from me?" + +"I do not keep her," Thelma answered. "She stays with me because she +is happy. Why do you grudge her, her happiness? And as for burning +my father's house, surely you would not do so wicked and foolish a +thing!--but still, you must do as you choose, for it is not possible +that we shall leave the Altenfjord to please you." + +Here Ulrika started forward angrily. "You defy us!" she cried. "You +will not go?" And in her excitement she seized Thelma's arm roughly. + +This action was too much for Sigurd; he considered it an attack on +the person of his beloved mistress and he resented it at once in his +own fashion. Throwing himself on Ulrika with sudden ferocity, he +pushed and beat her back as though he were a wolf-hound struggling +with refractory prey; and though the ancient Lovisa rushed to the +rescue, and Thelma imploringly called upon her zealous champion to +desist,--all remonstrances were unavailing, till Sigurd had reduced +his enemy to the most abject and whimpering terror. + +"A demon--a demon!" she sobbed and moaned, as the valiant dwarf at +last released her from his clutches; and, tossing his long, fair +locks over his misshapen shoulders, laughed loudly and triumphantly +with delight at his victory. "Lovisa! Lovisa Elsland! this is your +doing; you brought this upon me! I may die how, and you will not +care! O Lord, Lord, have mercy--" + +Suddenly she stopped; her eyes dilated,--her face grew grey with the +sickening pallor of fear. Slowly she raised her hand and pointed to +Sigurd--his fantastic dress had become disordered in the affray, and +his jacket was torn open,--and on his bare chest a long red scar in +the shape of a cross was distinctly visible. "That scar!" she +muttered. "How did he get that scar?" + +Lovisa stared at her in impatient derision. Thelma was too surprised +to answer immediately, and Sigurd took it upon himself to furnish +what he considered a crushing reply. + +"Odin's mark!" he said, patting the scar with much elation. "No +wonder you are afraid of it! Everybody knows it--birds, flowers, +trees, and stars! Even you--you are afraid!" + +And he laughed again, and snapped his fingers in her face. The woman +shuddered violently. Step by step she drew near to the wondering +Thelma, and spoke in low and trembling accents, without a trace of +her former anger. + +"They say you are wicked," she said slowly, "and that the devil has +your soul ready, before you are dead! But I am not afraid of you. +No; I will forgive you, and pray for you, if you will tell me, +. . ." She paused, and then continued, as with a strong effort. +"Yes--tell me WHO is this Sigurd?" + +"Sigurd is a foundling," answered Thelma simply. "He was floating +about in the Fjord in a basket, and my father saved him. He was +quite a baby. He had this scar on his chest then. He has lived with +us ever since." + +Ulrika looked at her searchingly,--then bent her head,--whether in +gratitude or despair it was difficult to say. + +"Lovisa Elsland," she said monotonously, "I am going home. I cannot +help you any longer! I am tired--ill." Here she suddenly broke down, +and, throwing up her arms with a wild gesture, she cried, "O God, +God! O God!" and burst into a stormy passion of sobs and tears. + +Thelma, touched by her utter misery, would have offered consolation, +but Lovisa repelled her with a fierce gesture. + +"Go!" said the old woman harshly. "You have cast your spells upon +her--I am witness of your work! And shall you escape just +punishment? No; not while there is a God in heaven, and I, Lovisa +Elsland, live to perform His bidding! Go,--white devil that you +are!--go and carry misfortune upon misfortune to your fine +gentleman-lover! Ah!" and she chuckled maliciously as the girl +recoiled from her, her proud face growing suddenly paler, "have I +touched you there? Lie in his breast, and it shall be as though a +serpent stung him,--kiss his lips, and your touch shall be poison,-- +live in doubt, and die in misery! Go! and may all evil follow you!" + +She raised her staff and waved it majestically, as though she drew a +circle in the air,--Thelma smiled pityingly, but deigned no answer +to her wild ravings. + +"Come, Sigurd!" she said simply, "let us return home. It is growing +late--father will wonder where we are." + +"Yes, yes," agreed Sigurd, seizing the basket full of the pansies he +had plucked. "The sunshine is slipping away, and we cannot live with +shadows! These are not real women, mistress; they are dreams--black +dreams,--I have often fought with dreams, and I know how to make +them afraid! See how the one weeps because she knows me,--and the +other is just going to fall into a grave. I can hear the clods +thrown on her head--thump--thump! It does not take long to bury a +dream! Come, mistress, let us follow the sunshine!" + +And, taking the hand she extended towards him, he turned away, +looking back once, however, to call out loudly-- + +"Good-bye, bad dreams!" + +As they disappeared behind the trees, Lovisa turned angrily to the +still-sobbing Ulrika. + +"What is this folly?" she exclaimed, striking her staff fiercely +into the ground. "Art mad or bewitched?" + +Ulrika looked up,--her plain face swollen and stained with weeping. + +"O Lord, have mercy upon me! O Lord, forgive me!" she moaned. "I did +not know it--how COULD I know?" + +Lovisa grew so impatient that she seized her by the shoulder and +shook her violently. + +"Know what?" she cried; "know what?" + +"Sigurd is my son!" said Ulrika, with a sort of solemn resignation,- +-then, with a sudden gesture, she threw her hands above her head, +crying, "My son, my son! The child I thought I had killed! The Lord +be praised I did not murder him!" + +Lovisa Elsland seemed stupefied with surprise. "Is this the truth?" +she asked at last, slowly and incredulously. + +"The truth, the truth!" cried Ulrika passionately. "It is always the +truth that comes to light! He is my child, I tell you!. . . I gave +him that scar!" She paused, shuddering, and continued in a lower +tone, "I tried to kill him with a knife, but when the blood flowed, +it sickened me, and I could not! He was an infant abortion--the evil +fruit of an evil deed--and I threw him out to the waves,--as I told +you, long ago. You have had good use of my confession, Lovisa +Elsland; you have held me in your power by means of my secret, but +now--" + +The old woman interrupted her with a low laugh of contempt and +malice. + +"As the parents are, so are the children!" she said scornfully. +"Your lover must have been a fine man, Ulrika, if the son is like +his father!" + +Ulrika glared at her vengefully, then drew herself up with an air of +defiance. + +"I care nothing for your taunts, Lovisa Elsland!" she said. "You can +do me no harm! All is over between us! I will help in no mischief +against the Guldmars. Whatever their faults, they saved--my child!" + +"Is that so great a blessing?" asked Lovisa ironically. + +"It makes your threats useless," answered Ulrika. "You cannot call +me MURDERESS again!" + +"Coward and fool!" shrieked Lovisa. "Was it YOUR intent that the +child should live? Were you not glad to think it dead? And cannot I +spread the story of your infamy through all the villages where you +are known? Is not the wretched boy himself a living witness of the +attempt you made to kill him? Does not that scar speak against you? +Would not Olaf Guldmar relate the story of the child's rescue to any +one that asked him? Would you like all Bosekop to know of your +intrigue with an escaped criminal, who was afterwards caught and +hung! The virtuous Ulrika--the zealous servant of the Gospel--the +pious, praying Ulrika!" and the old woman trembled with rage and +excitement. "Out of my power? Never, never! As long as there is +breath in my body I will hold you down! NOT a murderess, you say--?" + +"No," said Ulrika very calmly, with a keen look, "I am NOT--but you +ARE!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +"Il n'y a personne qui ait eu autant a souffrir a votre sujet que +moi depuis ma naissance! aussi je vous supplie a deux genoux et an +nom de Dien, d'avoir pitie de moi!"--Old Breton Ballad. + + +In a few more days Thelma's engagement to Sir Philip Bruce-Errington +was the talk of the neighborhood. The news spread gradually, having +been, in the first place, started by Britta, whose triumph in her +mistress's happiness was charming to witness. It reached the +astonished and reluctant ears of the Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy, whose +rage was so great that it destroyed his appetite for twenty-four +hours. But the general impression in the neighborhood, where +superstition maintained so strong a hold on the primitive and +prejudiced minds of the people, was that the reckless young +Englishman would rue the day on which he wedded "the white witch of +the Altenfjord." + +Guldmar was regarded with more suspicion than ever, as having used +some secret and diabolical influence to promote the match; and the +whole party were, as it seemed, tabooed, and looked upon as given up +to the most unholy practices. + +Needless to say, the opinions of the villagers had no effect +whatever on the good spirits of those who were thus unfavorably +criticised, and it would have been difficult to find a merrier group +than that assembled one fine morning in front of Guldmar's house, +all equipped from top to toe for some evidently unusually lengthy +and arduous mountain excursion. Each man carried a long, stout +stick, portable flask, knapsack, and rug--the latter two articles +strapped together and slung across the shoulder--and they all +presented an eminently picturesque appearance, particularly Sigurd, +who stood at a little distance from the others, leaning on his tall +staff and gazing at Thelma with an air of peculiar pensiveness and +abstraction. + +She was at that moment busied in adjusting Errington's knapsack more +comfortably, her fair, laughing face turned up to his, and her +bright eyes alight with love and tender solicitude. + +"I've a good mind not to go at all," he whispered in her ear. "I'll +come back and stay with you all day." + +"You foolish boy!" she answered merrily. "You would miss seeing the +grand fall--all for what? To sit with me and watch me spinning, and +you would grow so very sleepy! Now, if I were a man, I would go with +you." + +"I'm very glad you're not a man!" said Errington, pressing the +little hand that had just buckled his shoulderstrap. "Though I wish +you WERE going with us. But I say, Thelma, darling, won't you be +lonely?" + +She laughed gaily. "Lonely? I? Why, Britta is with me--besides, I am +never lonely NOW." She uttered the last word softly, with a shy, +upward glance. "I have so much to think about--" She paused and drew +her hand away from her lover's close clasp. "Ah," she resumed, with +a mischievous smile, "you are a conceited boy! You want to be +missed! You wish me to say that I shall feel most miserable all the +time you are away! If I do, I shall not tell you!" + +"Thelma, child?" called Olaf Guldmar, at this juncture "keep the +gates bolted and doors barred while we are absent. Remember, thou +and Britta must pass the night alone here,--we cannot be at home +till late in the evening of to-morrow. Let no one inside the garden, +and deny thyself to all comers. Dost thou hear" + +"Yes, father," she responded meekly. + +"And let Britta keep good guard that her crazy hag of a grandam come +not hither to disturb or fright thee with her croaking,--for thou +hast not even Sigurd to protect thee." + +"Not even Sigurd!" said that personage, with a meditative smile. +"No, mistress; not even poor Sigurd!" + +"One of us might remain behind," suggested Lorimer, with a side-look +at his friend. + +"Oh no, no!" exclaimed Thelma anxiously. "It would vex me so much! +Britta and I have often been alone before. We are quite safe, are we +not, father?" + +"Safe enough!" said the old man, with a laugh. "I know of no one +save Lovisa Elsland who has the courage to face thee, child! Still, +pretty witch as thou art, 'twill not harm thee to put the iron bar +across the house door, and to lock fast the outer gate when we have +gone. This done, I have no fear of thy safety. Now," and he kissed +his daughter heartily, "now lads, 'tis time we were on the march! +Sigurd, my boy, lead on!" + +"Wait!" cried Sigurd, springing to Thelma's side. "I must say good- +bye!" And he caught the girl's hand and kissed it,--then plucking a +rose, he left it between her fingers. "That will remind you of +Sigurd, mistress! Think of him once to-day!--once again when the +midnight glory shines. Good-bye, mistress! that is what the dead +say,. . . Good-bye!" + +And with a passionate gesture of farewell, he ran and placed himself +at the head of the little group that waited for him, saying +exultingly-- + +"Now follow me! Sigurd knows the way! Sigurd is the friend of all +the wild waterfall! Up the hills,--across the leaping stream,-- +through the sparkling foam!" And he began chanting to himself a sort +of wild mountain song. + +Macfarlane looked at him dubiously. "Are ye sure?" he said to +Guldmar. "Are ye sure that wee chap kens whaur he's gaun? He'll no +lead us into a ditch an' leave us there, mistakin' it for the Fall?" + +Guldmar laughed heartily. "Never fear! Sigurd's the best guide you +can have, in spite of his fancies. He knows all the safest and +surest paths; and Njedegorze is no easy place to reach, I can tell +you!" + +"Pardon! How is it called?" asked Duprez eagerly. + +"Njedegorze." + +The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. "I give it up!" he said +smilingly. "Mademoiselle Guldmar, if anything happens to me at this +cascade with the name unpronounceable, you will again be my doctor, +will you not?" + +Thelma laughed as she shook hands with him. "Nothing will happen," +she rejoined; "unless, indeed, you catch cold by sleeping in a hut +all night. Father, you must see that they do not catch cold!" + +The bonde nodded, and motioned the party forward, Sigurd leading the +way,--Errington, however, lingered behind on pretense of having +forgotten something, and, drawing his betrothed in his arms, kissed +her fondly. + +"Take care of yourself, darling!" he murmured,--and then hurrying +away he rejoined his friends, who had discreetly refrained from +looking back, and therefore had not seen the lovers embrace. + +Sigurd, however, had seen it, and the sight apparently gave fresh +impetus to his movements, for he sprang up the adjacent hill with so +much velocity that those who followed had some difficulty to keep up +with him,--and it was not till they were out of sight of the +farmhouse that he resumed anything like a reasonable pace. + +As soon as they had disappeared, Thelma turned into the house and +seated herself at her spinning-wheel. Britta soon entered the room, +carrying the same graceful implement of industry, and the two +maidens sat together for some time in a silence unbroken, save by +the low melodious whirring of the two wheels, and the mellow +complaints of the strutting doves on the window-sill. + +"Froken Thelma!" said Britta at last, timidly. + +"Yes, Britta?" And her mistress looked up inquiringly. + +"Of what use is it for you to spin now?" queried the little +handmaid. "You will be a great lady, and great ladies do not work at +all!" + +Thelma's wheel revolved more and more slowly, till at last it +stopped altogether. + +"Do they not?" she said half inquiringly and musingly. "I think you +must be wrong, Britta. It is impossible that there should be people +who are always idle. I do not know what great ladies are like." + +"I do!" And Britta nodded her curly head sagaciously. "There was a +girl from Hammerfest who went to Christiania to seek service--she +was handy at her needle, and a fine spinner, and a great lady took +her right away from Norway to London. And the lady bought her +spinning-wheel for a curiosity she said,--and put it in the corner +of a large parlor, and used to show it to her friends, and they +would all laugh and say, 'How pretty!' And Jansena,--that was the +girl--never span again--she wore linen that she got from the shops,- +-and it was always falling into holes, and Jansena was always +mending, mending, and it was no good!" + +Thelma laughed. "Then it is better to spin, after all, Britta--is it +not?" + +Britta looked dubious. "I do not know," she answered; "but I am sure +great ladies do not spin. Because, as I said to you, Froken, this +Jansena's mistress was a great lady, and she never did anything,-- +no! nothing at all,--but she put on wonderful dresses, and sat in +her room, or was driven about in a carriage. And that is what you +will do also, Froken!" + +"Oh no, Britta," said Thelma decisively. "I could not be so idle. Is +it not fortunate I have so much linen ready? I have quite enough for +marriage." + +The little maid looked wistful. "Yes, dear Froken," she murmured +hesitatingly; "but I was thinking if it is right for you to wear +what you have spun. Because, you see, Jansena's mistress had +wonderful things all trimmed with lace,--and they would all come +back from the washing torn and hanging in threads, and Jansena had +to mend those as well as her own clothes. You see, they do not last +at all--and they cost a large sum of money; but it is proper for +great ladies to wear them." + +"I am not sure of that, Britta," said Thelma, still musingly. "But +still, it may be--my bridal things may not please Philip. If you +know anything about it, you must tell me what is right." + +Britta was in a little perplexity. She had gathered some idea from +her friend Jansena concerning life in London,--she had even a misty +notion of what was meant by a "trousseau" with all its dainty, +expensive, and often useless fripperies; but she did not know how to +explain her-self to her young mistress, whose simple, almost severe +tastes would, she instinctively felt, recoil from anything like +ostentation in dress, so she was discreetly silent. + +"You know, Britta," continued Thelma gently, "I shall be Philip's +wife, and I must not vex him in any little thing. But I do not quite +understand. I have always dressed in the same way,--and he has never +said that he thought me wrongly clothed." + +And she looked down with quite a touching pathos at her straight, +white woolen gown, and smoothed its folds doubtfully. The impulsive +Britta sprang to her side and kissed her with girlish and unaffected +enthusiasm. + +"My dear, my dear! You are more lovely and sweet than anybody in the +world!" she cried. "And I am sure Sir Philip thinks so too!" + +A beautiful roseate flush suffused Thelma's cheeks, and she smiled. + +"Yes, I know he does!" she replied softly. "And, after all, it does +not matter what one wears." + +Britta was meditating,--she looked lovingly at her mistress's +rippling wealth of hair. + +"Diamonds!" she murmured to herself in a sort of satisfied +soliloquy. "Diamonds, like those you have on your finger, Froken,-- +diamonds all scattered among your curls like dew-drops! And white +satin, all shining, shining!--people would take you for an angel!" + +Thelma laughed merrily. "Britta, Britta! You are talking such +nonsense! Nobody dresses so grandly except queens in fairy-tales." + +"Do they not?" and the wise Britta looked more profound than ever. +"Well, we shall see, dear Froken--we shall see!" + +"WE?" queried Thelma with surprised emphasis. + +Her little maid blushed vividly, and looked down demurely, twisting +and untwisting the string of her apron. + +"Yes, Froken," she said in a low tone. "I have asked Sir Philip to +let me go with you when you leave Norway." + +"Britta!" Thelma's astonishment was too great for more than this +exclamation. + +"Oh, my dear! don't be angry with me!" implored Britta, with +sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, and excited tongue all pleading +eloquently together, "I should die here without you! I told the +bonde so; I did, indeed I And then I went to Sir Philip--he is such +a grand gentleman,--so proud and yet so kind,--and I asked him to +let me still be your servant. I said I knew all great ladies had a +maid, and if I was not clever enough I could learn, and--and--" here +Britta began to sob, "I said I did not want any wages--only to live +in a little corner of the same house where you were,--to sew for +you, and see you, and hear your voice sometimes--" Here the poor +little maiden broke down altogether and hid her face in her apron +crying bitterly. + +The tears were in Thelma's eyes too, and she hastened to put her arm +round Britta's waist, and tried to soothe her by every loving word +she could think of. + +"Hush, Britta dear! you must not cry," she said tenderly. "What did +Philip say?" + +"He said," jerked out Britta convulsively, "that I was a g-good +little g-girl, and that he was g-glad I wanted to g-go!" Here her +two sparkling wet eyes peeped out of the apron inquiringly, and +seeing nothing but the sweetest affection on Thelma's attentive +face, she went on more steadily. "He p-pinched my cheek, and he +laughed--and he said he would rather have me for your maid than +anybody--there!" + +And this last exclamation was uttered with so much defiance that she +dashed away the apron altogether, and stood erect in self- +congratulatory glory, with a particularly red little nose and very +trembling lips. Thelma smiled, and caressed the tumbled brown curls. + +"I am very glad, Britta!" she said earnestly. "Nothing could have +pleased me more! I must thank Philip. But it is of father I am +thinking--what will father and Sigurd do?" + +"Oh, that is all settled, Froken," said Britta, recovering herself +rapidly from her outburst. "The bonde means to go for one of his +long voyages in the Valkyrie--it is time she was used again, I'm +sure,--and Sigurd will go with him. It will do them both good--and +the tongues of Bosekop can waggle as much as they please, none of us +will be here to mind them!" + +"And you will escape your grandmother!" said Thelma amusedly, as she +once more set her spinning-wheel in motion. + +Britta laughed delightedly. "Yes! she will not find her way to +England without some trouble!" she exclaimed. "Oh, how happy I shall +be! And you"--she looked pleadingly at her mistress--"you do not +dislike me for your servant?" + +"Dislike!" and Thelma gave her a glance of mingled reproach and +tenderness. "You know how fond I am of you, Britta! It will be like +having a little bit of my old home always with me." + +Silently Britta kissed her hand, and then resumed her work. The +monotonous murmur of the two wheels recommenced,--this time +pleasantly accompanied by the rippling chatter of the two girls, +who, after the fashion of girls all the world over, indulged in many +speculations as to the new and strange life that lay before them. + +Their ideas were of the most primitive character,--Britta had never +been out of Norway, and Thelma's experiences, apart from her home +life, extended merely to the narrow and restricted bounds of simple +and severe convent discipline, where she had been taught that the +pomps and vanities of the world were foolish and transient shows, +and that nothing could please God more than purity and rectitude of +soul. Her character was formed, and set upon a firm basis--firmer +than she herself was conscious of. The nuns who had been entrusted +with her education had fulfilled their task with more than their +customary zeal--they were interested in the beautiful Norwegian +child for the sake of her mother, who had also been their charge. +One venerable nun in particular had bestowed a deep and lasting +benefit on her, for, seeing her extraordinary beauty, and +forestalling the dangers and temptations into which the possession +of such exceptional charms might lead her, she adopted a wise +preventive course, that cased her as it were in armor, proof against +all the assailments of flattery. She told the girl quite plainly +that she was beautiful,--but at the same time made her aware that +beauty was common,--that she shared it alike with birds, flowers, +trees, and all the wonderful objects of nature--moreover, that it +was nothing to boast of, being so perishable. + +"Suppose a rose foolish enough to boast of its pretty leaves," said +the gentle religieuse on one occasion. "They all fall to the ground +in a short time, and become decayed and yellow--it is only the +fragrance, or the SOUL of the rose that lasts." Such precepts, that +might have been wasted on a less sensitive and thoughtful nature, +sank deeply into Thelma's mind--she accepted them not only in theory +but in practice, and the result was that she accepted her beauty as +she accepted her health,--as a mere natural occurrence--no more. She +was taught that the three principal virtues of a woman were +chastity, humility, and obedience,--these were the laws of God, +fixed and immutable, which no one dared break without committing +grievous and unpardonable sin. So she thought, and according to her +thoughts she lived. What a strange world, then, lay before her in +the contemplated change that was about to take place in the even +tenor of her existence! A world of intrigue and folly--a world of +infidelity and falsehood!--how would she meet it? It was a question +she never asked herself--she thought London a sort of magnified +Christiania, or at best, the Provencal town of Arles on a larger +scale. She had heard her father speak of it, but only in a vague +way, and she had been able to form no just idea even to herself of +the enormous metropolis crowded to excess with its glad and +sorrowful, busy and idle, rich and poor millions. England itself +floated before her fancy as a green, fertile, embowered island where +Shakespeare had lived--and it delighted her to know that her future +home, Errington Manor, was situated in Warwickshire, Shakespeare's +county. Of the society that awaited her she had no notion,--she was +prepared to "keep house" for her husband in a very simple way--to +spin his household linen, to spare him all trouble and expense, and +to devote herself body and soul to his service. As may be well +imagined, the pictures she drew of her future married life, as she +sat and span with Britta on that peaceful afternoon, were widely +different to the destined reality that every day approached her more +nearly. + +Meantime, while the two girls were at home and undisturbed in the +quiet farm house, the mountaineering party, headed by Sigurd, were +well on their way towards the great Fall of Njedegorze. They had +made a toilsome ascent of the hills by the side of the Alten river-- +they had climbed over craggy boulders and slippery rocks, sometimes +wading knee-deep in the stream, or pausing to rest and watch the +salmon leap and turn glittering somersaults in the air close above +the diamond-clear water,--and they had beguiled their fatigue with +songs and laughter, and the telling of fantastic legends and stories +in which Sigurd had shone at his best--indeed, this unhappy being +was in a singularly clear and rational frame of mind, disposed, too, +to be agreeable even towards Errington. Lorimer, who for reasons of +his own, had kept a close watch on Sigurd ever since his friend's +engagement to Thelma, was surprised and gratified at this change in +his former behavior, and encouraged him in it, while Errington +himself responded to the dwarf's proffered friendship, and walked +beside him, chatting cheerfully, during the most part of the +excursion to the Fall. It was a long and exceedingly difficult +journey--and in some parts dangerous--but Sigurd proved himself +worthy of the commendations bestowed on him by the bonde, and guided +them by the easiest and most secure paths, till at last, about seven +o'clock in the evening, they heard the rush and roar of the rapids +below the Fall, and with half an hour's more exertion, came in sight +of them, though not as yet of the Fall itself. Yet the rapids were +grand enough to merit attention--and the whole party stopped to gaze +on the whirling wonders of water that, hissing furiously, circled +round and round giddily in wheels of white foam, and then, as though +enraged, leaped high over obstructing stones and branches, and +rushed onward and downward to the smoother length of the river. + +The noise was deafening,--they could not hear each other speak +unless by shouting at the top of their voices, and even then the +sounds were rendered almost indistinct by the riotous uproar. +Sigurd, however, who knew all the ins and outs of the place, sprang +lightly on a jutting crag, and, putting both hands to his mouth, +uttered a peculiar, shrill, and far-reaching cry. Clear above the +turmoil of the restless waters, that cry was echoed back eight +distinct times from the surrounding rocks and hills. Sigurd laughed +triumphantly. + +"You see!" he exclaimed, as he resumed his leadership of the party, +"they all know me! They are obliged to answer me when I call--they +dare not disobey!" And his blue eyes flashed with that sudden wild +fire that generally foretold some access of his particular mania. + +Errington saw this and said soothingly, "Of course not, Sigurd! No +one would dream of disobeying you! See how we follow you to-day--we +all do exactly what you tell us." + +"We are sheep, Sigurd," added Lorimer lazily; "and you are the +shepherd!" + +Sigurd looked from one to the other half doubtingly, half cunningly. +He smiled. + +"Yes!" he said. "You will follow me, will you not? Up to the very +top of the Fall?" + +"By all means!" answered Sir Philip gaily. "Anywhere you choose to +go!" + + Sigurd seemed satisfied, and lapsing into the calm, composed manner +which had distinguished him all day, he led the way as before, and +they resumed their march, this time in silence, for conversation was +well-nigh impossible. The nearer they came to the yet invisible +Fall, the more thunderous grew the din--it was as though they +approached some vast battle-field, where opposing armies were in +full action, with all the tumult of cannonade and musketry. The +ascent grew steeper and more difficult--at times the high barriers +of rocks seemed almost impassable,--often they were compelled to +climb over confused heaps of huge stones, through which the eddying +water pushed its way with speed and fury,--but Sigurd's precision +was never at fault,--he leaped crag after crag swiftly and +skillfully, always lighting on a sure foothold, and guiding the +others to do the same. At last, at a sharp turn of one of these +rocky eminences, they perceived an enormous cloud of white vapor +rising up like smoke from the earth, and twisting itself as it rose, +in swaying, serpentine folds, as though some giant spirit-hand were +shaking it to and fro like a long flowing veil in the air. Sigurd +paused and pointed forward. + +"Njedegorze!" he cried. + +They all pressed on with some excitement. The ground vibrated +beneath their feet with the shock of the falling torrent, and the +clash and uproar of the disputing waters rolled in their ears like +the grand, sustained bass of some huge cathedral organ. Almost +blinded by the spray that dashed its disdainful drops in their +faces, deafened by the majestic, loud, and ceaseless eloquence that +poured its persuasive force into the splitting hearts of the rocks +around them,--breathless with climbing, and well-nigh tread out, +they struggled on, and broke into one unanimous shout of delight and +triumph when they at last reached the small hut that had been +erected for the convenience of travellers who might choose that way +to journey to the Altenfjord,--and stood face to face with the +magnificent cascade, one of the grandest in Norway. What a sublime +spectacle it was!--that tempest of water sweeping sheer down the +towering rocks in one straight, broad, unbroken sheet of foam! A +myriad rainbows flashed in the torrent and vanished, to reappear +again instantly with redoubled lustre,--while the glory of the +evening sunlight glittering on one side of the fall made it gleam +like a sparkling shower of molten gold. + +"Njedegorze!" cried Sigurd again, giving a singularly musical +pronunciation to the apparently uncouth name. "Come! still a little +further,--to the top of the Fall!" + +Olaf Guldmar, however, paid no attention to this invitation. He was +already beginning to busy himself with preparations for passing the +night comfortably in the hut before mentioned. Stout old Norseman as +he was, there were limits to his endurance, and the arduous +exertions of the long day had brought fatigue to him as well as to +the rest of the party. + +Macfarlane was particularly exhausted. His frequent pulls at the +whiskey flask had been of little or no avail as a support to his +aching limbs, and, now he bad reached his destination, he threw +himself full length on the turf in front of the hut and groaned most +dismally. + +Lorimer surveyed him amusedly, and stood beside him, the very +picture of a cool young Briton whom nothing could possibly +discompose. + +"Done up--eh, Sandy?" he inquired. + +"Done up!" growled Macfarlane. "D'ye think I'm a Norseman or a +jumping Frenchy?" This with a look of positive indignation at the +lively Duprez, who, if tired, was probably too vain to admit it, for +he was strutting about, giving vent to his genuine admiration of the +scene before him with the utmost freshness and enthusiasm. "I'm just +a plain Scotchman, an' no such a fule at climbin' either! Why, man, +I've been up Goatfell in Arran, an' Ben Lomond an' Ben Nevis-- +there's a mountain for ye, if ye like! But a brae like this, wi' a' +the stanes lyin' helter-skelter, an' crags that ye can barely hold +on to--and a mad chap guidin' ye on at the speed o' a leapin' goat-- +I tell ye, I havena been used to't." Here he drew out his flask and +took another extensive pull at it. Then he added suddenly, "Just +look at Errington! He'll be in a fair way to break his neck if he +follows yon wee crazy loon any further." + +At these words Lorimer turned sharply round, and perceived his +friend following Sigurd step by step up a narrow footing in the +steep ascent of some rough, irregular crags that ran out and formed +a narrow ledge, ending in a sharp point, jutting directly over the +full fury of the waterfall. He watched the two climbing figures for +an instant without any anxiety,--then he suddenly remembered that +Philip had promised to go with Sigurd "to the top of the Fall." +Acting on a rapid impulse which he did not stop to explain to +himself, Lorimer at once started off after them,--but the ascent was +difficult; they were some distance ahead, and though he shouted +vociferously, the roar of the cascade rendered his voice inaudible. +Gaining on them, however, by slow degrees, he was startled when all +at once they disappeared at the summit--and, breathless with his +rapid climb, he paused, bewildered. By-and-by he saw Sigurd creeping +cautiously out along the rocky shelf that overhung the tumbling +torrent--his gaze grew riveted with a sort of deadly fascination on +the spot. + +"Good God!" he muttered under his breath. "Surely Phil will not +follow him THERE!" + +He watched with strained eyes,--and a smothered cry escaped him as +Errington's tall figure, erect and bold, appeared on that narrow and +dangerous platform! He never knew how he clambered up the rest of +the slippery ascent. A double energy seemed given to his active +limbs. He never paused again for one second till he also stood on +the platform, without being heard or perceived by either Sigurd or +Philip. Their backs were turned to him, and he feared to move or +speak, lest a sudden surprised movement on their parts should have +the fatal result of precipitating one or both into the fall. He +remained, therefore, behind them, silent and motionless,--looking, +as they looked, at the terrific scene below. From that point, +Njedegorze was as a huge boiling caldron, from which arose twisted +wreaths and coiling lengths of white vapor, faintly colored with +gold and silvery blue. Dispersing in air, these mists took all +manner of fantastic forms,--ghostly arms seemed to wave and beckon, +ghostly hands to unite in prayer,--and fluttering creatures in +gossamer draperies of green and crimson, appeared to rise and float, +and retire and shrink, to nothingness again in the rainbow drift and +sweep of whirling foam. Errington gazed unconcernedly down on the +seething abyss. He pushed back his cap from his brow, and let the +fresh wind play among his dark, clustering curls. His nerves were +steady, and he surveyed the giddily twisting wheels of shining +water, without any corresponding giddiness in his own brain. He had +that sincere delight in a sublime natural spectacle, which is the +heritage of all who possess a poetic and artistic temperament; and +though he stood on a frail ledge of rock, from which one false or +unwary step might send him to certain destruction, he had not the +slightest sense of possible danger in his position. Withdrawing his +eyes from the Fall, he looked kindly down at Sigurd, who in turn was +staring up at him with a wild fixity of regard. + +"Well, old boy," he said cheerfully, "this is a fine sight! Have you +had enough of it? Shall we go back?" + +Sigurd drew imperceptibly nearer. Lorimer, from his point of vantage +behind a huge bowlder, drew nearer also. + +"Go back?" echoed Sigurd. "Why should we go back?" + +"Why, indeed!" laughed Errington, lightly balancing himself on the +trembling rocks beneath him. "Except that I should scarcely think +this is the best place on which to pass the night! Not enough room, +and too much noise! What say you?" + +"Oh, brave, brave, fool!" cried the dwarf in sudden excitement. "Are +you not AFRAID?" + +The young baronet's keen eyes glanced him over with amused wonder. + +"What of?" he demanded coolly. Still nearer came Sigurd--nearer also +came the watchful, though almost invisible Lorimer. + +"Look down there!" continued Sigurd in shrill tones, pointing to the +foaming gulf. "Look at the Elf-danz--see the beautiful spirits with +the long pale green hair and glittering wings! See how they beckon, +beckon, beckon! They want some one to join them--look how their +white arms wave,--they throw back their golden veils and smile at +us! They call to YOU--you with the strong figure and the proud eyes- +-why do you not go to them? They will kiss and caress you--they have +sweet lips and snow-white bosoms,--they will love you and take care +of you--they are as fair as Thelma!" + +"Are they? I doubt it!" and Errington smiled dreamily as he turned +his head again towards the fleecy whirl of white water, arid saw at +once with an artist's quick eye what his sick-brained companion +meant by the Elf-danz, in the fantastic twisting, gliding shapes +tossed up in the vaporous mist of the Fall. "But I'll take your +word, Sigurd, without making the elves' personal acquaintance! Come +along--this place is bad for you--we'll dance with the green-haired +nymphs another time." + +And with a light laugh he was about to turn away, when he was +surprised by a sudden, strange convulsion of Sigurd's countenance-- +his blue eyes flashed with an almost phosphorescent lustre,--his +pale skin flushed deeply red, and the veins in his forehead started +into swelled and knotted prominence. + +"Another time!" he screamed loudly; "no, no! Now--now! Die, robber +of Thelma's love! Die--die--DIE!" + +Repeating these words like quick gasps of fury, he twisted his +meager arms tightly round Errington, and thrust him fiercely with +all his might towards the edge of the Fall. For one second Philip +strove against him--the next, he closed his eyes--Thelma's face +smiled on his mind in that darkness as though in white farewell--the +surging blood roared in his ears with more thunder than the terrific +tumble of the torrent--"God!" he muttered, and THEN--then he stood +safe on the upper part of the rocky platform with Lorimer's strong +hand holding him in a vice-like grasp, and Lorimer's face, pale, but +looking cheerfully into his. For a moment he was too bewildered to +speak. His friend loosened him and laughed rather forcedly--a slight +tremble of his lips was observable under his fair moustache. + +"By Jove, Phil," he remarked in his usual nonchalant manner, "that +was rather a narrow shave! Fortunate I happened to be there!" + +Errington gazed about him confusedly. "Where's Sigurd?" he asked. + +"Gone! Ran off like a 'leapin' goat,' as Sandy elegantly describes +him. I thought at first he meant to jump over the Fall, in which +case I should have been compelled to let him have his own way, as my +hands were full. But he's taken a safe landward direction." + +"Didn't he try to push me over?" + +"Exactly! He was quite convinced that the mermaids wanted you. But I +considered that Miss Thelma's wishes had a prior claim on my +regard." + +"Look here, old man," said Errington suddenly, "don't jest about it! +You saved my life!" + +"Well!" and Lorimer laughed. "Quite by accident, I assure you." + +"NOT by accident!" and Philip flushed up, looking very handsome and +earnest. "I believe you followed us up here thinking something might +happen. Now didn't you?" + +"Suppose I did," began Lorimer, but he was interrupted by his +friend, who seized his hand, and pressed it with a warm, close, +affectionate fervor. Their eyes met--and Lorimer blushed as though +he had performed some action meriting blame rather than gratitude. +"That'll do, old fellow," he said almost nervously. "As we say in +polite society when some one crushes our favorite corn under his +heel--don't mention it! You see Sigurd IS cracked,--there's not the +slightest doubt about that,--and he's hardly accountable for his +vagaries. Then I know something about him that perhaps you don't. He +loves your Thelma!" + +They were making the descent of the rocks together, and Errington +stopped short in surprise. + +"Loves Thelma! You mean as a brother--" + +"Oh no, I don't! I mean that he loves her as brothers often love +other people's sisters--his affection is by no means fraternal--if +it were only THAT--" + +"I see!" and Philip's eyes filled with a look of grave compassion. +"Poor fellow! I understand his hatred of me now. Good Heavens! how +he must suffer! I forgive him with all my heart. But--I say, Thelma +has no idea of this!" + +"Of course not. And you'd better not tell her. What's the good of +making her unhappy?" + +"But how did YOU learn it?" inquired Philip, with a look of some +curiosity at his friend. + +"Oh, I!" and Lorimer laughed carelessly; "I was always an observing +sort of fellow--fond of putting two and two together and making four +of them, when I wasn't too exhausted and the weather wasn't too hot +for the process. Sigurd's rather attached to me--indulges me with +some specially private ravings now and then--I soon found out his +secret, though I believe the poor little chap doesn't understand his +own feelings himself." + +"Well," said Errington thoughtfully, "under the circumstances you'd +better not mention this affair of the Fall to Guldmar. It will only +vex him. Sigurd won't try such a prank again." + +"I'm not so sure of that," replied Lorimer; "but you know enough now +to be on your guard with him." He paused and looked up with a misty +softness in his frank blue eyes--then went on in a subdued tone-- +"When I saw you on the edge of that frightful chasm, Phil--" He +broke off as if the recollection were too painful, and exclaimed +suddenly--"Good God! if I had lost you!" + +Errington clapped one hand on his shoulder. + +"Well! What if you had?" he asked almost mirthfully, though there +was a suspicious tremble in his ringing voice. + +"I should have said with Horatio, 'I am more an antique Roman than a +Dane,'--and gone after you," laughed Lorimer. "And who knows what a +jolly banquet we might not have been enjoying in the next world by +this time? If I believe in anything at all, I believe in a really +agreeable heaven--nectar and ambrosia, and all that sort of thing, +and Hebes to wait upon you." + +As he spoke they reached the sheltering hut, where Guldmar, Duprez, +and Macfarlane were waiting rather impatiently for them. + +"Where's Sigurd?" cried the bonde. + +"Gone for a ramble on his own account," answered Errington readily. +"You know his fancies!" + +"I wish his fancies would leave him," grumbled Guldmar. "He promised +to light a fire and spread the meal--and now, who knows whither he +has wandered?" + +"Never mind, sir," said Lorimer. "Engage me as a kitchen-boy. I can +light a fire, and can also sit beside it when it is properly +kindled. More I cannot promise. As the housemaids say when they +object to assist the cook,--it would be BENEATH me." + +"Cook!" cried Duprez, catching at this word. "I can cook! Give me +anything to broil. I will broil it! You have coffee--I will make +it!" And in the twinkling of an eye he had divested himself of his +coat, turned up his cuffs, and manufactured the cap of a chef out of +a newspaper which he stuck jauntily on his head. "Behold me, +messieurs, a votre service!" + +His liveliness was infectious; they all set to work with a will, and +in a few moments a crackling wood-fire blazed cheerily on the +ground, and the gipsy preparations for the al fresco supper went on +apace amid peals of laughter. Soon the fragrance of steaming coffee +arose and mingled itself with the resinous odors of the surrounding +pine-trees,--while Macfarlane distinguished himself by catching a +fine salmon trout in a quiet nook of the rushing river, and this +Duprez cooked in a style that would have done honor to a cordon +bleu. They made an excellent meal, and sang songs in turn and told +stories,--Olaf Guldmar, in particular, related eerie legends of the +Dovre-fjelde, and many a striking history of ancient origin, full of +terror and superstition,--concerning witches, devils, and spirits +both good and evil, who are still believed to have their abode on +the Norwegian hills,--for, as the bonde remarked with a smile, "when +civilization has driven these unearthly beings from every other +refuge in the world, they will always be sure of a welcome in +Norway." + +It was eleven o'clock when they at last retired within the hut to +rest for the night, and the errant Sigurd had not returned. The sun +shone brilliantly, but there was no window to the small shed, and +light and air came only through the door, which was left wide open. +The tired travellers lay down on their spread-out rugs and blankets, +and wishing each other a cheerful "good night," were soon fast +asleep. Errington was rather restless, and lay awake for some little +time, listening to the stormy discourse of the Fall; but at last his +eyelids yielded to the heaviness that oppressed them, and he sank +into a light slumber. + +Meanwhile the imperial sun rode majestically downwards to the edge +of the horizon,--and the sky blushed into the pale tint of a wild +rose, that deepened softly and steadily with an ever-increasing +fiery brillance as the minutes glided noiselessly on to the +enchanted midnight hour. A wind began to rustle mysteriously among +the pines--then gradually growing wrathful, strove to whistle a loud +defiance to the roar of the tumbling waters. Through the little +nooks and crannies of the roughly constructed cabin, where the +travellers slept, it uttered small wild shrieks of warning or +dismay--and, suddenly, as though touched by an invisible hand, Sir +Philip awoke. A crimson glare streaming through the open door +dazzled his drowsy eyes--was it a forest on fire? He started up in +dreamy alarm,--then remembered where he was. Realizing that there +must be an exceptionally fine sky to cast so ruddy a reflection on +the ground, he threw on his cloak and went outside. + +What a wondrous, almost unearthly scene greeted him! His first +impulse was to shout aloud in sheer ecstasy--his next to stand +silent in reverential awe. The great Fall was no longer a sweeping +flow of white foam--it had changed to a sparkling shower of rubies, +as though some great genie, tired of his treasures, were flinging +them away by giant handfuls, in the most reckless haste and lavish +abundance. From the bottom of the cascade a crimson vapor arose, +like smoke from flame, and the whirling rapids, deeply red for the +most part, darkened here and there into an olive-green flecked with +gold, while the spray, tossed high over interrupting rocks and +boulders, glittered as it fell like, small fragments of broken opal. +The sky was of one dense uniform rose-color from west to east,--soft +and shimmering as a broad satin pavilion freshly unrolled,--the sun +was invisible, hidden behind the adjacent mountains, but his rays +touched some peaks in the distance, on which white wreaths of snow +lay, bringing them into near and sparkling prominence. + +The whole landscape was transformed--the tall trees, rustling and +swaying in the now boisterous wind, took all flickering tints of +color on their trunks and leaves,--the grey stones and pebbles +turned to lumps of gold and heaps of diamonds, and on the other side +of the rapids, a large tuft of heather in a cleft of the rocks +glowed with extraordinary vividness and warmth, like a suddenly +kindled fire. A troop of witches dancing wildly on the sward,--a +ring of fairies,--kelpies tripping from crag to crag,--a sudden +chorus of sweet-voiced water-nymphs--nothing unreal or fantastical +would have surprised Errington at that moment. Indeed, he almost +expected something of the kind--the scene was so eminently fitted +for it. + +"Positively, I must wake Lorimer," he thought to himself. "He +oughtn't to miss such a gorgeous spectacle as this." + +He moved a little more in position to view the Fall. What was that +small dark object running swiftly yet steadily along on the highest +summit of those jutting crags? He rubbed his eyes amazedly--was it-- +could it be SIGURD? He watched it for a moment,--then uttered a loud +cry as he saw it pause on the very ledge of rock from which but a +short while since, he himself had been so nearly precipitated. The +figure was now distinctly visible, outlined in black against the +flaming crimson of the sky,--it stood upright and waved its arms +with a frantic gesture. There was no mistaking it--it WAS Sigurd! + +Without another second's hesitation Errington rushed back to the hut +and awoke, with clamorous alarm, the rest of the party. His brief +explanation sufficed--they all hurried forth in startled excitement. +Sigurd still occupied his hazardous position, and as they looked at +him he seemed to dance wildly nearer the extreme edge of the rocky +platform. Old Guldmar turned pale. "The gods preserve him!" he +muttered in his beard--then turning he began resolutely to make the +ascent of the rocks with long, rapid strides--the young men followed +him eager and almost breathless, each and all bent upon saving +Sigurd from the danger in which he stood, and trying by different +ways to get more quickly near the unfortunate lad and call, or draw +him back by force from his point of imminent deadly peril. They were +more than half-way up, when a piercing cry rang clearly above the +thunderous din of the fall--a cry that made them pause for a moment. + +Sigurd had caught sight of the figures advancing to his rescue, and +was waving them back with eloquent gesture of anger and defiance. +His small misshapen body was alive with wrath,--it seemed as though +he were some dwarf king ruling over the glittering crimson torrent, +and grimly forbidding strangers to enter on the boundaries of his +magic territory. They, however, pressed on with renewed haste,--and +they had nearly reached the summit when another shrill cry echoed +over the sunset-colored foam. + +Once more they paused they were in full view of the distraught +Sigurd, and he turned his head towards them, shaking back his long +fair hair with his old favorite gesture and laughing in apparent +glee. Then he suddenly raised his arms, and, clasping his hands +together, poised himself as though he were some winged thing about +to fly. + +"Sigurd! Sigurd!" shouted Guldmar, his strong voice tremulous with +anguish. "Come back! come back to Thelma!" + +At the sound of that beloved name, the unhappy creature seemed to +hesitate, and, profiting by that instant of irresolution, Errington +and Lorimer rushed forward--Too late! Sigurd saw them coming, and +glided with stealthy caution to the very brink of the torrent, where +there was scarcely any foothold--there he looked back at his would- +be rescuers with an air of mystery and cunning, and broke into a +loud derisive laugh. + +Then--still with clasped hands and smiling face--unheeding the shout +of horror that broke from those who beheld him--he leaped, and fell! +Down, down into the roaring abyss! For one half-second--one +lightning flash--his twisted figure, like a slight black speck was +seen against the wide roseate glory of the tumbling cascade--then it +disappeared, engulfed and lost for ever! Gone,--with all his wild +poet fancies and wandering dreams--gone, with his unspoken love and +unguessed sorrows--gone where dark things shall be made light,--and +where the broken or tangled chain of the soul's intelligence shall +be mended and made perfect by the tender hands of the All-Wise and +the All-Loving One, whose ways are too gloriously vast for our +finite comprehension. + +"Gone, mistress!" as he would have said to the innocent cause of his +heart's anguish. "Gone where I shall grow straight and strong and +brave! Mistress, if you meet me in Valhalla, you will love me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +"Do not, I pray you, think evilly of so holy a man! He has a sore +combat against the flesh and the devil!"--The Maid of Honor. + + +The horror-stricken spectators of the catastrophe stood for a minute +inert and speechless,--stupefied by its suddenness and awful +rapidity. Then with one accord they hurried down to the level shore +of the torrent, moved by the unanimous idea that they might possibly +succeed in rescuing Sigurd's frail corpse from the sharp teeth of +the jagged rocks, that, piercing upwards through the foam of the +roaring rapids, were certain to bruise, tear, and disfigure it +beyond all recognition. But even this small satisfaction was denied +them. There was no sign of a floating or struggling body anywhere +visible. And while they kept an eager look-out, the light in the +heavens slowly changed. From burning crimson it softened to a tender +amethyst hue, as smooth and delicate as the glossy pale tint of the +purple clematis,--and with it the rosy foam of the Fall graduated to +varying tints of pink, from pink to tender green, and lastly, it +became as a shower of amber wine. Guldmar spoke first in a voice +broken by deep emotion. + +"'Tis all over with him, poor lad!" he said, and tears glittered +thickly in his keen old eyes. "And--though the gods, of a surety, +know best--this is an end I looked not for! A mournful home- +returning shall we have--for how to break the news to Thelma is more +than I can tell!" + +And he shook his head sorrowfully while returning the warm and +sympathizing pressure of Errington's hand. + +"You see," he went on, with a wistful look at the grave and +compassionate face of his accepted son-in-law--"the boy was no boy +of mine, 'tis true--and the winds had more than their share of his +wits--yet--we knew him from a baby--and my wife loved him for his +sad estate, which he was not to blame for. Thelma, too--he was her +first playmate--" + +The bonde could trust himself to say no more, but turned abruptly +away, brushing one hand across his eyes, and was silent for many +minutes. The young men, too, were silent,--Sigurd's determined +suicide had chilled and sickened them. Slowly they returned to the +hut to pass the remaining hours of the night--though sleep was, of +course, after what they had witnessed, impossible. They remained +awake, therefore, talking in low tones of the fatal event, and +listening to the solemn sough of the wind through the pines, that +sounded to Errington's ears like a monotonous forest dirge. He +thought of the first time he had ever seen the unhappy creature +whose wandering days had just ended,--of that scene in the +mysterious shell cavern,--of the wild words he had then uttered--how +strangely they came back to Philip's memory now! + +"You have come as a thief in the golden midnight, and the thing you +seek is the life of Sigurd! Yes--yes! it is true--the spirit cannot +lie! You must kill, you must steal--see how the blood drips, drop by +drop, from the heart of Sigurd! and the jewel you steal,--ah! what a +jewel! You shall not find such another in Norway!" Was not the +hidden meaning of these incoherent phrases rendered somewhat clear +now? though how the poor lad's disordered imagination had been able +thus promptly to conjure up with such correctness, an idea of +Errington's future relations with Thelma, was a riddle impossible of +explanation. He thought, too, with a sort of generous remorse, of +that occasion when Sigurd had visited him on board the yacht to +implore him to leave the Altenfjord. He realized everything,--the +inchoate desires of the desolate being, who, though intensely +capable of loving, felt himself in a dim, sad way, unworthy of +love,--the struggling passions in him that clamored for utterance-- +the instinctive dread and jealousy of a rival, while knowing that he +was both physically and mentally unfitted to compete with one,--all +these things passed through Philip's mind, and filled him with a +most profound pity for the hidden sufferings, the tortures and +inexplicable emotions which had racked Sigurd's darkened soul. And, +still busy with these reflections, he turned on his arm as he lay, +and whispered softly to his friend who was close by him--"I say, +Lorimer,--I feel as if I had been to blame somehow in this affair! +If I had never come on the scene, Sigurd would still have been happy +in his own way." + +Lorimer was silent. After a pause, Errington went on still in the +same low tone. + +"Poor little fellow! Do you know, I can't imagine anything more +utterly distracting than having to see such a woman as Thelma day +after day,--loving her all the time, and knowing such love to be +absolutely hopeless! Why, it was enough to make him crazier than +ever!" + +Lorimer moved restlessly. "Yes, it must have been hard on him!" he +answered at last, in a gentle, somewhat sad tone. "Perhaps it's as +well he's out of it all. Life is infinitely perplexing to many of +us. By this time he's no doubt wiser than you or I, Phil,--he could +tell us the reason why love is such a blessing to some men, and such +a curse to others!" + +Errington made no answer, and they relapsed into silence--silence +which was almost unbroken save by an occasional deep sigh from Olaf +Guldmar and a smothered exclamation such as, "Poor lad, poor lad! +Who would have thought it?" + +With the early dawn they were all up and ready for the homeward +journey,--though with very different feelings to those with which +they had started on their expedition. The morning was dazzlingly +bright and clear,--and the cataract of Njedegorze rolled down in +glittering folds of creamy white and green, uttering its ceaseless +psalm of praise to the Creator in a jubilant roar of musical +thunder. They paused and looked at it for the last time before +leaving,--it had assumed for them a new and solemn aspect--it was +Sigurd's grave. The bonde raised his cap from his rough white hair,- +-instinctively the others followed his example. + +"May the gods grant him good rest!" said the old man reverently. "In +the wildest waters they say there is a calm underflow,--maybe the +lad has found it and is glad to sleep." He paused and stretched his +hands forth with an eloquent and touching gesture. "Peace be with +him!" + +Then, without more words, and as though disdaining his own emotion, +he turned abruptly away, and began to descend the stony and +precipitous hill, up which Sigurd had so skillfully guided them the +day before. Macfarlane and Duprez followed him close,--Macfarlane +casting more than once a keen look over the rapids. + +"'Tis a pity we couldna find his body," he said in a low tone. + +Duprez shrugged his shoulders. Sigurd's death had shocked him +considerably by its suddenness, but he was too much of a volatile +Frenchman to be morbidly anxious about securing the corpse. + +"I think not so at all," he said. "Of what use would it be? To +grieve mademoiselle? to make her cry? That would be cruel,--I would +not assist in it! A dead body is not a sight for ladies,--believe +me, things are best as they are." + +They went on, while Errington and Lorimer lingered yet a moment +longer. + +"A magnificent sepulchre!" said Lorimer, dreamily eyeing for the +last time the sweeping flow of the glittering torrent. "Better than +all the monuments ever erected! Upon my life, I would not mind +having such a grave myself! Say what you like, Phil, there was +something grand in Sigurd's choice of a death. We all of us have to +get out of life somehow one day--that's certain--but few of us have +the chance of making such a triumphant exit!" + +Errington looked at him with a grave smile. "How you talk, George!" +he said half-reproachfully. "One would think you envied the end of +that unfortunate, half-witted fellow! You've no reason to be tired +of your life, I'm sure,--all your bright days are before you." + +"Are they?" And Lorimer's blue eyes looked slightly melancholy. +"Well, I dare say they are! Let's hope so at all events. There need +be something before me,--there isn't much behind except wasted +opportunities. Come on, Phil!" + +They resumed their walk, and soon rejoined the others. The journey +back to the Altenfjord was continued all day with but one or two +interruptions for rest and refreshment. It was decided that on +reaching home, old Guldmar should proceed a little in advance, in +order to see his daughter alone first, and break to her the news of +the tragic event that had occurred,--so that when, after a long and +toilsome journey, they caught sight, at about eight in the evening, +of the familiar farmhouse through the branches of the trees that +surrounded and sheltered it, they all came to a halt. + +The young men seated themselves on a pleasant knoll under some tall +pines, there to wait a quarter of an hour or so, while the bonde +went forward to prepare Thelma. On second thoughts, the old man +asked Errington to accompany him,--a request to which he very +readily acceded, and these two, leaving the others to follow at +their leisure, went on their way rapidly. They arrived at, and +entered the garden,--their footsteps made a crunching noise on the +pebbly path,--but no welcoming face looked forth from any of the +windows of the house. The entrance door stood wide open,--there was +not a living soul to be seen but the kitten asleep in a corner of +the porch, and the doves drowsing on the roof in the sunshine. The +deserted air of the place was unmistakable, and Guldmar and +Errington exchanged looks of wonder not unmixed with alarm. + +"Thelma! Thelma!" called the bonde anxiously. There was no response. +He entered the house and threw open the kitchen door. There was no +fire,--and not the slightest sign of any of the usual preparations +for supper. + +"Britta!" shouted Guldmar. Still no answer. "By the gods!" he +exclaimed, turning to the astonished Philip, "this is a strange +thing! Where can the girls be? I have never known both of them to be +absent from the house at the same time. Go down to the shore, my +lad, and see if Thelma's boat is missing, while I search the +garden." + +Errington obeyed--hurrying off on his errand with a heart beating +fast from sudden fear and anxiety. For he knew Thelma was was not +likely to have gone out of her own accord, at the very time she +would have naturally expected her father and his friends back, and +the absence of Britta too, was, to say the least of it, +extraordinary. He reached the pier very speedily, and saw at a +glance that the boat was gone. He hastened back to report this to +Guldmar, who was making the whole place resound with his shouts of +"Thelma!" and "Britta!" though he shouted altogether in vain. + +"Maybe," he said dubiously, on hearing of the missing boat--"Maybe +the child has gone on the Fjord--'tis often her custom,--but, then, +where is Britta? Besides, they must have expected us--they would +have prepared supper--they would have been watching for our return. +No, no! there is something wrong about this--'tis altogether +unusual." + +And he looked about him in a bewildered way, while Sir Philip, +noting his uneasiness, grew more and more uneasy himself. + +"Let me go and search for them, sir," he said, eagerly. "They may be +in the woods, or up towards the orchard." + +Guldmar shook his head and drew his fuzzy white brows together in +puzzled meditation--suddenly he started and struck his staff +forcibly on the ground. + +"I have it!" he exclaimed. "That old hag Lovisa is at the bottom of +this!" + +"By Jove!" cried Errington. "I believe you're right! What shall we +do?" + +At that moment, Lorimer, Duprez, and Macfarlane came on the scene, +thinking they had kept aloft long enough,--and the strange +disappearance of the two girls was rapidly explained to them. They +listened astonished and almost incredulous, but agreed with the +bonde as to Lovisa's probable share in the matter. + +"Look here!" said Lorimer excitedly. "I'm not in the least tired,-- +show me the way to Talvig, where that old screech-owl lives, and +I'll go there straight as a gun! Shouldn't wonder if she has not +forced away her grandchild, in which case Miss Thelma may have gone +after her." + +"I'll come with you!" said Errington. "Let's lose no time about it." + +But Guldmar shook his head. "'Tis a long way, my lads,--and you do +not know the road. No--'twill be better we should take the boat and +pull over to Bosekop; there we can get a carriole to take two of us +at least to Talvig--" + +He stopped, interrupted by Macfarlane, who looked particularly +shrewd. + +"I should certainly advise ye to try Bosekop first," he remarked +cautiously. "Mr. Dyceworthy might be able to provide ye with +valuable information." + +"Dyceworthy!" roared the bonde, becoming inflammable at once. "He +knows little of me or mine, thank the gods! and I would not by +choice step within a mile of his dwelling. What makes you think of +him, sir?" + +Lorimer laid a hand soothingly on his arm. + +"Now, my dear Mr. Guldmar, don't get excited! Mac is right. I dare +say Dyceworthy knows as much in his way as the ancient Lovisa. At +any rate, it isn't his fault if he does not. Because you see-- +"Lorimer hesitated and turned to Errington. "You tell him, Phil! you +know all about it." + +"The fact is," said Errington, while Guldmar gazed from one to the +other in speechless amazement, "Thelma hasn't told you because she +knew how angry you'd be--but Dyceworthy asked her to marry him. Of +course she refused him, and I doubt if he's taken his rejection very +resignedly." + +The face of the old farmer as he heard these words was a study. +Wonder, contempt, pride, and indignation struggled for the mastery +on his rugged features. + +"Asked--her--to--marry--him!" he repeated slowly. "By the sword of +Odin! Had I known it I would have throttled him!" His eyes blazed +and he clenched his hand. "Throttled him, lads! I would! Give me the +chance and I'll do it now! I tell you, the mere look of such a man +as that is a desecration to my child,--liar and hypocrite as he is! +may the gods confound him!" He paused--then suddenly bracing himself +up, added. "I'll away to Bosekop at once--they've been afraid of me +there for no reason--I'll teach them to be afraid of me in earnest! +Who'll come with me?" + +All eagerly expressed their desire to accompany him with the +exception of one,--Pierre Duprez,--he had disappeared. + +"Why, where has he gone?" demanded Lorimer in some surprise. + +"I canna tell," replied Macfarlane. "He just slipped awa' while ye +were haverin' about Dyceworthy--he'll maybe join us at the shore." + +To the shore they at once betook themselves, and were soon busied in +unmooring Guldmar's own rowing-boat, which. as it had not been used +for some time, was rather a tedious business,--moreover they noted +with concern that the tide was dead against them. + +Duprez did not appear,--the truth is, that he had taken into his +head to start off for Talvig on foot without waiting for the others. +He was fond of an adventure and here was one that suited him +precisely--to rescue distressed damsels from the grasp of +persecutors. He was tired, but he managed to find the road,--and he +trudged on determinedly, humming a song of Beranger's as he walked +to keep him cheerful. But he had not gone much more than a mile when +he discerned in the distance a carriole approaching him,--and +approaching so swiftly that it appeared to swing from side to side +of the road at imminent risk of upsetting altogether. There seemed +to be one person in it--an excited person too, who lashed the stout +little pony and urged it on to fresh exertions with gesticulations +and cries. That plump buxom figure--that tumbled brown hair +streaming wildly on, the breeze,--that round rosy face--why! it was +Britta! Britta, driving all alone, with the reckless daring of a +Norwegian peasant girl accustomed to the swaying, jolting movement +of the carriole as well as the rough roads and sharp turnings. +Nearer she came and nearer--and Duprez hailed her with a shout of +welcome. She saw him, answered his call, and drove still faster,-- +soon she came up beside him, and without answering his amazed +questions, she cried breathlessly-- + +"Jump in--jump in! We must go on as quickly as possible to Bosekop! +Quick--quick! Oh my poor Froken! The old villain! Wait till I get at +him!" + +"But, my leet-le child!" expostulated Pierre, climbing up into the +queer vehicle--"What is all this? I am in astonishment--I understand +not at all! How comes it that you are run away from home, and +Mademoiselle also?" + +Britta only waited till he was safely seated, and then lashed the +pony with redoubled force. Away they clattered at a break-neck pace, +the Frenchman having much ado to prevent himself from being jolted +out again on the road. + +"It is a wicked plot!" she then exclaimed, panting with excitement-- +"a wicked, wicked plot! This afternoon Mr. Dyceworthy's servant came +and brought Sir Philip's card. It said that he had met with an +accident and had been brought back to Bosekop, and that he wished +the Froken to come to him at once. Of course, the darling believed +it all--and she grew so pale, so pale! And she went straight away in +her boat all by herself! Oh my dear--my dear!" + +Britta gasped for breath, and Duprez soothingly placed an arm round +her waist, an action which the little maiden seemed not to be aware +of. She resumed her story--"Then the Froken had not been gone so +very long, and I was watching for her in the garden, when a woman +passed by--a friend of my grandmother's. She called out--'Hey, +Britta! Do you know they have got your mistress down at Talvig, and +they'll burn her for a witch before they sleep!' 'She has gone to +Bosekop,' I answered, 'so I know you tell a lie.' 'It is no lie,' +said the old woman, 'old Lovisa has her this time for sure.' And she +laughed and went away. Well, I did not stop to think twice about it- +-I started off for Talvig at once--I ran nearly all the way. I found +my grandmother alone--I asked her if she had seen the Froken? She +screamed and clapped her hands like a mad woman! she said that the +Froken was with Mr. Dyceworthy--Mr. Dyceworthy would know what to do +with her!" + +"Sapristi!" ejaculated Duprez. "This is serious!" + +Britta glanced anxiously at him, and went on. "Then she tried to +shut the doors upon me and beat me--but I escaped. Outside I saw a +man I knew with his carriole, and I borrowed it of him and came back +as fast as I could--but oh! I am so afraid--my grandmother said such +dreadful things!" + +"The others have taken a boat to Bosekop," said Duprez, to re-assure +her. "They may be there by now." + +Britta shook her head. "The tide is against them--no! we shall be +there first. But," and she looked wistfully at Pierre, "my +grandmother said Mr. Dyceworthy had sworn to ruin the Froken. What +did she mean, do you think?" + +Duprez did not answer,--he made a strange grimace and shrugged his +shoulders. Then he seized the whip and lashed the pony. + +"Faster, faster, mon chere!" he cried to that much-astonished, well- +intentioned animal. "It is not a time to sleep, ma foi!" Then to +Britta--"My little one, you shall see! We shall disturb the good +clergyman at his peaceful supper--yes indeed! Be not afraid!" + +And with such reassuring remarks he beguiled the rest of the way, +which to both of them seemed unusually long, though it was not much +past nine when they rattled into the little village called by +courtesy a town, and came to a halt within a few paces of the +minister's residence. Everything was very quiet--the inhabitants of +the place retired to rest early--and the one principal street was +absolutely deserted. Duprez alighted. + +"Stay you here, Britta," he said, lightly kissing the hand that held +the pony's reins. "I will make an examination of the windows of the +house. Yes--before knocking at the door! You wait with patience. I +will let you know everything!" + +And with a sense of pleasurable excitement in his mind, he stole +softly along on tip-toe--entered the minister's garden, fragrant +with roses and mignonette, and then, attracted by the sound of +voices, went straight up to the parlor window. The blind was down +and he could see nothing, but he heard Mr. Dyceworthy's bland +persuasive tones, echoing out with a soft sonorousness, as though he +were preaching to some refractory parishioner. He listened +attentively. + +"Oh strange, strange!" said Mr. Dyceworthy. "Strange that you will +not see how graciously the Lord hath delivered you into my hands! +Yea,--and no escape is possible! For lo, you yourself, Froken +Thelma," Dyceworthy started, "you yourself came hither unto my +dwelling, a woman all unprotected, to a man equally unprotected,-- +and who, though a humble minister of saving grace, is not proof +against the offered surrender of your charms! Make the best of it, +my sweet girl!--make the best of it! You can never undo what you +have done to-night." + +"Coward!. . . coward!" and Thelma's rich low voice caused Pierre to +almost leap forward from the place where he stood concealed. "You,-- +YOU made me come here--YOU sent me that card--YOU dared to use the +name of my betrothed husband, to gain your vile purpose! YOU have +kept me locked in this room all these hours--and do you think you +will not be punished? I will let the whole village know of your +treachery and falsehood!" + +Mr. Dyceworthy laughed gently. "Dear me, dear me!" he remarked +sweetly. "How pretty we look in a passion, to be sure! And we talk +of our 'betrothed husband' do we? Tut-tut! Put that dream out of +your mind, my dear girl--Sir Philip Bruce-Errington will have +nothing to do with you after your little escapade of to-night! Your +honor is touched!--yes, yes! and honor is everything to such a man +as he. As for the 'card' you talk about, I never sent a card--not +I!" Mr. Dyceworthy made this assertion in a tone of injured honesty. +"Why should I! No--no! You came here of your own accord,--that is +certain and--" here he spoke more slowly and with a certain +malicious glee, "I shall have no difficulty in proving it to be so, +should the young man Errington ask me for an explanation! Now you +had better give me a kiss and make the peace! There's not a soul in +the place who will believe anything you say against me; YOU, a +reputed witch, and I, a minister of the Gospel. For your father I +care nothing, a poor sinful pagan can never injure a servant of the +Lord. Come now, let me have that kiss! I have been very patient--I +am sure I deserve it!" + +There was a sudden rushing movement in the room, and a slight cry. + +"If you touch me!" cried Thelma, "I will kill you! I will! God will +help me!" + +Again Mr. Dyceworthy laughed sneeringly. "God will help you!" he +exclaimed as though in wonder. "As if God ever helped a ROMAN! +Froken Thelma, be sensible. By your strange visit to me to-night you +have ruined your already damaged character--I say you have ruined +it,--and if anything remains to be said against you, I can say it-- +moreover, I WILL!" + +A crash of breaking window-glass followed these words, and before +Mr. Dyceworthy could realize what had happened, he was pinioned +against his own wall by an active, wiry, excited individual, whose +black eyes sparkled with gratified rage, whose clenched fist was +dealing him severe thumps all over his fat body. + +"Ha, ha! You will, will you!" cried Duprez, literally dancing up +against him and squeezing him as though he were a jelly. "You will +tell lies in the service of le Bon Dieu? No--not quite, not yet!" +And still pinioning him with one hand, he dragged at his collar with +the other till he succeeded, in spite of the minister's unwieldly +efforts to defend himself, in rolling him down upon the floor, where +he knelt upon him in triumph. "Voila! Je sais faire la boxe, moi!" +Then turning to Thelma, who stood an amazed spectator of the scene, +her flushed cheeks and tear-swollen eyes testifying to the misery of +the hours she had passed, he said, "Run, Mademoiselle, run! The +little Britta is outside, she has a pony-car--she will drive you +home. I will stay here till Phil-eep comes. I shall enjoy myself! I +will begin--Phil-eep with finish! Then we will return to you." + +Thelma needed no more words, she rushed to the door, threw it open, +and vanished like a bird in air. Britta's joy at seeing her was too +great for more than an exclamation of welcome,--and the carriole, +with the two girls safely in it, was soon on its rapid way back to +the farm. Meanwhile, Olaf Guldmar, with Errington and the others, +had just landed at Bosekop after a heavy pull across the Fjord, and +they made straight for Mr. Dyceworthy's house, the bonde working +himself up as he walked into a positive volcano of wrath. Finding +the street-door open as it had just been left by the escaped Thelma, +they entered, and on the threshold of the parlor, stopped abruptly, +in amazement at the sight that presented itself. Two figures were +rolling about on the floor, apparently in a close embrace,--one +large and cumbrous, the other small and slight. Sometimes they shook +each other,--sometimes they lay still,--sometimes they recommenced +rolling. Both were perfectly silent, save that the larger personage +seemed to breathe somewhat heavily. Lorimer stepped into the room to +secure a better view--then he broke into an irrepressible laugh. + +"It's Duprez," he cried, for the benefit of the others that stood at +the door. "By Jove! How did he get here, I wonder?" + +Hearing his name, Duprez looked up from that portion of My. +Dyceworthy's form in which he had been burrowing, and smiled +radiantly. + +"Ah, cher Lorimer! Put your knee here, will you? So! that is well--I +will rest myself!" And he rose, smoothing his roughened hair with +both hands, while Lorimer in obedience to his request, kept one knee +artistically pressed on the recumbent figure of the minister. "Ah! +and there is our Phil-eep, and Sandy, and Monsieur Guldmar! But I do +not think," here he beamed all over, "there is much more to be done! +He is one bruise, I assure you! He will not preach for many +Sundays;--it is bad to be so fat--he will be so exceedingly +suffering!" + +Errington could not forbear smiling at Pierre's equanimity. "But +what has happened?" he asked. "Is Thelma here?" + +"She WAS here," answered Duprez. "The religious had decoyed her here +by means of some false writing,--supposed to be from you. He kept +her locked up here the whole afternoon. When I came he was making +love and frightening her,--I am pleased I was in time. But"--and he +smiled again--"he is well beaten!" + +Sir Philip strode up to the fallen Dyceworthy, his face darkening +with wrath. + +"Let him go, Lorimer," he said sternly. Then, as the reverend +gentleman slowly struggled to his feet, moaning with pain, he +demanded, "What have you to say for yourself, sir? Be thankful if I +do not give you the horse-whipping you deserve, you scoundrel!" + +"Let me get at him!" vociferated Guldmar at this juncture, +struggling to free himself from the close grasp of the prudent +Macfarlane. "I have longed for such a chance! Let me get at him!" + +But Lorimer assisted to restrain him from springing forward,--and +the old man chafed and swore by his gods in vain. + +Mr. Dyceworthy meanwhile meekly raised his eyes, and folded his +hands with a sort of pious resignation. + +"I have been set upon and cruelly abused," he said mournfully, "and +there is no part of me without ache and soreness!" He sighed deeply. +"But I am punished rightly for yielding unto carnal temptation, put +before me in the form of the maiden who came hither unto me with +delusive entrancements--" + +He stopped, shrinking back in alarm from the suddenly raised fist of +the young baronet. + +"You'd better be careful!" remarked Philip coolly, with dangerously +flashing eyes; "there are four of us here, remember!" + +Mr. Dyceworthy coughed, and resumed an air of outraged dignity. + +"Truly, I am aware of it!" he said; "and it surpriseth me not at all +that the number of the ungodly outweigheth that of the righteous! +Alas! 'why do the heathen rage so furiously together?' Why, indeed! +Except that 'in their hearts they imagine a vain thing!' I pardon +you, Sir Philip, I freely pardon you! And you also, sir," turning +gravely to Duprez, who received his forgiveness with a cheerful and +delighted bow. "You can indeed injure--and you HAVE injured this +poor body of mine--but you cannot touch the SOUL! No, nor can you +hinder that freedom of speech"--here his malignant smile was truly +diabolical--"which is my glory, and which shall forever be uplifted +against all manner of evil-doers, whether they be fair women and +witches, or misguided pagans--" + +Again he paused, rather astonished at Errington's scornful laugh. + +"You low fellow!" said the baronet. "From Yorkshire, are you? Well, +I happen to know a good many people in that part of the world--and I +have some influence there, too. Now, understand me--I'll have you +hounded out of the place! You shall find it too hot to hold you-- +that I swear! Remember! I'm a man of my word! And if you dare to +mention the name of Miss Guldmar disrespectfully, I'll thrash you +within an inch of your life!" + +Mr. Dyceworthy blinked feebly, and drew out his handkerchief. + +"I trust, Sir Philip," he said mildly, "you will reconsider your +words! It would ill beseem you to strive to do me harm in the parish +were my ministrations are welcome, as appealing to that portion of +the people who follow the godly Luther. Oh yes,"--and he smiled +cheerfully--"you will reconsider your words. In the meantime--I--I"- +-he stammered slightly--"I apologize! I meant naught but good to the +maiden--but I have been misunderstood, as is ever the case with the +servants of the Lord. Let us say no more about it! I forgive!--let +us all forgive! I will even extend my pardon to the pagan yonder--" + +But the "pagan" at that moment broke loose from the friendly grasp +in which he had been hitherto held, and strode up to the minister, +who recoiled like a beaten cur from the look of that fine old face +flushed with just indignation, and those clear blue eyes fiery as +the flash of steel. + +"Pagan, you call me!" he cried. "I thank the gods for it--I am proud +of the title! I would rather be the veriest savage that ever knelt +in untutored worship to the great forces of Nature, than such a +THING as you--a slinking, unclean animal, crawling coward-like +between earth and sky, and daring to call itself a CHRISTIAN! Faugh! +Were I the Christ, I should sicken at sight of you!" + +Dyceworthy made no reply, but his little eyes glittered evilly. + +Errington, not desiring any further prolongation of the scene, +managed to draw the irate bonde away, saying in a low tone-- + +"We've had enough of this, sir! Let us get home to Thelma." + +"I was about to suggest a move," added Lorimer. "We are only wasting +time here." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Duprez radiantly--"and Monsieur Dyceworthy will be +glad to be in bed! He will be very stiff to-morrow, I am sure! Here +is a lady who will attend him." + +This with a courteous salute to the wooden-faced Ulrika, who +suddenly confronted them in the little passage. She seemed surprised +to see them, and spoke in a monotonous dreamy tone, as though she +walked in her sleep. + +"The girl has gone?" she added slowly. + +Duprez nodded briskly. "She has gone! And let me tell you, madame, +that if it had not been for you, she would not have come here at +all. You took that card to her?" + +Ulrika frowned. "I was compelled," she said. "SHE made me take it. I +promised." She turned her dull eyes slowly on Guldmar. "It was +Lovisa's fault. Ask Lovisa about it." She paused, and moistened her +dry lips with her tongue. "Where is your crazy lad?" she asked, +almost anxiously. "Did he come with you?" + +"He is dead!" answered Guldmar, with grave coldness. + +"Dead!" And to their utter amazement, she threw up her arms and +burst into a fit of wild laughter. "Dead! Thank God! Thank God! +Dead! And through no fault of mine! The Lord be praised! He was only +fit for death--never mind how he died--it is enough that he is dead- +-dead! I shall see him no more--he cannot curse me again!--the Lord +be thankful for all His mercies!" + +And her laughter ceased--she threw her apron over her head and broke +into a passion of weeping. + +"The woman must be crazy!" exclaimed the bonde, thoroughly +mystified,--then placing his arm through Errington's, he said +impatiently, "You're right, my lad! We've had enough of this. Let us +shake the dust of this accursed place off our feet and get home. I'm +tired out!" + +They left the minister's dwelling and made straight for the shore, +and were soon well on their journey back to the farm across the +Fjord. This time the tide was with them--the evening was +magnificent, and the coolness of the breeze, the fresh lapping of +the water against the boat, and the brilliant tranquility of the +landscape, soon calmed their over-excited feelings. Thelma was +waiting for them under the porch as usual, looking a trifle paler +than her wont, after all the worry and fright and suspense she had +undergone,--but the caresses of her father and lover soon brought +back the rosy warmth on her fair face, and restored the lustre to +her eyes. Nothing was said about Sigurd's fate just then,--when she +asked for her faithful servitor, she was told he had "gone wandering +as usual," and it was not till Errington and his friends returned to +their yacht that old Guldmar, left alone with his daughter, broke +the sad news to her very gently. But the shock, so unexpected and +terrible, was almost too much for her already overwrought nerves,-- +and such tears were shed for Sigurd as Sigurd himself might have +noted with gratitude. Sigurd--the loving, devoted Sigurd--gone for +ever! Sigurd,--her playmate,--her servant,--her worshiper,--dead! +Ah, how tenderly she mourned him!--how regretfully she thought of +his wild words! "Mistress, you are killing poor Sigurd!" Wistfully +she wondered if, in her absorbing love for Philip, she had neglected +the poor crazed lad,--his face, in all its pale, piteous appeal, +haunted her, and her grief for his loss was the greatest she had +ever known since the day on which she had seen her mother sink into +the last long sleep. Britta, too, wept and would not be comforted-- +she had been fond of Sigurd in her own impetuous little way,--and it +was some time before either she or her mistress, could calm +themselves sufficiently to retire to rest. And long after Thelma was +sleeping, with tears still wet on her cheeks, her father sat alone +under his porch, lost in melancholy meditation. Now and then he +ruffled his white hair impatiently with his hand,--his daughter's +adventure in Mr. Dyceworthy's house had vexed his proud spirit. He +knew well enough that the minister's apology meant nothing--that the +whole village would be set talking against Thelma more, even than +before,--that there was no possibility of preventing scandal so long +as Dyceworthy was there to start it. He thought and thought and +puzzled himself with probabilities--till at last, when he finally +rose to enter his dwelling for the night, he muttered half-aloud. +"If it must be, it must! And the sooner the better now, I think, for +the child's sake." + +The next morning Sir Philip arrived unusually early,--and remained +shut up with the bonde, in private conversation for more than an +hour. At the expiration of that time, Thelma was called, and taken +into their confidence. The result of their mysterious discussion was +not immediately evident,--though for the next few days, the farm- +house lost its former tranquility and became a scene of bustle and +excitement. Moreover, to the astonishment of the Bosekop folk, the +sailing-brig known as the Valkyrie, belonging to Olaf Guldmar, which +had been hauled up high and dry on the shore for many months, was +suddenly seen afloat on the Fjord, and Valdemar Svensen, Errington's +pilot, appeared to be busily engaged upon her decks, putting +everything in ship-shape order. It was no use asking HIM any +questions--he was not the man to gratify impertinent curiosity. By- +and-by a rumor got about in the village--Lovisa had gained her point +in one particular,--the Guldmars were going away--going to leave the +Altenfjord! + +At first, the report was received with incredulity--but gained +ground, as people began to notice that several packages were being +taken in boats from the farm-house to both the Eulalie and the +Valkyrie. These preparations excited a great deal of interest and +inquisitiveness,--but no one dared ask for information as to what +was about to happen. The Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy was confined to his +bed "from a severe cold"--as he said, and therefore was unable to +perform his favorite mission of spy;--so that when, one brilliant +morning, Bosekop was startled by the steam-whistle of the Eulalie +blowing furiously, and echoing far and wide across the surrounding +rocky islands, several of the lounging inhabitants paused on the +shore, or sauntered down to the rickety pier, to see what was the +cause of the clamor. Even the long-suffering minister crawled out of +bed and applied his fat, meek visage to his window, from whence he +could command an almost uninterrupted view of the glittering water. +Great was his amazement, and discomfiture to see the magnificent +yacht moving majestically out of the Fjord, with Guldmar's brig in +tow behind her, and the English flag fluttering gaily from her +middle-mast, as she curtsied her farewell to the dark mountains, and +glided swiftly over the little hissing waves. Had Mr. Dyceworthy +been possessed of a field-glass, he might have been able to discern +on her deck, the figure of a tall, fair girl, who, drawing her +crimson hood over her rich hair, stood gazing with wistful, dreamy +blue eyes, at the last receding shores of the Altenfjord--eyes that +smiled and yet were tearful. + +"Are you sorry, Thelma?" asked Errington gently, as he passed one +arm tenderly round her. "Sorry to trust your life to me?" + +She laid her little hand in playful reproach against his lips. + +"Sorry! you foolish boy! I am glad and grateful! But it is saying +good-bye to one's old life, is it not? The dear old home!--and poor +Sigurd!" + +Her voice trembled, and bright tears fell. + +"Sigurd is happy,"--said Errington gravely, taking the hand that +caressed him, and reverently kissing it. "Believe me, love,--if he +had lived some cruel misery might have befallen him--it is better as +it is!" + +Thelma did not answer for a minute or two-then she said suddenly-- +"Philip,--do you remember where I saw you first?" + +"Perfectly!" he answered, looking fondly into the sweet upturned +face. "Outside a wonderful cavern, which I afterwards explored." + +She started and seemed surprised. "You went inside?--you saw--?" + +"Everything!"--and Philip related his adventure of that morning, and +his first interview with Sigurd. She listened attentively--then she +whispered softly-- + +"My mother sleeps there, you know,--yesterday I went to take her +some flowers for the last time. Father came with me--we asked her +blessing. And I think she will give it, Philip--she must know how +good you are and how happy I am." + +He stroked her silky hair tenderly and was silent. The Eulalie had +reached the outward bend of the Altenfjord, and the station of +Bosekop was rapidly disappearing. Olaf Guldmar and the others came +on deck to take their last look of it. + +"I shall see the old place again, I doubt not, long before you do, +Thelma, child," said the stout old bonde, viewing, with a keen, fond +glance, the stretch of the vanishing scenery. "Though when once you +are safe married at Christiania, Valdemar Svensen and I will have a +fine toss on the seas in the Valkyrie,--and I shall grow young again +in the storm and drift of the foam and the dark wild waves! Yes--a +wandering life suits me--and I am not sorry to have a taste of it +once more. There's nothing like it--nothing like a broad ocean and a +sweeping wind!" + +And he lifted his cap and drew himself erect, inhaling the air like +an old warrior scenting battle. The others listened, amused at his +enthusiasm,--and, meanwhile, the Altenfjord altogether disappeared, +and the Eulalie was soon plunging in a rougher sea. They were bound +for Christiania, where it was decided Thelma's marriage should at +once take place--after which Sir Philip would leave his yacht at the +disposal of his friends, for them to return in it to England. He +himself intended to start directly for Germany with his bride, a +trip in which Britta was to accompany them as Thelma's maid. Olaf +Guldmar, as he had just stated, purposed making a voyage in the +Valkyrie, as soon as he should get her properly manned and fitted, +which he meant to do at Christiania. + +Such were their plans,--and, meanwhile, they were all together on +the Eulalie,--a happy and sociable party,--Errington having resigned +his cabin to the use of his fair betrothed, and her little maid, +whose delight at the novel change in her life, and her escape from +the persecution of her grandmother, was extreme. Onward they +sailed,--past the grand Lofoden Islands and all the magnificent +scenery extending thence to Christiansund, while the inhabitants of +Bosekop looked in vain for their return to the Altenfjord. + +The short summer there was beginning to draw to a close,--some of +the birds took their departure from the coast,--the dull routine of +the place went on as usual, rendered even duller by the absence of +the "witch" element of discord,--a circumstance that had kept the +superstitious villagers, more or less on a lively tension of +religious and resentful excitement--and by-and-by, the rightful +minister of Bosekop came back to his duties and released the +Reverend Charles Dyceworthy, who straightway returned to his loving +flock in Yorkshire. It was difficult to ascertain whether the aged +Lovisa was satisfied or wrathful, at the departure of the Guldmars +with her granddaughter Britta in their company--she kept herself +almost buried in her hut at Talvig, and saw no one but Ulrika, who +seemed to grow more respectably staid than ever, and who, as a +prominent member of the Lutheran congregation, distinguished herself +greatly by her godly bearing and uncompromising gloom. + +Little by little, the gossips ceased to talk about the disappearance +of the "white witch" and her father--little by little they ceased to +speculate as to whether the rich Englishman, Sir Philip Errington, +really meant to marry her--a consummation of things which none of +them seemed to think likely--the absence of their hated neighbors, +was felt by them as a relief, while the rumored fate of the crazy +Sigurd was of course looked upon as evidence of fresh crime on the +part of the "pagan," who was accused of having, in some way or +other, caused the unfortunate lad's death. And the old farm-house on +the pine-covered knoll was shut up and silent,--its doors and +windows safely barred against wind and rain,--and only the doves, +left to forage for themselves, crooned upon its roof, all day, or +strutting on the deserted paths, ruffled their plumage in melancholy +meditation, as though wondering at the absence of the fair ruling +spirit of the place, whose smile had been brighter than the +sunshine. The villagers avoided it as though it were haunted--the +roses drooped and died untended,--and by degrees the old homestead +grew to look like a quaint little picture of forgotten joys, with +its deserted porch and fading flowers. + +Meanwhile, a thrill of amazement, incredulity, disappointment, +indignation, and horror, rushed like a violent electric shock +through the upper circles of London society, arousing the deepest +disgust in the breasts of match-making matrons, and seriously +ruffling the pretty feathers of certain bird-like beauties who had +just began to try their wings, and who "had expectations." The cause +of the sensation was very simple. It was an announcement in the +Times--under the head of "Marriages"--and ran as follows: + +"At the English Consulate, Christiania, Sir Philip Bruce-Errington, +Bart., to Thelma, only daughter of Olaf Guldmar, Bonde, of the +Altenfjord, Norway. No cards." + + + + +BOOK II. + + +THE LAND OF MOCKERY + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +"There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys." + + MACBETH. + + +"I think," said Mrs. Rush-Marvelle deliberately, laying down the +Morning Post beside her breakfast-cup, "I think his conduct is +perfectly disgraceful!" + +Mr. Rush-Marvelle, a lean gentleman with a sallow, clean-shaven face +and an apologetic, almost frightened manner, looked up hastily. + +"Of whom are you speaking, my dear?" he inquired. + +"Why, of that wretched young man Bruce-Errington! He ought to be +ashamed of himself!" + +And Mrs. Marvelle fixed her glasses more firmly on her small nose, +and regarded her husband almost reproachfully. "Don't tell me, +Montague, that you've forgotten that scandal about him! He went off +last year, in the middle of the season, to Norway, in his yacht, +with three of the very fastest fellows he could pick out from his +acquaintance--regular reprobates, so I'm told--and after leading the +most awful life out there, making love to all the peasant girls in +the place, he married one of them,--a common farmer's daughter. +Don't you remember? We saw the announcement of his marriage in the +Times" + +"Ah yes, yes!" And Mr. Rush-Marvelle smiled a propitiatory smile, +intended to soothe the evidently irritated feelings of his better- +half, of whom he stood always in awe. "Of course, of course! A very +sad mesalliance. Yes, yes! Poor fellow! And is there fresh news of +him?" + +"Read THAT,"--and the lady handed the Morning Post across the table, +indicating by a dent of her polished finger-nail, the paragraph that +had offended her sense of social dignity. Mr. Marvelle read it with +almost laborious care--though it was remarkably short and easy of +comprehension. + +"Sir Philip and Lady Bruce-Errington have arrived at their house in +Prince's Gate from Errington Manor." + +"Well, my dear?" he inquired, with a furtive and anxious glance at +his wife. "I suppose--er--it--er--it was to be expected?" + +"No, it was NOT to be expected," said Mrs. Rush-Marvelle, rearing +her head, and heaving her ample bosom to and fro in rather a +tumultuous manner. "Of course it was to be expected that Bruce- +Errington would behave like a fool--his father was a fool before +him. But I say it was not to be expected that he would outrage +society by bringing that common wife of his to London, and expecting +US to receive her! The thing is perfectly scandalous! He has had the +decency to keep away from town ever since his marriage--part of the +time he has staid abroad, and since January he has been at his place +in Warwickshire,--and this time--observe this!" and Mrs. Marvelle +looked most impressive--"not a soul has been invited to the Manor-- +not a living soul! The house used to be full of people during the +winter season--of course, now, he dare not ask anybody lest they +should be shocked at his wife's ignorance. That's as clear as +daylight! And now he has the impudence to actually bring her here,-- +into SOCIETY! Good Heavens! He must be mad! He will be laughed at +wherever he goes!" + +Mr. Rush-Marvelle scratched his bony chin perplexedly. + +"It makes it a little awkward for--for you," he remarked feelingly. + +"Awkward! It is abominable!" And Mrs. Marvelle rose from her chair, +and shook out the voluminous train of her silken breakfast-gown, an +elaborate combination of crimson with grey chinchilla fur. "I shall +have to call on the creature--just imagine it! It is most +unfortunate for me that I happen to be one of Bruce-Errington's +oldest friends--otherwise I might have passed him over in some way-- +as it is I can't. But fancy having to meet a great coarse peasant +woman, who, I'm certain, will only be able to talk about fish and +whale-oil! It is really QUITE dreadful!" + +Mr. Rush-Marvelle permitted himself to smile faintly. + +"Let us hope she will not turn out so badly," he said soothingly,--" +but, you know, if she proves to be--er--a common person of,--er--a +very uneducated type--you can always let her drop gently--quite +gently!" + +And he waved his skinny hand with an explanatory flourish. + +But Mrs. Marvelle did not accept his suggestion in good part. + +"You know nothing about it," she said somewhat testily. "Keep to +your own business, Montague, such as it is. The law suits your +particular form of brain--society does not. You would never be in +society at all if it were not for me--now you know you wouldn't!" + +"My love," said Mr. Marvelle, with a look of meek admiration at his +wife's majestic proportions. "I am aware of it! I always do you +justice. You are a remarkable woman!" + +Mrs. Marvelle smiled, somewhat mollified. "You see," she then +condescended to explain--"the whole thing is so extremely +disappointing to me. I wanted Marcia Van Clupp to go in for the +Errington stakes,--it would have been such an excellent match,-- +money on both sides. And Marcia would have been just the girl to +look after that place down in Warwickshire--the house is going to +rack and ruin, in MY opinion." + +"Ah, yes!" agreed her husband mildly. "Van Clupp is a fine girl--a +very fine girl! No end of 'go' in her. And so Errington Manor needs +a good deal of repairing, perhaps?" This query was put by Mr. +Marvelle, with his head very much on one side, and his bilious eyes +blinking drowsily. + +"I don't know about repairs," replied Mrs. Marvelle. "It is a +magnificent place, and certainly the grounds are ravishing. But one +of the best rooms in the house, is the former Lady Errington's +boudoir--it is full of old-fashioned dirty furniture, and Bruce- +Errington won't have it touched,--he will insist on keeping it as +his mother left it. Now that is ridiculous--perfectly morbid! It's +just the same thing with his father's library--he won't have that +touched either--and the ceiling wants fresh paint, and the windows +want new curtains--and all sorts of things ought to be done. Marcia +would have managed all that splendidly--she'd have had everything +new throughout--Americans are so quick, and there's no nonsensical +antiquated sentiment about Marcia." + +"She might even have had new pictures and done away with the old +ones," observed Mr. Marvelle, with a feeble attempt at satire. His +wife darted a keen look at him, but smiled a little too. She was not +without a sense of humor. + +"Nonsense, Montague! She knows the value of works of art better than +many a so-called connoisseur. I won't have you make fun of her. Poor +girl! She DID speculate on Bruce-Errington,--you know he was very +attentive to her, at that ball I gave just before he went off to +Norway." + +"He certainly seemed rather amused by her," said Mr. Marvelle. "Did +she take it to heart when she heard he was married?" + +"I should think not," replied Mrs. Marvelle loftily. "She has too +much sense. She merely said, 'All right! I must stick to +Masherville!'" + +Mr. Marvelle nodded blandly. "Admirable,--admirable!" he murmured, +with a soft little laugh, "A very clever girl--a very bright +creature! And really there are worse fellows than Masherville! The +title is old." + +"Yes, the title is all very well," retorted his wife--"but there's +no money--or at least very little." + +"Marcia has sufficient to cover any deficit?" suggested Mr. +Marvelle, in a tone of meek inquiry. + +"An American woman never has sufficient," declared Mrs. Marvelle. +"You know that as well as I do. And poor dear Mrs. Van Clupp has so +set her heart on a really brilliant match for her girl--and I had +positively promised she should have Bruce-Errington. It is really +too bad!" And Mrs. Marvelle paced the room with a stately, sweeping +movement, pausing every now and then to glance at herself +approvingly in the mirror above the chimney-piece, while her husband +resumed his perusal of the Times. By-and-by she said abruptly-- + +"Montague!" + +Mr. Marvelle dropped his paper with an alarmed air. + +"My dear!" + +"I shall go to Clara Winsleigh this morning--and see what she means +to do in the matter. Poor Clara! She must be disgusted at the whole +affair!" + +"She had rather a liking for Errington, hadn't she?" inquired Mr. +Marvelle, folding up the Times in a neat parcel, preparatory to +taking it with him in order to read it in peace on his way to the +Law Courts. + +"Liking? Well!" And Mrs. Marvelle, looking at herself once more in +the glass, carefully arranged the ruffle of Honiton lace about her +massive throat,--"It was a little more than liking--though, of +course, her feelings were perfectly proper, and all that sort of +thing,--at least, I suppose they were! She had a great friendship +for him,--one of those emotional, perfectly spiritual and innocent +attachments, I believe, which are so rare in this wicked world." +Mrs. Marvelle sighed, then suddenly becoming practical again, she +continued. "Yes, I shall go there and stop to luncheon, and talk +this thing over. Then I'll drive on to the Van Clupps, and bring +Marcia home to dinner. I suppose you don't object?" + +"Object!" Mr. Marvelle made a deprecatory gesture, and raised his +eyes in wonder. As if he dared object to anything whatsoever that +his wife desired! + +She smiled graciously as he approached, and respectfully kissed her +smooth cool cheek, before taking his departure for his daily work as +a lawyer in the city, and when he was gone, she betook herself to +her own small boudoir, where she busied herself for more than an +hour in writing letters, and answering invitations. + + She was, in her own line, a person of importance. She made it her +business to know everything and everybody--she was fond of meddling +with other people's domestic concerns, and she had a finger in every +family pie. She was, moreover, a regular match-maker,--fond of +taking young ladies under her maternal wing, and "introducing" them +to the proper quarters, and when, as was often the case, a +distinguished American of many dollars but no influence offered her +three or four hundred guineas for chaperoning his daughter into +English society and marrying her well, Mrs. Rush-Marvelle pocketed +the douceur quite gracefully, and did her best for the girl. She was +a good-looking woman, tall, portly, and with an air of distinction +about her, though her features were by no means striking, and the +smallness of her nose was out of all proportion to the majesty of +her form--but she had a very charming smile, and a pleasant, taking +manner, and she was universally admired in that particular "set" +wherein she moved. Girls adored her, and wrote her gushing letters, +full of the most dulcet flatteries--married ladies on the verge of a +scandal came to her to help them out of their difficulties--old +dowagers, troubled with rheumatism or refractory daughters, poured +their troubles into her sympathizing ears--in short, her hands were +full of other people's business to such an extent that she had +scarcely any leisure to attend to her own. Mr. Rush-Marvelle,--but +why describe this gentleman at all? He was a mere nonentity--known +simply as the husband of Mrs. Rush-Marvelle. He knew he was nobody-- +and, unlike many men placed in a similar position, he was satisfied +with his lot. He admired his wife intensely, and never failed to +flatter her vanity to the utmost excess, so that, on the whole, they +were excellent friends, and agreed much better than most married +people. + +It was about twelve o'clock in the day, when Mrs. Rush-Marvelle's +neat little brougham and pair stopped at Lord Winsleigh's great +house in Park Lane. A gorgeous flunkey threw open the door with a +virtuously severe expression on his breakfast-flushed countenance,-- +an expression which relaxed into a smile of condescension on seeing +who the visitor was. + +"I suppose Lady Winsleigh is at home, Briggs?" inquired Mrs. +Marvelle, with the air of one familiar with the ways of the +household. + +"Yes'm," replied Briggs slowly, taking in the "style" of Mrs. Rush- +Marvelle's bonnet, and mentally calculating its cost. "Her ladyship +is in the boo-dwar." + +"I'll go there," said Mrs. Marvelle, stepping into the hall, and +beginning to walk across it, in her own important and self-assertive +manner. "You needn't announce me." + +Briggs closed the street-door, settled his powdered wig, and looked +after her meditatively. Then he shut up one eye in a sufficiently +laborious manner and grinned. After this he retired slowly to a +small ante-room, where he found the World with its leaves uncut. +Taking up his master's ivory paper-knife, he proceeded to remedy +this slight inconvenience,--and, yawning heavily, he seated himself +in a velvet arm-chair, and was soon absorbed in perusing the pages +of the journal in question. + +Meanwhile Mrs. Marvelle, in her way across the great hall to the +"boo-dwar," had been interrupted and nearly knocked down by the +playful embrace of a handsome boy, who sprang out upon her suddenly +with a shout of laughter,--a boy of about twelve years old, with +frank, bright blue eyes and clustering dark curls. + +"Hullo, Mimsey!" cried this young gentleman-"here you are again! Do +you want to see papa? Papa's in there!"--pointing to the door from +which he had emerged--"he's correcting my Latin exercise. Five good +marks to-day, and I'm going to the circus this afternoon! Isn't it +jolly?" + +"Dear me, Ernest!" exclaimed Mrs. Marvelle half crossly, yet with an +indulgent smile,--"I wish you would not be so boisterous! You've +nearly knocked my bonnet off." + +"No, I haven't," laughed Ernest; "it's as straight as--wait a bit!" +And waving a lead pencil in the air, he drew an imaginary stroke +with it. "The middle feather is bobbing up and down just on a line +with your nose--it couldn't be better!" + +"There, go along, you silly boy!" said Mrs. Marvelle, amused in +spite of herself. "Get back to your lessons. There'll be no circus +for you if you don't behave properly! I'm going to see your mother." + +"Mamma's reading," announced Ernest. "Mudie's cart has just been and +brought a lot of new novels. Mamma wants to finish them all before +night. I say, are you going to stop to lunch?" + +"Ernest, why are you making such a noise in the passage?" said a +gentle, grave voice at this juncture. "I am waiting for you, you +know. You haven't finished your work yet. Ah, Mrs. Marvelle! How do +you do?" + +And Lord Winsleigh came forward and shook hands. "You will find her +ladyship in, I believe. She will be delighted to see you. This young +scapegrace," here he caressed his son's clustering curls tenderly-- +"has not yet done with his lessons--the idea of the circus to-day +seems to have turned his head." + +"Papa, you promised you'd let me off Virgil this morning!" cried +Ernest, slipping his arm coaxingly through his father's. Lord +Winsleigh smiled. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle shook her head with a sort of +mild reproachfulness. + +"He really ought to go to school," she said, feigning severity. "You +will find him too much for you, Winsleigh, in a little while." + +"I think not," replied Lord Winsleigh, though an anxious look +troubled for an instant the calm of his deep-set grey eyes. "We get +on very well together, don't we, Ernest?" The boy glanced up fondly +at his father's face and nodded emphatically. "At a public-school, +you see, the boys are educated on hard and fast lines--all ground +down to one pattern,--there's no chance of any originality possible. +But don't let me detain you, Mrs. Marvelle--you have no doubt much +to say to Lady Winsleigh. Come, Ernest! If I let you off Virgil, you +must do the rest of your work thoroughly." + +And with a courteous salute, the grave, kindly-faced nobleman re- +entered his library, his young son clinging to his arm and pouring +forth boyish confidences, which seemingly received instant attention +and sympathy,--while Mrs. Rush-Marvelle looked after their +retreating figures with something of doubt and wonder on her placid +features. But whatever her thoughts, they were not made manifest +just then. Arriving at a door draped richly with old-gold plush and +satin, she knocked. + +"Come in!" cried a voice that, though sweet in tone, was also +somewhat petulant. + +Mrs. Marvelle at once entered, and the occupant of the room sprang +up in haste from her luxurious reading-chair, where she was having +her long tresses brushed out by a prim-looking maid, and uttered an +exclamation of delight. + +"My dearest Mimsey!" she cried, "this is quite too sweet of you! +You're just the very person I wanted to see!" And she drew an easy +fauteuil to the sparkling fire,--for the weather was cold, with that +particularly cruel coldness common to an English May,--and dismissed +her attendant. "Now sit down, you dear old darling," she continued, +"and let me have all the news!" + +Throwing herself back on her lounge, she laughed, and tossed her +waving hair loose over her shoulders, as the maid had left it,--then +she arranged, with a coquettish touch here and there, the folds of +her pale pink dressing-gown, showered with delicate Valenciennes. +She was undeniably a lovely woman. Tall and elegantly formed, with +an almost regal grace of manner, Clara, Lady Winsleigh, deserved to +be considered, as she was, one of the reigning beauties of the day. +Her full dark eyes were of a bewitching and dangerous softness,--her +complexion was pale, but of such a creamy, transparent pallor as to +be almost brilliant,--her mouth was small and exquisitely shaped. +True,--her long eyelashes were not altogether innocent of "kohl,"-- +true, there was a faint odor about her as of rare perfumes and +cosmetics,--true, there was something not altogether sincere or +natural even in her ravishing smile and fascinating ways--but few, +save cynics, could reasonably dispute her physical perfections, or +question the right she had to tempt and arouse the passions of men, +or to trample underfoot? with an air of insolent superiority, the +feelings of women less fair and fortunate. Most of her sex envied +her,--but Mrs. Rush-Marvelle, who was past the prime of life, and, +who, moreover, gained her social successes through intelligence and +tact alone, was far too sensible to grudge any woman her beauty. On +the contrary, she was a frank admirer of handsome persons, and she +surveyed Lady Winsleigh now through her glasses with a smile of +bland approval. + +"You are looking very well, Clara," she said. "Let me see--you went +to Kissingen in the summer, didn't you?" + +"Of course I did," laughed her ladyship. "It was delicious! I +suppose you know Lennie came after me there! Wasn't it ridiculous!" + +Mrs. Marvelle coughed dubiously. "Didn't Winsleigh put in an +appearance at all?" she asked. + +Lady Clara's brow clouded. "Oh yes! For a couple of weeks or so. +Ernest came with him, of course, and they rambled about together all +the time. The boy enjoyed it." + +"I remember now," said Mrs. Marvelle. "But I've not seen anything of +you since you came back, Clara, except once in the park and once at +the theatre. You've been all the time at Winsleigh Court--by-the-by, +was Sir Francis Lennox there too?" + +"Why, naturally!" replied the beauty, with a cool smile. "He follows +me everywhere like a dog! Poor Lennie!" + +Again the elder lady coughed significantly. + +Clara Winsleigh broke into a ringing peal of laughter, and rising +from her lounge, knelt beside her visitor in a very pretty coaxing +attitude. + +"Come, Mimsey!" she said, "you are not going to be proper at this +time of day! That would be a joke! Darling, indulgent, good old +Mimsey!--you don't mean to turn into a prim, prosy, cross Mrs. +Grundy! I won't believe it! And you mustn't be severe on poor +Lennie--he's such a docile, good boy, and really not bad-looking!" + +Mrs. Marvelle fidgeted a little on her chair. "I don't want to talk +about LENNIE, as you call him," she said, rather testily--"Only I +think you'd better be careful how far you go with him. I came to +consult you on something quite different. What are you going to do +about the Bruce-Errington business? You know it was in the Post to- +day that they've arrived in town. The idea of Sir Philip bringing +his common wife into society!--It's too ridiculous!" + +Lady Winsleigh sprang to her feet, and her eyes flashed +disdainfully. + +"What am I going to do?" she repeated, in accents of bitter +contempt. "Why, receive them, of course! It will be the greatest +punishment Bruce-Errington can have! I'll get all the best people +here that I know--and he shall bring his peasant woman among them, +and blush for her! It will be the greatest fun out! Fancy a +Norwegian farmer's girl lumbering along with her great feet and red +hands!. . . and, perhaps, not knowing whether to eat an ice with a +spoon or with her fingers! I tell you Bruce-Errington will be ready +to die for shame--and serve him right too!" + +Mrs. Marvelle was rather startled at the harsh, derisive laughter +with which her ladyship concluded her excited observations, but she +merely observed mildly-- + +"Well, then, you will leave cards?" + +"Certainly?" + +"Very good--so shall I," and Mrs. Marvelle sighed resignedly. "What +must be, must be! But it's really dreadful to think of it all--I +would never have believed Philip Errington could have so disgraced +himself!" + +"He is no gentleman!" said Lady Winsleigh freezingly. "He has low +tastes and low desires. He and his friend Lorimer are two CADS, in +my opinion!" + +"Clara!" exclaimed Mrs. Marvelle warningly. "You were fond of him +once!--now, don't deny it!" + +"Why should I deny it?" and her ladyship's dark eyes blazed with +concentrated fury. "I loved him! There! I would have done anything +for him! He might have trodden me down under his feet! He knew it +well enough--cold, cruel, heartless cynic as he was and is! Yes, I +loved him!--but I HATE him now!" + +And she stamped her foot to give emphasis to her wild words. Mrs. +Marvelle raised her hands and eyes in utter amazement. + +"Clara, Clara! Pray, pray be careful! Suppose any one else heard you +going on in this manner! Your reputation would suffer, I assure you! +Really, you're horribly reckless! Just think of your husband--" + +"My husband!" and a cold gleam of satire played round Lady +Winsleigh's proud mouth. She paused and laughed a little. Then she +resumed in her old careless way--"You must be getting very goody- +goody, Mimsey, to talk to me about my husband! Why don't you read me +a lecture on the duties of wives and the education of children? I am +sure you know how profoundly it would interest me!" + +She paced up and down the room slowly while Mrs. Marvelle remained +discreetly silent. Presently there came a tap at the door, and the +gorgeous Briggs entered. He held himself like an automaton, and +spoke as though repeating a lesson. + +"His lordship's compliments, and will her la'ship lunch in the +dining-room to-day?" + +"No," said Lady Winsleigh curtly. "Luncheon for myself and Mrs. +Marvelle can be sent up here." + +Briggs still remained immovable. "His lordship wished to know if +Master Hernest was to come to your la'ship before goin' out?" + +"Certainly not!" and Lady Winsleigh's brows drew together in a +frown. "The boy is a perfect nuisance!" + +Briggs bowed and vanished. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle grew more and more +restless. She was a good-hearted woman, and there was something in +the nature of Clara Winsleigh that, in spite of her easy-going +conscience, she could not altogether approve of. + +"Do you never lunch with your husband, Clara?" she asked at last. + +Lady Winsleigh looked surprised. "Very seldom. Only when there is +company, and I am compelled to be present. A domestic meal would be +too ennuyant! I wonder you can think of such a thing! And we +generally dine out." + +Mrs. Marvelle was silent again, and, when she did speak, it was on a +less delicate matter. + +"When is your great 'crush,' Clara?" she inquired, "You sent me a +card, but I forget the date." + +"On the twenty-fifth," replied Lady Winsleigh." This is the +fifteenth. I shall call on Lady Bruce-Errington"--here she smiled +scornfully--"this afternoon--and to-morrow I shall send them their +invitations. My only fear is whether they mayn't refuse to come. I +would not miss the chance for the world! I want my house to be the +first in which her peasant-ladyship distinguishes herself by her +blunders!" + +"I'm afraid it'll be quite a scandal!" sighed Mrs. Rush-Marvelle. +"Quite! Such a pity! Bruce-Errington was such a promising, handsome +young man!" + +At that moment Briggs appeared again with an elegantly set luncheon- +tray, which he placed on the table with a flourish. + +"Order the carriage at half-past three," commanded Lady Winsleigh. +"And tell Mrs. Marvelle's coachman that he needn't wait,--I'll drive +her home myself." + +"But, my dear Clara," remonstrated Mrs. Marvelle, "I must call at +the Van Clupps'--" + +"I'll call there with you. I owe them a visit. Has Marcia caught +young Masherville yet?" + +"Well," hesitated Mrs. Marvelle, "he is rather slippery, you know-- +so undecided and wavering!" + +Lady Winsleigh laughed. "Never mind that! Marcia's a match for him! +Rather a taking girl--only WHAT an accent! My nerves are on edge +whenever I hear her speak." + +"It's a pity she can't conquer that defect," agreed Mrs. Marvelle. +"I know she has tried. But, after all, they're not the best sort of +Americans--" + +"The BEST sort! I should think not! But they're of the RICHEST sort, +and that's something, Mimsey! Besides, though everybody knows what +Van Clupp's father was, they make a good pretense at being well- +born,--they don't cram their low connections down your throat, as +Bruce-Errington wants to do with his common wife. They ignore all +their vulgar belongings delightfully! They've been cruelly 'cut' by +Mrs. Rippington--she's American--but, then, she's perfect style. Do +you remember that big 'at home' at the Van Clupp's when they had a +band to play in the back-yard, and everybody was deafened by the +noise? Wasn't it quite too ridiculous!" + +Lady Winsleigh laughed over this reminiscence, and then betook +herself to the consideration of lunch,--a tasty meal which both she +and Mrs. Marvelle evidently enjoyed, flavored as it was with the +high spice of scandal concerning their most immediate and mutual +friends, who were, after much interesting discussion, one by one +condemned as of "questionable" repute, and uncertain position. Then +Lady Winsleigh summoned her maid, and was arrayed cap-a-pie in +"carriage-toilette," while Mrs. Marvelle amused herself by searching +the columns of Truth for some new tit-bit of immorality connected +with the royalty or nobility of England. And at half-past three +precisely, the two ladies drove off together in an elegant victoria +drawn by a dashing pair of greys, with a respectably apoplectic +coachman on the box, supported by the stately Briggs, in all the +glory of the olive-green and gold liveries which distinguished the +Winsleigh equipage. By her ladyship's desire, they were driven +straight to Prince's Gate. + +"We may as well leave our cards together," said Clara, with a +malicious little smile, "though I hope to goodness the creature +won't be at home." + +Bruce-Errington's town-house was a very noble-looking mansion-- +refined and simple in outer adornment, with a broad entrance, deep +portico, and lofty windows--windows which fortunately were not +spoilt by gaudy hangings of silk or satin in "aesthetic" colors. The +blinds were white--and, what could be seen of the curtains from the +outside, suggested the richness of falling velvets, and gold-woven +tapestries. The drawing-room balconies were full of brilliant +flowers, shaded by quaint awnings of Oriental pattern, thus giving +the place an air of pleasant occupation and tasteful elegance. + +Lady Winsleigh's carriage drew up at the door, and Briggs descended. + +"Inquire if Lady Bruce-Errington is at home," said his mistress. +"And if not, leave these cards." + +Briggs received the scented glossy bits of pasteboard in his yellow- +gloved hand with due gravity, and rang the bell marked "Visitors" in +his usual ponderous manner, with a force that sent it clanging +loudly through the corridors of the stately mansion. The door was +instantly opened by a respectable man with grey hair and a gentle, +kindly face, who was dressed plainly in black, and who eyed the +gorgeous Briggs with the faintest suspicion of a smile. He was +Errington's butler, and had served the family for twenty-five years. + +"Her ladyship is driving in the Park," he said in response to the +condescending inquiries of Briggs. "She left the house about half an +hour ago." + +Briggs thereupon handed in the cards, and forthwith reported the +result of his interview to Lady Winsleigh, who said with some +excitement-- + +"Turn into the Park and drive up and down till I give further +orders." + +Briggs mutely touched his hat, mounted the box, and the carriage +rapidly bowled in the required direction, while Lady Winsleigh +remarked laughingly to Mrs. Marvelle-- + +"Philip is sure to be with his treasure! If we can catch a glimpse +of her, sitting, staring open-mouthed at everything, it will be +amusing! We shall then know what to expect." + +Mrs. Marvelle said nothing, though she too was more or less curious +to see the "peasant" addition to the circle of fashionable society,- +-and when they entered the Park, both she and Lady Winsleigh kept a +sharp look-out for the first glimpse of the quiet grey and silver of +the Bruce-Errington liveries. They watched, however, in vain--it was +not yet the hour for the crowding of the Row--and there was not a +sign of the particular equipage they were so desirous to meet. +Presently Lady Winsleigh's face flushed--she laughed, and bade her +coachman come to a halt. + +"It is only Lennie," she said in answer to Mrs. Marvelle's look of +inquiry. "I MUST speak to him a moment!" + +And she beckoned coquettishly to a slight, slim young man with a +dark moustache and rather handsome features, who was idling along on +the footpath, apparently absorbed in a reverie, though it was not of +so deep a character that he failed to be aware of her ladyship's +presence--in fact he had seen her as soon as she appeared in the +Park. He saw everything apparently without looking--he had lazily +drooping eyes, but a swift under-glance which missed no detail of +whatever was going on. He approached now with an excessively languid +air, raising his hat slowly, as though the action bored him. + +"How do, Mrs. Marvelle!" he drawled lazily, addressing himself first +to the elder lady, who responded somewhat curtly,--then leaning his +arms on the carriage door, he fixed Lady Winsleigh with a sleepy +stare of admiration. "And how is our Clara? Looking charming, as +usual! By Jove! Why weren't you here ten minutes ago? You never saw +such a sight in your life! Thought the whole Row was going crazy, +'pon my soul!" + +"Why, what happened?" asked Lady Winsleigh, smiling graciously upon +him. "Anything extraordinary?" + +"Well, I don't know what you'd call extraordinary;" and Sir Francis +Lennox yawned and examined the handle of his cane attentively. "I +suppose if Helen of Troy came driving full pelt down the Row all of +a sudden, there'd be some slight sensation!" + +"Dear me!" said Clara Winsleigh pettishly. "You talk in enigmas to- +day. What on earth do you mean?" + +Sir Francis condescended to smile. "Don't be waxy, Clara!" he urged- +-"I mean what I say--a new Helen appeared here to-day, and instead +of 'tall Troy' being on fire, as Dante Rossetti puts it, the Row was +in a burning condition of excitement--fellows on horseback galloped +the whole length of the Park to take a last glimpse of her--her +carriage dashed off to Richmond after taking only four turns. She is +simply magnificent!" + +"Who is she?" and in spite of herself, Lady Winsleigh's smile +vanished and her lips quivered. + +"Lady Bruce-Errington," answered Sir Francis readily. "The loveliest +woman in the world, I should say! Phil was beside her--he looks in +splendid condition--and that meek old secretary fellow sat opposite- +-Neville--isn't that his name? Anyhow they seemed as jolly as +pipers,--as for that woman, she'll drive everybody out of their wits +about her before half the season's over." + +"But she's a mere peasant!" said Mrs. Marvelle loftily. "Entirely +uneducated--a low, common creature!" + +"Ah, indeed!" and Sir Francis again yawned extensively. "Well, I +don't know anything about that! She was exquisitely dressed, and she +held herself like a queen. As for her hair--I never saw such +wonderful hair,--there's every shade of gold in it." + +"Dyed!" said Lady Winsleigh, with a sarcastic little laugh. "She's +been in Paris,--I dare say a good coiffeur has done it for her there +artistically!" + +This time Sir Francis's smile was a thoroughly amused one. + +"Commend me to a woman for spite!" he said carelessly. "But I'll not +presume to contradict you, Clara! You know best, I dare say! Ta-ta! +I'll come for you to-night,--you know we're bound for the theatre +together. By-bye, Mrs. Marvelle! You look younger than ever!" + +And Sir Francis Lennox sauntered easily away, leaving the ladies to +resume their journey through the Park. Lady Winsleigh looked vexed-- +Mrs. Marvelle bewildered. + +"Do you think," inquired this latter, "she can really be so +wonderfully lovely?" + +"No, I don't!" answered Clara snappishly. "I dare say she's a plump +creature with a high color--men like fat women with brick-tinted +complexions--they think it's healthy. Helen of Troy indeed! Pooh! +Lennie must be crazy." + +The rest of their drive was very silent,-they were both absorbed in +their own reflections. On arriving at the Van Clupps', they found no +one at home--not even Marcia--so Lady Winsleigh drove her "dearest +Mimsey" back to her own house in Kensington, and there left her with +many expressions of tender endearment--then, returning home, +proceeded to make an elaborate and brilliant toilette for the +enchantment and edification of Sir Francis Lennox that evening. She +dined alone, and was ready for her admirer when he called for her in +his private hansom, and drove away with him to the theatre, where +she was the cynosure of many eyes; meanwhile her husband, Lord +Winsleigh, was pressing a good-night kiss on the heated forehead of +an excited boy, who, plunging about in his little bed and laughing +heartily, was evidently desirous of emulating the gambols of the +clown who had delighted him that afternoon at Hengler's. + +"Papa! could you stand on your head and shake hands with your foot?" +demanded this young rogue, confronting his father with towzled curls +and flushed cheeks. + +Lord Winsleigh laughed. "Really, Ernest, I don't think I could!" he +answered good-naturedly. "Haven't you talked enough about the circus +by this time? I thought you were ready for sleep, otherwise I should +not have come up to say good-night." + +Ernest studied the patient, kind features of his father for a +moment, and then slipped penitently under the bedclothes, settling +his restless young head determinedly on the pillow. + +"I'm all right now!" he murmured, with a demure, dimpling smile. +Then, with a tender upward twinkle of his merry blue eyes, he added, +"Good-night, papa dear! God bless you!" + +A sort of wistful pathos softened the grave lines of Lord +Winsleigh's countenance as he bent once more over the little bed, +and pressed his bearded lips lightly on the boy's fresh cheek, as +cool and soft as a rose-leaf. + +"God bless you, little man!" he answered softly, and there was a +slight quiver in his calm voice. Then he put out the light and left +the room, closing the door after him with careful noiselessness. +Descending the broad stairs slowly, his face changed from its late +look of tenderness to one of stern and patient coldness, which was +evidently its habitual expression. He addressed himself to Briggs, +who was lounging aimlessly in the hall. + +"Her ladyship is out?" + +"Yes, my lord! Gone to the theayter with Sir Francis Lennox." + +Lord Winsleigh turned upon him sharply. "I did not ask you, Briggs, +WHERE she had gone, or WHO accompanied her. Have the goodness to +answer my questions simply, without adding useless and unnecessary +details." + +Briggs's mouth opened a little in amazement at his master's +peremptory tone, but he answered promptly-- + +"Very good, my lord!" + +Lord Winsleigh paused a moment, and seemed to consider. Then he +said-- + +"See that her ladyship's supper is prepared in the dining-room. She +will most probably return rather late. Should she inquire for me, +say I am at the Carlton." + +Again Briggs responded, "Very good, my lord!" And, like an exemplary +servant as he was, he lingered about the passage while Lord +Winsleigh entered his library, and, after remaining there some ten +minutes or so, came out again in hat and great coat. The officious +Briggs handed him his cane, and inquired-- + +"'Ansom, my lord?" + +"Thanks, no. I will walk." + +It was a fine moonlight night, and Briggs stood for some minutes on +the steps, airing his shapely calves and watching the tall, +dignified figure of his master walking, with the upright, stately +bearing which always distinguished him, in the direction of Pall +Mall. Park Lane was full of crowding carriages with twinkling +lights, all bound to the different sources of so-called "pleasure" +by which the opening of the season is distinguished. Briggs surveyed +the scene with lofty indifference, sniffed the cool breeze, and, +finding it somewhat chilly, re-entered the house and descended to +the servant's hall. Here all the domestics of the Winsleigh +household were seated at a large table loaded with hot and savory +viands,--a table presided over by a robust and perspiring lady, with +a very red face and sturdy arms bare to the elbow. + +"Lor', Mr. Briggs!" cried this personage, rising respectfully as he +approached, "'ow late you are! Wot 'ave you been a-doin' on? 'Ere +I've been a-keepin' your lamb-chops and truffles 'ot all this time, +and if they's dried up 'taint my fault, nor that of the hoven, which +is as good a hoven as you can wish to bake in. . . ." + +She paused breathless, and Briggs smiled blandly. + +"Now, Flopsie!" he said in a tone of gentle severity. "Excited +again--as usual! It's bad for your 'elth--very bad! HIF the chops is +dried, your course is plain--cook some more! Not that I am enny ways +particular--but chippy meat is bad for a delicate digestion. And you +would not make me hill, my Flopsie, would you?" + +Whereupon he seated himself, and looked condescendingly round the +table. He was too great a personage to be familiar with such +inferior creatures as housemaids, scullery-girls, and menials of +that class,--he was only on intimate terms with the cook, Mrs. +Flopper, or, as he called her, "Flopsie,"--the coachman, and Lady +Winsleigh's own maid, Louise Renaud, a prim, sallow-faced +Frenchwoman, who, by reason of her nationality, was called by all +the inhabitants of the kitchen, "mamzelle," as being a name both +short, appropriate, and convenient. + +On careful examination, the lamb-chops turned out satisfactorily-- +"chippiness" was an epithet that could not justly be applied to +them,--and Mr. Briggs began to eat them leisurely, flavoring them +with a glass or two of fine port out of a decanter which he had +taken the precaution to bring down from the dining-room sideboard. + +"I HAM, late," he then graciously explained--"not that I was +detained in enny way by the people upstairs. The gay Clara went out +early, but I was absorbed in the evenin' papers--Winsleigh forgot to +ask me for them. But he'll see them at his club. He's gone there now +on foot-poor fellah!" + +"I suppose SHE'S with the same party?" grinned the fat Flopsie, as +she held a large piece of bacon dipped in vinegar on her fork, +preparatory to swallowing it with a gulp. + +Briggs nodded gravely, "The same! Not a fine man at all, you know-- +no leg to speak of, and therefore no form. Legs--GOOD legs--are +beauty. Now, Winsleigh's not bad in that particular,--and I dare say +Clara can hold her own,--but I wouldn't bet on little Francis." + + Flopsie shrieked with laughter till she had a "stitch in her side," +and was compelled to restrain her mirth. + +"Lor', Mr. Briggs!" she gasped, wiping the moisture from her eyes, +"you are a regular one, aren't you! Mussy on us, you ought to put +all wot you say in the papers--you'd make your fortin!" + +"Maybe, maybe, Flopsie," returned Briggs with due dignity. "I will +not deny that there may be wot is called 'sparkle' in my natur. And +'sparkle' is wot is rekwired in polite literatoor. Look at 'Hedmund' +and ''Enery!' Sparkle again,--read their magnificent productions, +the World and Truth,--all sparkle, every line! It is the secret of +success, Flospie--be a sparkler and you've got everything before +you." + +Louise Renaud looked across at him half-defiantly. Her prim, cruel +mouth hardened into a tight line. + +"To spark-el?" she said--"that is what we call etinceler--eclater. +Yes, I comprehend! Miladi is one spark-el! But one must be a very +good jewel to spark-el always--yes--yes--not a sham!" + +And she nodded a great many times, and ate her salad very fast. +Briggs surveyed her with much complacency. + +"You are a talented woman, Mamzelle," he said, "very talented! I +admire your ways--I really do!" + +Mamzelle smiled with a gratified air, and Briggs settled his wig, +eyeing her anew with fresh interest. + +"WOT a witness you would be in a divorce case!" he continued +enthusiastically. "You'd be in your helement!" + +"I should--I should indeed!" exclaimed Mamzelle, with sudden +excitement,--then as suddenly growing calm, she made a rapid gesture +with her hands--"But there will be no divorce. Milord Winsleigh is a +fool!" + +Briggs appeared doubtful about this, and meditated for a long time +over his third glass of port with the profound gravity of a +philosopher. + +"No, Mamzelle," he said at last, when he rose from the table to +return to his duties upstairs--"No! there I must differ from you. I +am a close observer. Wotever Winsleigh's faults,--and I do not deny +that they are many,--he is a gentleman-that I MUST admit--and with +HEVERY respect for you, Mamzelle--I can assure you he's no fool!" + +And with these words Briggs betook himself to the library to arrange +the reading-lamp and put the room in order for his master's return, +and as he did so, he paused to look at a fine photograph of Lady +Winsleigh that stood on the oak escritoire, opposite her husband's +arm-chair. + +"No," he muttered to himself. "Wotever he thinks of some goings-on, +he ain't blind nor deaf--that's certain. And I'd stake my character +and purfessional reputation on it--wotever he is, he's no fool!" + +For once in his life, Briggs was right. He was generally wrong in +his estimate of both persons and things--but it so happened on this +particular occasion that he had formed a perfectly correct judgment. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + + "Could you not drink her gaze like wine? + Yet in its splendor swoon + Into the silence languidly, + As a tune into a tune?" + + Dante Rossetti + +On the morning of the twenty-fifth of May, Thelma, Lady Bruce- +Errington, sat at breakfast with her husband in their sun-shiny +morning-room, fragrant with flowers and melodious with the low +piping of a tame thrush in a wild gilded cage, who had the sweet +habit of warbling his strophes to himself very softly now and then, +before venturing to give them full-voiced utterance. A bright-eyed, +feathered poet he was, and an exceeding favorite with his fair +mistress, who occasionally leaned back in her low chair to look at +him and murmur an encouraging "Sweet, sweet!" which caused the +speckled plumage on his plump breast to ruffle up with suppressed +emotion and gratitude. + +Philip was pretending to read the Times, but the huge, self- +important printed sheet had not the faintest interest for him,--his +eyes wandered over the top of its columns to the golden gleam of his +wife's hair, brightened just then by the sunlight streaming through +the window,--and finally he threw it down beside him with a laugh. + +"There's no news," he declared. "There never IS any news!" + +Thelma smiled, and her deep-blue eyes sparkled. + +"No?" she half inquired--then taking her husband's cup from his hand +to re-fill it with coffee, she added, "but I think you do not give +yourself time to find the news, Philip. You will never read the +papers more than five minutes." + +"My dear girl," said Philip gaily, "I am more conscientious than you +are, at any rate, for you never read them at all!" + +"Ah, but you must remember," she returned gravely, "that is because +I do not understand them! I am not clever. They seem to me to be all +about such dull things--unless there is some horrible murder or +cruelty or accident--and I would rather not hear of these. I do +prefer books always--because the books last, and news is never +certain--it may not even be true." + +Her husband looked at her fondly; his thoughts were evidently very +far away from newspapers and their contents. + +As she met his gaze, the rich color flushed her soft cheeks and her +eyes drooped shyly under their long lashes. Love, with her, had not +yet proved an illusion,--a bright toy to be snatched hastily and +played with for a brief while, and then thrown aside as broken and +worthless. It seemed to her a most marvellous and splendid gift of +God, increasing each day in worth and beauty,--widening upon her +soul and dazzling her life in ever new and expanding circles of +glory. She felt as if she could never sufficiently understand it,-- +the passionate adoration Philip lavished upon her, filled her with a +sort of innocent wonder and gratitude, while her own overpowering +love and worship of him, sometimes startled her by its force into a +sweet shame and hesitating fear. To her mind he was all that was +great, strong, noble, and beautiful--he was her master, her king,-- +and she loved to pay him homage by her exquisite humility, clinging +tenderness, and complete, contented submission. She was neither weak +nor timid,--her character, moulded on grand and simple lines of +duty, saw the laws of Nature in their true light, and accepted them +without question. It seemed to her quite clear that man was the +superior,--woman the inferior, creature--and she could not +understand the possibility of any wife not rendering instant and +implicit obedience to her husband, even in trifles. + +Since her wedding-day no dark cloud had crossed her heaven of +happiness, though she had been a little confused and bewildered at +first by the wealth and dainty luxury with which Sir Philip had +delighted to surround her. She had been married quietly at +Christiania, arrayed in one of her own simple white gowns, with no +ornament save a cluster of pale blush-roses, the gift of Lorimer. +The ceremony was witnessed by her father and Errington's friends,-- +and when it was concluded they had all gone on their several ways,-- +old Guldmar for a "toss" on the Bay of Biscay,--the yacht Eulalie, +with Lorimer, Macfarlane, and Duprez on board, back to England, +where these gentlemen had separated to their respective homes,-- +while Errington, with his beautiful bride, and Britta in demure and +delighted attendance on her, went straight to Copenhagen. From there +they travelled to Hamburg, and through Germany to the Schwarzwald, +where they spent their honeymoon at a quiet little hotel in the very +heart of the deep-green Forest. + +Days of delicious dreaming were these,--days of roaming on the +emerald green turf under the stately and odorous pines, listening to +the dash of the waterfalls, or watching the crimson sunset burning +redly through the darkness of the branches,--and in the moonlit +evenings sitting under the trees to hear the entrancing music of a +Hungarian string-band, which played divine and voluptuous melodies +of the land,--"lieder" and "walzer" that swung the heart away on a +golden thread of sound to a paradise too sweet to name! Days of high +ecstacy, and painfully passionate joy!--when "love, love!" +palpitated in the air, and struggled for utterance in the jubilant +throats of birds, and whispered wild suggestions in the rustling of +the leaves! There were times when Thelma,--lost and amazed and +overcome by the strength and sweetness of the nectar held to her +innocent lips by a smiling and flame-winged Eros,--would wonder +vaguely whether she lived indeed, or whether she were not dreaming +some gorgeous dream, too brilliant to last? And even when her +husband's arms most surely embraced her, and her husband's kiss met +hers in all the rapture of victorious tenderness, she would often +question herself as to whether she were worthy of such perfect +happiness, and she would pray in the depths of her pure heart to be +made more deserving of this great and wonderful gift of love--this +supreme joy, almost too vast for her comprehension. + +On the other hand, Errington's passion for his wife was equally +absorbing--she had become the very moving-spring of his existence. +His eyes delighted in her beauty,--but more than this, he revelled +in and reverenced the crystal-clear parity and exquisite refinement +of her soul. Life assumed for him a new form,--studied by the light +of Thelma's straightforward simplicity and intelligence, it was no +longer, as he had once been inclined to think, a mere empty +routine,--it was a treasure of inestimable value fraught with divine +meanings. Gradually, the touch of modern cynicism that had at one +time threatened to spoil his nature, dropped away from him like the +husk from an ear of corn,--the world arrayed itself in bright and +varying colors--there was good--nay, there was glory--in everything. + +With these ideas, and the healthy satisfaction they engendered, his +heart grew light and joyous,--his eyes more lustrous,--his step gay +and elastic,--and his whole appearance was that of man at his best,- +-man, as God most surely meant him to be--not a rebellious, feebly- +repining, sneering wretch, ready to scoff at the very sunlight,--but +a being both brave and intelligent, strong and equally balanced in +temperament, and not only contented, but absolutely glad to be +alive,--glad to feel the blood flowing through the veins,--glad and +grateful for the gifts of breathing and sight. + +As each day passed, the more close and perfect grew the sympathies +of husband and wife,--they were like two notes of a perfect chord, +sounding together in sweetest harmony. Naturally, much of this easy +and mutual blending of character and disposition arose from Thelma's +own gracious and graceful submissiveness,--submissiveness which, far +from humiliating her, actually placed her (though she knew it not) +on a throne of almost royal power, before which Sir Philip was +content to kneel--an ardent worshipper of her womanly sweetness. +Always without question or demur, she obeyed his wishes implicitly,- +-though, as has been before mentioned, she was at first a little +overpowered and startled by the evidences of his wealth, and did not +quite know what to do with all the luxuries and gifts he heaped upon +her. Britta's worldly prognostications had come true,--the simple +gowns her mistress had worn at the Altenfjord were soon discarded +for more costly apparel,--though Sir Philip had an affection for his +wife's Norwegian costumes, and in his heart thought they were as +pretty, if not prettier, than the most perfect triumphs of a +Parisian modiste. + +But is the social world, Fashion, the capricious deity, must be +followed, if not wholly, yet in part; and so Thelma's straight, +plain garments were laid carefully by as souvenirs of the old days, +and were replaced by toilettes of the most exquisite description,-- +some simple,--some costly,--and it was difficult to say in which of +them the lovely wearer looked her best. She herself was indifferent +in the matter--she dressed to please Philip,--if he was satisfied, +she was happy--she sought nothing further. It was Britta whose merry +eyes sparkled with pride and admiration when she saw her "Froken" +arrayed in gleaming silk or sweeping velvets, with the shine of rare +jewels in her rippling hair,--it was Britta who took care of all the +dainty trifles that gradually accumulated on Thelma's dressing +table,--in fact, Britta had become a very important personage in her +own opinion. Dressed neatly in black, with a coquettish muslin apron +and cap becomingly frilled, she was a very taking little maid, with +her demure rosy face and rebellious curls, though very different to +the usual trained spy whose officious ministrations are deemed so +necessary by ladies of position, whose lofty station in life +precludes them from the luxury of brushing their own hair. Britta's +duties were slight--she invented most of them--yet she was always +busy sewing, dusting, packing, or polishing. She was a very wide- +awake little person, too,--no hint was lost upon her,--and she held +her own wherever she went with her bright eyes and sharp tongue. +Though secretly in an unbounded state of astonishment at everything +new she saw, she was too wise to allow this to be noticed, and +feigned the utmost coolness and indifference, even when they went +from Germany to Paris, where the brilliancy and luxury of the shops +almost took away her breath for sheer wonderment. + +In Paris, Thelma's wardrobe was completed--a certain Madame Rosine, +famous for "artistic arrangements," was called into requisition, and +viewing with a professional eye the superb figure and majestic +carriage of her new customer, rose to the occasion in all her glory, +and resolved that Miladi Bruce-Errington's dresses should be the +wonder and envy of all who beheld them. + +"For," said Madame, with a grand air, "it is to do me justice. That +form so magnificent is worth draping,--it will support my work to +the best advantage. And persons without figures will hasten to me +and entreat me for costumes, and will think that if I dress them I +can make them look as well as Miladi. And they will pay!"--Madame +shook her head with much shrewdness--"Mon Dieu! they will pay!--and +that they still look frightful will not be my fault." + +And undoubtedly Madame surpassed her usual skill in all she did for +Thelma,--she took such pains, and was so successful in all her +designs, that "Miladi," who did not as a rule show more than a very +ordinary interest in her toilette, found it impossible not to admire +the artistic taste, harmonious coloring, and exquisite fit of the +few choice gowns supplied to her from the "Maison Rosine"--and only +on one occasion had she any discussion with the celebrated modiste. +This was when Madame herself, with much pride, brought home an +evening dress of the very palest and tenderest sea-green silk, +showered with pearls and embroidered in silver, a perfect chef- +d'oeuvre of the dress-maker's art. The skirt, with its billowy train +and peeping folds of delicate lace, pleased Thelma,--but she could +not understand the bodice, and she held that very small portion of +the costume in her hand with an air of doubt and wonderment. At last +she turned her grave blue eyes inquiringly on Madame. + +"It is not finished?" she asked. "Where is the upper part of it and +the sleeves?" + +Madame Rosine gesticulated with her hands and smiled. + +"Miladi, there is no more!" she declared. "Miladi will perceive it +is for the evening wear--it is decolletee--it is to show to +everybody Miladi's most beautiful white neck and arms. The effect +will be ravishing!" + +Thelma's face grew suddenly grave--almost stern. + +"You must be very wicked!" she said severely, to the infinite +amazement of the vivacious Rosine. "You think I would show myself to +people half clothed? How is it possible! I would not so disgrace +myself! It would bring shame to my husband!" + +Madame was almost speechless with surprise. What strange lady was +this who was so dazzlingly beautiful and graceful, and yet so +ignorant of the world's ways? She stared,--but was soon on the +defensive. + +"Miladi is in a little error!" she said rapidly and with soft +persuasiveness. "It is la mode. Miladi has perhaps lived in a +country where the fashions are different. But if she will ask the +most amiable Sieur Bruce-Errington, she will find that her dress is +quite in keeping with les convenances." + +A pained blush crimsoned Thelma's fair cheek. "I do not like to ask +my husband such a thing," she said slowly, "but I must. For I could +not wear this dress without shame. I cannot think he would wish me +to appear in it as you have made it--but--" She paused, and taking +up the objectionable bodice, she added gently--"You will kindly wait +here, madame, and I will see what Sir Philip says." + +And she retired, leaving the modiste in a state of much +astonishment, approaching resentment. The idea was outrageous,--a +woman with such divinely fair skin,--a woman with the bosom of a +Venus, and arms of a shape to make sculptors rave,--and yet she +actually wished to hide these beauties from the public gaze! It was +ridiculous--utterly ridiculous,--and Madame sat fuming impatiently, +and sniffing the air in wonder and scorn. Meanwhile Thelma, with +flushing cheeks and lowered eyes, confided her difficulty to Philip, +who surveyed the shocking little bodice she brought for his +inspection with a gravely amused, but very tender smile. + +"There certainly doesn't seem much of it, does there, darling?" he +said. "And so you don't like it?" + +"No," she confessed frankly--"I think I should feel quite undressed +in it. I often wear just a little opening at the throat--but this--! +Still, Philip, I must not displease you--and I will always wear what +you wish, even if it is uncomfortable to myself." + +"Look here, my pet," and he encircled her waist fondly with his arm, +"Rosine is quite right. The thing's perfectly fashionable,--and +there isn't a woman in society who wouldn't be perfectly charmed +with it. But your ideas are better than Rosine's and all society's +put together. Obey your own womanly instinct, Thelma!" + +"But what do YOU wish?" she asked earnestly. "You must tell me. It +is to please you that I live." + +He kissed her. "You want me to issue a command about the affair?" he +said half laughingly. + +She smiled up into his eyes. "Yes!--and I will obey!" + +"Very well! Now listen!" and he held her by both hands, and looked +with sudden gravity into her sweet face--"Thelma, my wife, thus +sayeth your lord and master,--despise the vulgar indecencies of +fashion, and you will gratify me more than words can say;--keep your +pure and beautiful self sacred from the profaning gaze of the +multitude,--sacred to me and my love for you, and I shall be the +proudest man living! Finally,"--and he smiled again--"give Rosine +back this effort at a bodice, and tell her to make something more in +keeping with the laws of health and modesty. And Thelma--one more +kiss! You are a darling!" + +She laughed softly and left him, returning at once to the irate +dressmaker who waited for her. + +"I am sorry," she said very sweetly, "to have called you wicked! You +see, I did not understand! But though this style of dress is +fashionable, I do not wish to wear it--so you will please make me +another bodice, with a small open square at the throat, and elbow- +sleeves,--and you will lose nothing at all--for I shall pay you for +this one just the same. And you must quite pardon me for my mistake +and hasty words!" + +Maladi's manner was so gracious and winning, that Madame Rosine +found it impossible not to smile in a soothed and mollified way,-- +and though she deeply regretted that so beautiful a neck and arms +were not to be exposed to public criticism, she resigned herself to +the inevitable, and took away the offending bodice, replacing it in +a couple of days by one much prettier and more becoming by reason of +its perfect modesty. + +On leaving Paris, Sir Philip had taken his wife straight home to his +fine old Manor in Warwickshire. Thelma's delight in her new abode +was unbounded--the stately oaks that surrounded it,--the rose- +gardens, the conservatories,--the grand rooms, with their fine +tapestries, oak furniture, and rare pictures,--the splendid library, +the long, lofty drawing-rooms, furnished and decorated after the +style of Louis Quinze,--all filled her with a tender pride and +wistful admiration. This was Philip's home! and she was here to make +it bright and glad for him!--she could imagine no fairer fate. The +old servants of the place welcomed their new mistress with marked +respect and evident astonishment at her beauty, though, when they +knew her better, they marvelled still more at her exceeding +gentleness and courtesy. The housekeeper, a stately white-haired +dame, who had served the former Lady Errington, declared she was "an +angel"--while the butler swore profoundly that "he knew what a queen +was like at last!" + +The whole household was pervaded with an affectionate eagerness to +please her, though, perhaps, the one most dazzled by her entrancing +smile and sweet consideration for his comfort was Edward Neville, +Sir Philip's private secretary and librarian,--a meek, mild-featured +man of some five and forty years old, whose stooping shoulders, +grizzled hair, and weak eyes gave him an appearance of much greater +age. Thelma was particularly kind to Neville, having heard his +history from her husband. It was brief and sad. He had married a +pretty young girl whom he had found earning a bare subsistence as a +singer in provincial music-halls,--loving her, he had pitied her +unprotected state, and had rescued her from the life she led--but +after six months of comparative happiness, she had suddenly deserted +him, leaving no clue as to where or why she had gone. His grief for +her loss, weighed heavily upon his mind--he brooded incessantly upon +it--and though his profession was that of a music master and +organist, he grew so abstracted and inattentive to the claims of the +few pupils he had, that they fell away from him one by one--and, +after a bit, he lost his post as organist to the village church as +well. This smote him deeply, for he was passionately fond of music, +and was, moreover, a fine player,--and it was at this stage of his +misfortunes that he met by chance Bruce-Errington. Philip, just +then, was almost broken-hearted--his father and mother had died +suddenly within a week of one another,--and he, finding the blank +desolation of his home unbearable, was anxious to travel abroad for +a time, so soon as he could find some responsible person in whose +hands to leave the charge of the Manor, with its invaluable books +and pictures, during his absence. + +Hearing Neville's history through a mutual friend, he decided, with +his usual characteristic impulse, that here was the very man for +him--a gentleman by birth, rumored to be an excellent scholar,--and +he at once offered him the post he had in view,--that of private +secretary at a salary of 200 pounds per annum. The astonished +Neville could not at first believe in his good fortune, and began to +stammer forth his gratitude with trembling lips and moistening +eyes,--but Errington cut him short by declaring the whole thing +settled, and desiring him to enter on his duties at once. He was +forthwith installed in his position,--a highly enviable one for a +man of his dreamy and meditative turn of mind. To him, literature +and music were precious as air and light, he handled the rare +volumes on the Errington book-shelves with lingering tenderness, and +often pored over some difficult manuscript, or dusty folio till long +past midnight, almost forgetful of his griefs in the enchantment +thus engendered. Nor did he lack his supreme comforter, music,-- +there was a fine organ at the lower end of the long library, and +seated at his beloved instrument, he wiled away many an hour,-- +steeping his soul in the divine and solemn meloflies of Palestrina +and Pergolesi, till the cruel sorrow that had darkened his life +seemed nothing but a bad dream, and the face of his wife as he had +first known it, fair, trustful, and plaintive, floated before his +eyes unchanged, and arousing in him the old foolish throbbing +emotions of rapture and passion that had gladdened the bygone days. + +He never lost the hope of meeting her again, and from time to time +he renewed his search for her, though all uselessly--he studied the +daily papers with an almost morbid anxiety lest he should see the +notice of her death--and he would even await each post with a heart +beating more rapidly than usual, in case there should be some letter +from her, imploring forgiveness, explaining everything, and +summoning him once more to her side. He found a true and keenly +sympathizing friend in Sir Philip, to whom he became profoundly +attached,--to satisfy his wishes, to forward his interests, to +attend to his affairs with punctilious exactitude--all this gave +Neville the supremest happiness. He felt some slight doubt and +anxiety, when he first received the sudden announcement of his +patron's marriage,--but all forebodings as to the character and +disposition of the new Lady Bruce-Errington fled like mist before +sunshine, when he saw Thelma's fair face and felt her friendly hand- +clasp. + +Every morning on her way to the breakfast-room, she would look in at +the door of his little study, which adjoined the library, and he +learned to watch for the first glimmer of her dress, and to listen +for her bright "Good morning, Mr. Neville!" with a sensation of the +keenest pleasure. It was a sort of benediction on the whole day. A +proud man was he when she asked him to give her lessons on the +organ,--and never did he forget the first time he heard her sing. He +was playing an exquisite "Ave Maria," by Stradella, and she, +standing by her husband's side was listening, when she suddenly +exclaimed-- + +"Why, we used to sing that at Arles!"--and her rich, round voice +pealed forth clear, solemn, and sweet, following with pure +steadiness the sustained notes of the organ. Neville's heart +thrilled,--he heard her with a sort of breathless wonder and +rapture, and when she ceased, it seemed as though heaven had closed +upon him. + +"One cannot praise such a voice as that!" he said. "It would be a +kind of sacrilege. It is divine!" + +After this, many were the pleasant musical evenings they all passed +together in the grand old library, and,--as Mrs. Rush-Marvelle had +so indignantly told her husband,--no visitors were invited to the +Manor during that winter. Errington was perfectly happy--he wanted +no one but his wife, and the idea of entertaining a party of guests +who would most certainly interfere with his domestic enjoyment, +seemed almost abhorrent to him. The county-people called,--but +missed seeing Thelma, for during the daytime she was always out with +her husband taking long walks and rambling excursions to the +different places hallowed by Shakespeare's presence,--and when she, +instructed by Sir Philip, called on the county-people, they also +seemed to be never at home. + +And so, as yet, she had made no acquaintances, and now that she had +been married eight months and had come to London, the same old story +repeated itself. People called on her in the afternoon just at the +time when she went out driving,--when she returned their visits, +she, in her turn, found them absent. She did not as yet understand +the mystery of having "a day" on which to receive visitors in +shoals--a day on which to drink unlimited tea, talk platitudes, and +utterly bored and exhausted at the end thereof--in fact, she did not +see the necessity of knowing many people,--her husband was all- +sufficient for her,--to be in his society was all she cared for. She +left her card at different houses because he told her to do so, but +this social duty amused her immensely. + +"It is like a game!" she declared, laughing, "some one comes and +leaves these little cards which explain who THEY are, on ME,--then I +go and leave MY little cards and yours, explaining who WE are on +that some one--and we keep on doing this, yet we never see each +other by any chance! It is so droll!" + +Errington did not feel called upon to explain what was really the +fact,--namely, that none of the ladies who had left cards on his +wife had given her the option of their "at home" day on which to +call,--he did not think it necessary to tell her what he knew very +well, that his "set," both in county and town, had resolved to +"snub" her in every petty fashion they could devise,--that he had +already received several invitations which, as they did not include +her, he had left unanswered,--and that the only house to which she +had as yet been really asked in proper form was that of Lady +Winsleigh. He was more amused than vexed at the resolute stand made +by the so-called "leaders" of society against her, knowing as he +did, most thoroughly, how she must conquer them all in the end. She +had been seen nowhere as yet but in the Park, and Philip had good +reason to be contented with the excitement her presence had created +there,--but he was a little astonished at Lady Winsleigh's being the +first to extend a formal welcome to his unknown bride. Her behavior +seemed to him a little suspicious,--for he certainly could not +disguise from himself that she had at one time been most violently +and recklessly in love with him. He recollected one or two most +painful scenes he had had with her, in which he had endeavored to +recall her to a sense of the duty she owed to her husband,--and his +face often flushed with vexation when he thought of her wild and +wicked abandonment of despair, her tears, her passion, and +distracted, dishonoring words. Yet she was the very woman who now +came forward in the very front of society to receive his wife!--he +could not quite understand it. After all, he was a man,--and the +sundry artful tricks and wiles of fashionable ladies were, +naturally, beyond him. Thelma had never met Lady Winsleigh--not even +for a passing glance in the Park,--and when she received the +invitation for the grand reception at Winsleigh House, she accepted +it, because her husband wished her so to do, not that she herself +anticipated any particular pleasure from it. When the day came round +at last she scarcely thought of it, till at the close of their +pleasant breakfast tete-a-tete described at the commencement of this +chapter, Philip suddenly said,--"By-the-by, Thelma, I have sent to +the bank for the Errington diamonds. They'll be here presently. I +want you to wear them to-night." + +Thelma looked puzzled and inquiring. "To-night? What is it that we +do? I forget! Oh! now I know--it is to go to Lady Winsleigh. What +will it be like, Philip?" + +"Well, there'll be heaps of people all cramming and crowding up the +stairs and down them again,--you'll see all those women who have +called on you, and you'll be introduced to them,--I dare say +there'll be some bad music and an indigestible supper--and--and-- +that's all!" + +She laughed and shook her head reproachfully. "I cannot believe you, +my naughty boy!" she said, rising from her seat, and kneeling beside +him with arms round his neck, and soft eyes gazing lovingly into +his. "You are nearly as bad as that very bad Mr. Lorimer, who will +always see strange vexations in everything! I am quite sure Lady +Winsleigh will not have crowds up and down her stairs,--that would +be bad taste. And if she has music, it will be good--and she would +not give her friends a supper to make them ill." + +Philip did not answer. He was studying every delicate tint in his +wife's dazzling complexion and seemed absorbed. + +"Wear that one gown you got from Worth," he said abruptly. "I like +it--it suits you." + +"Of course I will wear it if you wish," she answered, laughing +still. "But why? What does it matter? You want me to be something +very splendid in dress to-night?" + +Philip drew a deep breath. "I want you to eclipse every woman in the +room!" he said with remarkable emphasis. + +She grew rather pensive. "I do not think that would be pleasant," +she said gravely. "Besides, it is impossible. And it would be wrong +to wish me to make every one else dissatisfied with themselves. That +is not like you, my Philip!" + +He touched with tender fingers the great glistening coil of hair +that was twisted up at the top of her graceful head. + +"Ah, darling! You don't know what a world it is, and what very queer +people there are in it! Never mind! . . . don't bother yourself +about it. You'll have a good bird's-eye view of society tonight, and +you shall tell me afterwards how you like it. I shall be curious to +know what you think of Lady Winsleigh." + +"She is beautiful, is she not?" + +"Well, she is considered so by most of her acquaintances, and by +herself," he returned with a smile. + +"I do like to see very pretty faces," said Thelma warmly; "it is as +if one looked at pictures. Since I have been in London I have seen +so many of them--it is quite pleasant. Yet none of these lovely +ladies seem to me as if they were really happy or strong in health." + +"Half of them have got nervous diseases and all sorts of things +wrong with them from over-much tea and tight lacing," replied +Errington, "and the few who ARE tolerably healthy are too bouncing +by half, going in for hunting and such-like amusements till they +grow blowsy and fat, and coarse as tom-boys or grooms. They can +never hit the juste milieu. Well!" and he rose from the breakfast- +table. "I'll go and see Neville and attend to business. We'll drive +out this afternoon for some fresh air, and afterwards you must rest, +my pet--for you'll find an 'at home' more tiring than climbing a +mountain in Norway." + +He kissed, and left her to her usual occupations, of which she had +many, for she had taken great pains to learn all the details of the +work in the Errington Establishment,--in fact, she went every +morning to the little room where Mistress Parton, the housekeeper, +received her with much respect and affection, and duly instructed +her on every point of the domestic management and daily expenditure, +so that she was thoroughly acquainted with everything that went on. + +She had very orderly quiet ways of her own, and though thoughtful +for the comfort and well-being of the lowest servant in her +household she very firmly checked all extravagance and waste, yet in +such a gentle, unobtrusive manner that her control was scarcely +felt--though her husband at once recognized it in the gradually +decreasing weekly expenses, while to all appearance, things were the +same as ever. She had plenty of clear, good common sense,--she saw +no reason why she should waste her husband's wealth simply because +it was abundant,--so that under her mild sway, Sir Philip found +himself getting richer without any trouble on his own part. His +house assumed an air of lighter and more tasteful elegance,-- +flowers, always arranged by Thelma herself, adorned the rooms,-- +birds filled the great conservatory with their delicious warblings, +and gradually that strange fairy sweet fabric known as "Home" rose +smilingly around him. Formerly he had much disliked his stately town +mansion--he had thought it dull and cold--almost gloomy,--but now he +considered it charming, and wondered he had missed so many of its +good points before. + +And when the evening for Lady Winsleigh's "crush" came,--he looked +regretfully round the lovely luxurious drawing-room with its bright +fire, deep easy chairs, books, and grand piano, and wished he and +his wife could remain at home in peace. He glanced at his watch--it +was ten o'clock. There was no hurry--he had not the least intention +of arriving at Winsleigh House too early. He knew what the effect of +Thelma's entrance would be--and he smiled as he thought of it. He +was waiting for her now,--he himself was ready in full evening +dress--and remarkably handsome he looked. He walked up and down +restlessly for a minute or so,--then taking up a volume of Keats, he +threw himself into an easy chair and soon became absorbed. His eyes +were still on the printed page, when a light touch on his shoulder +startled him,--a soft, half-laughing voice inquired--"Philip! Do I +please you?" + +He sprang up and faced her,--but for a moment could not speak. The +perfection of her beauty had never ceased to arouse his wonder and +passionate admiration,--but on this night, as she stood before him, +arrayed in a simple, trailing robe of ivory-tinted velvet, with his +family diamonds flashing in a tiara of light on her hair, glistening +against the whiteness of her throat and rounded arms, she looked +angelically lovely--so radiant, so royal, and withal so innocently +happy, that, wistfully gazing at her, and thinking of the social +clique into which she was about to make her entry, he wondered +vaguely whether he was not wrong to take so pure and fair a creature +among the false glitter and reckless hypocrisy of modern fashion and +folly. And so he stood silent, till Thelma grew anxious. + +"Ah, you are not satisfied!" she said plaintively. "I am not as you +wish! There is something wrong." + +He drew her closely into his arms, kissing her with an almost +pathetic tenderness. + +"Thelma, my love, my sweet one!" and his strong voice trembled. "You +do not know--how should you? what I think of you! Satisfied? +Pleased? Good Heavens--what little words those are to express my +feelings! I can tell you how you look, for nothing can ever make YOU +vain. You are beautiful!. . . you are the most beautiful woman I +have ever seen, and you look your very best tonight. But you are +more than beautiful--you are good and pure and true, while society +is--But why should I destroy your illusions? Only, my wife,--we have +been all in all to each other,--and now I have a foolish feeling as +if things were going to be different--as if we should not be so much +together--and I wish--I wish to God I could keep you all to myself +without anybody's interference!" + +She looked at him in wonder, though she smiled. + +"But you have changed, my boy, since the morning," she said." Then +you did wish me to be particular in dress,--and to wear your jewels, +for this Lady Winsleigh. Now your eyes are sad, and you seem as if +you would rather not go at all. Well, is it not easy to remain at +home? I will take off these fine things, and we will sit together +and read. Shall it be so?" + +He laughed. "I believe you would do it if I asked you!" he said. + +"But, of course! I am quite happy alone with you. I care nothing for +this party,--what is it to me if you do not wish to go?" + +He kissed her again. "Thelma, don't spoil me too much! If you let me +have my own way to such an extent, who knows what an awful domestic +tyrant I may become! No, dear--we must go tonight--there's no help +for it. You see we've accepted the invitation, and it's no use being +churlish. Besides, after all"--he gazed at her admiringly--"I want +them to see my Norwegian rose! Come along! The carriage is waiting." + +They passed out into the hall, where Britta was in attendance with a +long cloak of pale-blue plush lined with white fur, in which she +tenderly enveloped her beloved "Froken," her rosy face beaming with +affectionate adoration as she glanced from the fair diamond-crowned +head down to the point of a small pearl-embroidered shoe that peeped +beneath the edge of the rich, sheeny white robe, and saw that +nothing was lacking to the most perfect toilette that ever woman +wore. + +"Good-night, Britta!" said Thelma kindly. "You must not sit up for +me. You will be tired." + +Britta smiled--it was evident she meant to outwatch the stars, if +necessary, rather than allow her mistress to be unattended on her +return. But she said nothing--she waited at the door while Philip +assisted his wife into the carriage--and still stood musingly under +the wide portico, after they had driven away. + +"Hadn't you better come in, Miss Britta?" said the butler +respectfully,--he had a great regard for her ladyship's little maid. + +Britta, recalled to herself, started, turned, and re-entered the +hall. + +"There will be many fine folks there to-night, I suppose?" she +asked. + +The butler rubbed his nose perplexedly. "Fine folks at Winsleigh +House? Well, as far as clothes go, I dare say there will. But +there'll be no one like her ladyship--no one!" And he shook his grey +head emphatically. + +"Of course not!" said Britta, with a sort of triumphant defiance. +"We know that very well, Morris! There's no one like her ladyship +anywhere in the wide world! But I tell you what--I think a great +many people will be jealous of her." + +Morris smiled. "You may take your oath of that, Miss Britta," he +said with placid conviction. "Jealous! Jealous isn't the word for +it! Why," and he surveyed Britta's youthful countenance with +fatherly interest, "you're only a child as it were, and you don't +know the world much. Now, I've been five and twenty years in this +family, and I knew Sir Philip's mother, the Lady Eulalie--he named +his yacht after her. Ah! she was a sweet creature--she came from +Austria, and she was as dark as her present ladyship is fair. +Wherever she went, I tell you, the women were ready to cry for spite +and envy of her good looks--and they would say anything against her +they could invent. That's the way they go on sometimes in society, +you know." + +"As bad as in Bosekop," murmured Britta, more to herself than to +him, "only London is a larger place." Then raising her voice again, +she said, "Perhaps there will be some people wicked enough to hate +her ladyship, Morris?" + +"I shouldn't wonder," said Morris philosophically. "I shouldn't +wonder at all! There's a deal of hate about one way or another,--and +if a lady is as beautiful as an angel, and cuts out everybody +wherever she goes, why you can't expect the other ladies to be very +fond of her. 'Tisn't in human nature--at least not in feminine human +nature. Men don't care much about their looks, one way or the other, +unless they're young chaps--then one has a little patience with them +and they come all right." + +But Britta had become meditative again. She went slowly up into her +mistress's room and began arranging the few trifles that had been +left in disorder. + +"Just fancy!"--she said to herself--"some one may hate the Froken +even in London just as they hated her in Bosekop, because she is so +unlike everybody else. _I_ shall keep my eyes open,--and _I_ shall +soon find out any wickedness against her! My beautiful, dear +darling! I believe the world is a cruel place after all,--but SHE +shan't be made unhappy in it, if I can help it!" + +And with this emphatic declaration, she kissed a little shoe of +Thelma's that she was just putting by--and, smoothing her curls, +went down to her supper. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +"Such people there are living and flourishing in the world,-- +Faithless, Hopeless, Charityless,--let us have at them, dear +friends, with might and main!"--THACKERAY. + + +Who can adequately describe the thrilling excitement attending an +aristocratic "crush,"--an extensive, sweeping-off-of-old-cores "at +home,"--that scene of bewildering confusion which might be +appropriately set forth to the minds of the vulgar in the once- +popular ditty, "Such a getting-up-stairs I never did see!" Who can +paint in sufficiently brilliant colors the mere OUTSIDE of a house +thus distinguished by this strange festivity, in which there is no +actual pleasure,--this crowding of carriages--this shouting of small +boys and policemen?--who can, in words, delineate the various phases +of lofty indignation and offense on the countenances of pompous +coachmen, forced into contention with vulgar but good-natured +"cabbys"--for right of way?. . . who can sufficiently set forth the +splendors of a striped awning avenue, lined on both sides with a +collection of tropical verdure, hired for the occasion at so much +per dozen pots, and illuminated with Chinese lanterns! Talk of +orange groves in Italy and the languid light of a southern moon! +What are they compared to the marvels of striped awning? Mere trees- +-mere moonlight--(poor products of Mature!) do not excite either +wonder or envy--but, strange to say, an awning avenue invariably +does! As soon as it is erected in all its bland suggestiveness, no +matter at what house, a small crowd of street-arabs and nursemaids +collect to stare at it,--and when tired of staring, pass and repass +under it with peculiar satisfaction; the beggar, starving for a +crust, lingers doubtfully near it, and ventures to inquire of the +influenza-smitten crossing-sweeper whether it is a wedding or a +party? And if Awning Avenue means matrimony, the beggar waits to see +the guests come out; if, on the contrary, it stands for some evening +festivity, he goes, resolving to return at the appointed hour, and +try if he cannot persuade one "swell" at least to throw him a penny +for his night's supper. Yes--a great many people endure sharp +twinges of discontent at the sight of Awning Avenue,--people who +can't afford to give parties, and who wish they could,--pretty, +sweet girls who never go to a dance in their lives, and long with +all their innocent hearts for a glimpse,--just one glimpse!--of what +seems to them inexhaustible, fairy-like delight,--lonely folks, who +imagine in their simplicity that all who are privileged to pass +between the lines of hired tropical foliage aforementioned, must +perforce be the best and most united of friends--hungry men and +women who picture, with watering mouths, the supper-table that lies +BEYOND the awning, laden with good things, of the very names of +which they are hopelessly ignorant,--while now and then a stern, +dark-browed Thinker or two may stalk by and metaphorically shake his +fist at all the waste, extravagance, useless luxury, humbug, and +hypocrisy Awning Avenue usually symbolizes, and may mutter in his +beard, like an old-fashioned tragedian, "A time WILL come!" Yes, Sir +Thinker!--it will most undoubtedly--it MUST--but not through you-- +not through any mere human agency. Modern society contains within +itself the seed of its own destruction,--the most utter Nihilist +that ever swore deadly oath need but contain his soul in patience +and allow the seed to ripen. For God's justice is as a circle that +slowly surrounds an evil and as slowly closes on it with crushing +and resistless force,--and feverish, fretting humanity, however +nobly inspired, can do nothing either to hasten or retard the round, +perfect, absolute and Divine Law. So let the babes of the world play +on, and let us not frighten them with stories of earthquakes; they +are miserable enough as it is, believe it!--their toys are so +brittle, and snap in their feeble hands so easily, that one is +inclined to pity them! And Awning Avenue, with its borrowed verdure +and artificial light, is frequently erected for the use of some of +the most wretched among the children of the earth,--children who +have trifled with and lost everything,--love, honor, hope, and +faith, and who are travelling rapidly to the grave with no +consolation save a few handfuls, of base coin, which they must, +perforce, leave behind them at the last. + +So it may be that the crippled crossing-sweeper outside Winsleigh +House is a very great deal happier than the master of that stately +mansion. He has a new broom,--and Master Ernest Winsleigh has given +him two oranges, and a rather bulky stick of sugar candy. He is a +protege of Ernest's--that bright handsome boy considers it a "jolly +shame"--to have only one leg,--and has said so with much emphasis,-- +and though the little sweeper himself has never regarded his +affliction quite in that light, he is exceedingly grateful for the +young gentleman's patronage and sympathy thus frankly expressed. And +on this particular night of the grand reception he stands, leaning +on his broom and munching his candy, a delighted spectator of the +scene in Park Lane,--the splendid equipages, the prancing horses, +the glittering liveries, the excited cabmen, the magnificent +toilettes of the ladies, the solemn and resigned deportment of the +gentlemen,--and he envies none of them--not he! Why should he? His +oranges are in his pocket--untouched as yet--and it is doubtful +whether the crowding guests at the Winsleigh supper-table shall find +anything there to yield them such entire enjoyment as he will +presently take in his humble yet refreshing desert. And he is +pleased as a child at a pantomime--the Winsleigh "at home" is a show +that amuses him,--and he makes sundry remarks on "'im" and "'er" in +a meditative sotto voce. He peeps up Awning Avenue heedless of the +severe eye of the policeman on guard,--he sweeps the edge of the +crimson felt foot-cloth tenderly with his broom,--and if he has a +desire ungratified, it is that he might take a peep just for a +minute inside the front door, and see how "they're all a'goin' it!" + +And how ARE they a'goin' it! Well, not very hilariously, if one may +judge by the aspect of the gentlemen in the hall and on the stairs,- +-gentlemen of serious demeanor, who are leaning, as though +exhausted, against the banisters, with a universal air of profound +weariness and dissatisfaction. Some of these are young fledglings of +manhood,--callow birds who, though by no means innocent,--are more +or less inexperienced,--and who have fluttered hither to the snare +of Lady Winsleigh's "at home," half expecting to be allowed to make +love to their hostess, and so have something to boast of +afterwards,--others are of the middle-aged complacent type, who, +though infinitely bored, have condescended to "look in" for ten +minutes or so, to see if there are any pretty women worth the honor +of their criticism--others again (and these are the most +unfortunate) are the "nobodies"--or husbands, fathers, and brothers +of "beauties," whom they have dutifully escorted to the scene of +triumph, in which they, unlucky wights! are certainly not expected +to share. A little desultory conversation goes on among these stair- +loungers,--conversation mingled with much dreary yawning,--a trained +opera-singer is shaking forth chromatic roulades and trills in the +great drawing-room above,--there is an incessant stream of people +coming and going,--there is the rustle of silk and satin,--perfume, +shaken out of lace kerchiefs, and bouquets oppresses the warm air,-- +the heat is excessive,--and there is a never-ending monotonous hum +of voices, only broken at rare intervals by the "society laugh"-- +that unmeaning giggle on the part of the women,--that strained "ha, +ha, ha!" on the part of the men, which is but the faint ghostly echo +of the farewell voice of true mirth. + +Presently, out of the ladies' cloak-room come two fascinating +figures--the one plump and matronly, with grey hair and a capacious +neck glittering with diamonds,--the other a slim girl in pale pink, +with dark eyes and a ravishing complexion, for whom the lazy +gentlemen on the stairs make immediate and respectful room. + +"How d'ye do, Mrs. Van Clupp?" says one of the loungers. + +"Glad to see you, Miss Marcia!" says another, a sandy-haired young +man, with a large gardenia in his button-hole, and a glass in his +eye. + +At the sound of his voice Miss Marcia stops and regards him with a +surprised smile. She is very pretty, is Marcia,--bewitchingly +pretty,--and she has an air of demure grace and modesty about her +that is perfectly charming. Why? oh, why does she not remain in that +sylph-like, attitude of questioning silence? But she speaks--and the +charm is broken. + +"Waal now! Dew tell!" she exclaims. "I thought yew were in Pa-ar-- +is! Ma, would yew have concluded to find Lord Algy here? This is TOO +lovely! If I'd known YEW were coming I'd have stopped at home--yes, +I would--that's so!" + +And she nods her little head, crowned with its glossy braids of +chestnut hair, in a very coquettish manner, while her mother, +persistently beaming a stereotyped company smile on all around her, +begins to ascend the stairs, beckoning her daughter to follow. +Marcia does so, and Lord Algernon Masherville escorts her. + +"You--you didn't mean that!" he stammers rather feebly--"You--you +don't mind my being here, do you? I'm--I'm AWFULLY glad to see you +again, you know--and--er--all that sort of thing!" + + Marcia darts a keen glance at him,--the glance of an observant, +clear-headed magpie. + +"Oh yes! I dare say!" she remarks with airy scorn. "S'pect ME to +believe YEW! Waal! Did yew have a good time in Pa-ar--is?" + +"Fairly so," answers Lord Masherville indifferently. "I only came +back two days ago. Lady Winsleigh met me by chance at the theatre, +and asked me to look in to-night for 'some fun' she said. Have you +any idea what she meant?" + +"Of course!" says the fair New Yorker, with a little nasal laugh,-- +"don't YEW know? We're all here to see the fisherwoman from the +wilds of Norway,--the creature Sir Philip Errington married last +year. I conclude she'll give us fits all round, don't yew?" + +Lord Masherville, at this, appears to hesitate. His eye-glass +troubles him, and he fidgets with its black string. He is not +intellectual--he is the most vacillating, most meek and timid of +mortals--but he is a gentleman in his own poor fashion, and has a +sort of fluttering chivalry about him, which, though feeble, is +better than none. + +"I really cannot tell you, Miss Marcia," he replies almost +nervously. "I hear--at the Club,--that--that Lady Bruce-Errington is +a great beauty." + +"Dew tell!" shrieks Marcia, with a burst of laughter. "Is she really +though! But I guess her looks won't mend her grammar any way!" + +He makes no reply, as by this time they have reached the crowded +drawing-room, where Lady Winsleigh, radiant in ruby velvet and rose- +brilliants, stands receiving her guests, with a cool smile and nod +for mere acquaintances,--and a meaning flash of her dark eyes for +her intimates, and a general air of haughty insolence and perfect +self-satisfaction pervading her from head to foot. Close to her is +her husband, grave, courtly, and kind to all comers, and fulfilling +his duty as host to perfection,--still closer is Sir Francis Lennox, +who in the pauses of the incoming tide of guests finds occasion to +whisper trifling nothings in her tiny white ear, and even once +ventures to arrange more taste-fully a falling cluster of pale roses +that rests lightly on the brief shoulder-strap (called by courtesy a +sleeve) which, keeps her ladyship's bodice in place. + +Mrs. Rush-Marvelle is here too, in all her glory,--her good-humored +countenance and small nose together beam with satisfaction,--her +voluminous train of black satin showered with jet gets in +everybody's way,--her ample bosom heaves like the billowy sea, +somewhat above the boundary line of transparent lace that would fain +restrain it--but in this particular she is prudence itself compared +with her hostess, whose charms are exhibited with the unblushing +frankness of a ballet-girl,--and whose example is followed, it must +be confessed, by most of the women in the room. Is Mr. Rush-Marvelle +here? Oh yes--after some little trouble we discover him,--squeezed +against the wall and barricaded by the grand piano,--in company with +a large album, over which he pores, feigning an almost morbid +interest in the portraits of persons he has never seen, and never +will see. Beside him is a melancholy short man with long hair and +pimples, who surveys the increasing crowd in the room with an aspect +that is almost tragic. Once or twice he eyes Mr. Marvelle dubiously +as though he would speak--and, finally, he DOES speak, tapping that +album-entranced gentleman on the arm with an energy that is somewhat +startling. + +"It is to blay I am here!" he announces. "To blay ze biano! I am +great artist!" He rolls his eyes wildly and with a sort of forced +calmness proceeds to enumerate on his fingers--"Baris, Vienna, Rome, +Berlin, St. Betersburg--all know me! All resbect me! See!" And he +holds out his button-hole in which there is a miniature red ribbon. +"From ze Emberor! Kaiser Wilhelm!" He exhibits a ring on his little +finger. "From ze Tsar!" Another rapid movement and a pompous gold +watch is thrust before the bewildered gaze of his listener. "From my +bubils in Baris! I am bianist--I am here to blay!" + +And raking his fingers through his long locks, he stares defiantly +around him. Mr. Rush-Marvelle is a little frightened. This is an +eccentric personage--he must be soothed. Evidently he must be +soothed! + +"Yes, yes, I quite understand!" he says, nodding persuasively at the +excited genius. "You are here to play. Exactly! Yes, yes! We shall +all have the pleasure of hearing you presently. Delightful, I'm +sure! You are the celebrated Herr--?" + +"Machtenklinken," adds the pianist haughtily. "Ze celebrated +Machtenklinken!" + +"Yes--oh--er,--yes!" And Mr. Marvelle grapples desperately with this +terrible name. "Oh--er--yes! I--er know you by reputation Herr--er-- +Machten--. Oh, er--yes! Pray excuse me for a moment!" + +And thankfully catching the commanding eye of his wife, he scrambles +hastily away from the piano and joins her. She is talking to the Van +Clupps, and she wants him to take away Mr. Van Clupp, a white- +headed, cunning-looking old man, for a little conversation, in order +that she may be free to talk over certain naughty bits of scandal +with Mrs. Van Clupp and Marcia. + +To-night there is no place to sit down in all the grand extent of +the Winsleigh drawing-rooms,--puffy old dowagers occupy the sofas, +ottomans, and chairs, and the largest and most brilliant portion of +the assemblage are standing, grinning into each other's faces with +praiseworthy and polite pertinacity, and talking as rapidly as +though their lives depended on how many words they could utter +within the space of two minutes. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle, Mrs. Van Clupp +and Marcia make their way slowly through the gabbling, pushing, +smirking crowd till they form a part of the little coterie +immediately round Lady Winsleigh, to whom, at the first opportunity, +Mrs. Marvelle whispers-- + +"Have they come?" + +"The modern Paris and the new Helen?" laughs Lady Clara, with a +shrug of her snowy shoulders. "No, not yet. Perhaps they won't turn +up at all! Marcia dear, you look QUITE charming! Where is Lord +Algy?" + +"I guess he's not a thousand miles away!" returns Marcia, with a +knowing twinkle of her dark eyes. "He'll hang round here presently! +Why,--there's Mr. Lorimer worrying in at the doorway!" + +"Worrying in" is scarcely the term to apply to the polite but +determined manner in which George Lorimer coolly elbows a passage +among the heaving bare shoulders, backs, fat arms, and long trains +that seriously obstruct his passage, but after some trouble he +succeeds in his efforts to reach his fair hostess, who receives him +with rather a supercilious uplifting of her delicate eyebrows. + +"Dear me, Mr. Lorimer, you are quite a stranger!" she observes +somewhat satirically. "We thought you had made up your mind to +settle in Norway!" + +"Did you really, though!" and Lorimer smiles languidly. "I wonder at +that,--for you knew I came back from that region in the August of +last year." + +"And since then I suppose you have played the hermit?" inquires her +ladyship indifferently, unfurling her fan of ostrich feathers and +waving it slowly to and fro. + +"By no means! I went off to Scotland with a friend, Alec Macfarlane, +and had some excellent shooting. Then, as I never permit my +venerable mamma to pass the winter in London, I took her to Nice, +from which delightful spot we returned three weeks ago." + +Lady Winsleigh laughs. "I did not ask you for a categorical +explanation of your movements, Mr. Lorimer," she says lightly--"I'm +sure I hope you enjoyed yourself?" + +He bows gravely. "Thanks! Yes,--strange to say, I DID manage to +extract a little pleasure here and there out of the universal +dryness of things." + +"Have you seen your friend, Sir Philip, since he came to town?" asks +Mrs. Rush-Marvelle in her stately way. + +"Several times. I have dined with him and Lady Errington frequently. +I understand they are to be here to-night?" + +Lady Winsleigh fans herself a little more rapidly, and her full +crimson lips tighten into a thin, malicious line. + +"Well, I asked them, of course,--as a matter of form," she says +carelessly,--"but I shall, on the whole, be rather relieved if they +don't come." + +A curious, amused look comes over Lorimer's face. + +"Indeed! May I ask why?" + +"I should think the reason ought to be perfectly apparent to you"-- +and her ladyship's eyes flash angrily. "Sir Philip is all very well- +-he is by birth a gentleman,--but the person he has married is not a +lady, and it is an exceedingly unpleasant duty for me to have to +receive her." + +A feint tinge of color flushes Lorimer's brow. "I think," he says +slowly, "I think you will find yourself mistaken, Lady Winsleigh. I +believe--" Here he pauses, and Mrs. Rush-Marvelle fixes him with a +stony stare. + +"Are we to understand that she is educated?" she inquires +freezingly. "Positively well-educated?" + +Lorimer laughs. "Not according to the standard of modern fashionable +requirements!" he replies. + +Mrs. Marvelle sniffs the air portentously,--Lady Clara curls her +lip. At that moment everybody makes respectful way for one of the +most important guests of the evening--a broad-shouldered man of +careless attire, rough hair, fine features, and keen, mischievous +eyes--a man of whom many stand in wholesome awe,--Beaufort Lovelace, +or as he is commonly called. "Beau" Lovelace, a brilliant novelist, +critic, and pitiless satirist. For him society is a game,--a gay +humming-top which he spins on the palm of his hand for his own +private amusement. Once a scribbler in an attic, subsisting bravely +on bread and cheese and hope, he now lords it more than half the +year in a palace of fairy-like beauty on the Lago di Como,--and he +is precisely the same person who was formerly disdained and flouted +by fair ladies because his clothes were poor and shabby, yet for +whom they now practise all the arts known to their sex, in fruitless +endeavors to charm and conciliate him. For he laughs at them and +their pretty ways,--and his laughter is merciless. His arrowy glance +discovers the "poudre de riz" on their blooming cheeks,--the carmine +on their lips, and the "kohl" on their eyelashes. He knows purchased +hair from the natural growth--and he has a cruel eye for discerning +the artificial contour of a "made-up" figure. And like a merry satyr +dancing in a legendary forest, he capers and gambols in the vast +fields of Humbug--all forms of it are attacked and ridiculed by his +powerful and pungent pen,--he is a sort of English Heine, gathering +in rich and daily harvests from the never-perishing incessantly- +growing crop of fools. And as he,--in all the wickedness of daring +and superior intellect,--approaches, Lady Winsleigh draws herself up +with the conscious air of a beauty who knows she is nearly perfect,- +-Mrs. Rush-Marvelle makes a faint endeavor to settle the lace more +modestly over her rebellious bosom,--Marcia smiles coquettishly, and +Mrs. Van Clupp brings her diamond pendant (value, a thousand +guineas) more prominently forward,--for as she thinks, poor ignorant +soul! "wealth always impresses these literary men more than +anything!" In one swift glance Beau Lovelace observes all these +different movements,--and the inner fountain of his mirth begins to +bubble. "What fun those Van Clupps are!" he thinks. "The old woman's +got a diamond plaster on her neck! Horrible taste! She's anxious to +show how much she's worth, I suppose! Mrs. Marvelle wants a shawl, +and Lady Clara a bodice. By Jove! What sights the women do make of +themselves!" + +But his face betrays none of these reflections,--its expression is +one of polite gravity, though a sudden sweetness smooths it as he +shakes hands with Lord Winsleigh and Lorimer,--a sweetness that +shows how remarkably handsome Beau can look if he chooses. He rests +one hand on Lorimer's shoulder. + +"Why, George, old boy, I thought you were playing the dutiful son at +Nice? Don't tell me you've deserted the dear old lady! Where is she? +You know I've got to finish that argument with her about her beloved +Byron." + +Lorimer laughs. "Go and finish it when you like, Beau," he answers. +"My mother's all right. She's at home. You know she's always charmed +to see you. She's delighted with that new book of yours." + +"Is she? She finds pleasure in trifles then--" + +"Oh no, Mr. Lovelace!" interrupts Lady Clara, with a winning glance. +"You must not run yourself down! The book is exquisite! I got it at +once from the library, and read every line of it!" + +"I am exceedingly flattered!" says Lovelace, with a grave bow, +though there is a little twinkling mockery in his glance. "When a +lady so bewitching condescends to read what I have written, how can +I express my emotion!" + +"The press is unanimous in its praise of you," remarks Lord +Winsleigh cordially. "You are quite the lion of the day!" + +"Oh quite!" agrees Beau laughing. "And do I not roar 'as sweet as +any nightingale'? But I say, where's the new beauty?" + +"I really do not know to whom you allude, Mr. Lovelace," replies +Lady Winsleigh coldly. Lorimer smiles and is silent. Beau looks from +one to the other amusedly. + +"Perhaps I've made a mistake," he says, "but the Duke of Roxwell is +responsible. He told me that if I came here to-night I should see +one of the loveliest women living,--Lady Bruce-Errington. He saw her +in the park. I think THIS gentleman"--indicating Sir Francis Lennox, +who bites his moustache vexedly--"said quite openly at the Club last +night that she WAS the new beauty,--and that she would be here this +evening." + +Lady Winsleigh darts a side glance at her "Lennie" that is far from +pleasant. + +"Really it's perfectly absurd!" she says, with a scornful toss of +her head. "We shall have housemaids and bar-girls accepted as 'quite +the rage' next. I do not know Sir Philip's wife in the least,--I +hear she was a common farmer's daughter. I certainly invited her to- +night out of charity and kindness in order that she might get a +little accustomed to society--for, of course, poor creature! +entirely ignorant and uneducated as she is, everything will seem +strange to her. But she has not come--" + +"SIR PHILIP AND LADY BRUCE-ERRINGTON!" announces Briggs at this +juncture. + +There is a sudden hush--a movement of excitement,--and the groups +near the door fall apart staring, and struck momentarily dumb with +surprise, as a tall, radiant figure in dazzling white, with diamonds +flashing on a glittering coil of gold hair, and wondrous sea-blue +earnest eyes, passes through their midst with that royal free step +and composed grace of bearing that might distinguish an Empress of +many nations. + +"Good heavens! What a magnificent woman!" mutters Beau Lovelace-- +"Venus realized!" + +Lady Winsleigh turns very pale,--she trembles and can scarcely +regain her usual composure as Sir Philip, with a proud tenderness +lighting up the depths of his hazel eyes, leads this vision of youth +and perfect loveliness up to her, saying simply-- + +"Lady Winsleigh, allow me to introduce to you--my wife! Thelma, this +is Lady Winsleigh." + +There is a strange sensation in Lady Winsleigh's throat as though a +very tight string were suddenly drawn round it to almost strangling +point--and it is certain that she feels as though she must scream, +hit somebody with her fan, and rush from the room in an undignified +rage. But she chokes back these purely feminine emotions--she smiles +and extends her jewelled hand. + +"So good of you to come to-night!" she says sweetly. "I have been +longing to see you, Lady Errington! I dare say you know your husband +is quite an old acquaintance of mine!" + +And a langourous glance, like fire seen through smoke, leaps from +beneath her silky eyelashes at Sir Philip--but he sees it not--he is +chatting and laughing gaily with Lorimer and Beau Lovelace. + +"Indeed, yes!" answers Thelma, in that soft low voice of hers, which +had such a thrilling richness within it--"and it is for that reason +I am very glad to meet you. It is always pleasant for me to know my +husband's friends." + +Here she raises those marvellous, innocent eyes of hers and smiles;- +-why does Lady Winsleigh shrink from that frank and childlike +openness of regard? Why does she, for one brief moment, hate +herself?--why does she so suddenly feel herself to be vile and +beneath contempt? God only knows!--but the first genuine blush that +has tinged her ladyship's cheek for many a long day, suddenly +spreads a hot and embarrassing tide of crimson over the polished +pallor of her satiny skin, and she says hurriedly-- + +"I must find you some people to talk to. This is my dear friend, +Mrs. Rush-Marvelle--I am sure you will like each other. Let me +introduce Mrs. Van Clupp to you--Mrs. Van Clupp, and Miss Van +Clupp!" + +The ladies bow stiffly while Thelma responds to their prim +salutation with easy grace. + +"Sir Francis Lennox"--continues Lady Winsleigh, and there is +something like a sneer in her smile, as that gentleman makes a deep +and courtly reverence, with an unmistakable look of admiration in +his sleepy tiger-brown eyes,--then she turns to Lord Winsleigh and +adds in a casual way, "My husband!" Lord Winsleigh advances rather +eagerly--there is a charm in the exquisite nobility of Thelma's face +that touches his heart and appeals to the chivalrous and poetical +part of his nature. + +"Sir Philip and I have known each other for some years," he says, +pressing her little fair hand cordially. "It is a great pleasure for +me to see you to-night, Lady Errington--I realize how very much my +friend deserves to be congratulated on his marriage!" + +Thelma smiles. This little speech pleases her, but she does not +accept the compliment implied to herself. + +"You are very kind, Lord Winsleigh"--she answers; "I am glad indeed +that you like Philip. I do think with you that he deserves every +one's good wishes. It is my great desire to make him always happy." + +A brief shadow crosses Lord Winsleigh's thoughtful brow, and he +studies her sweet eyes attentively. Is she sincere? Does she mean +what she says? Or is she, like others of her sex, merely playing a +graceful part? A slight sigh escapes him,--absolute truth, innocent +love, and stainless purity are written in such fair, clear lines on +that perfect countenance that the mere idea of questioning her +sincerity seems a sacrilege. + +"Your desire is gratified, I am sure," he returns, and his voice is +somewhat sad. "I never saw him looking so well. He seems in +excellent spirits." + +"Oh, for that!" and she laughs. "He is a very light-hearted boy! But +once he would tell me very dreadful things about the world--how it +was not at all worth living in--but I do think he must have been +lonely. For he is very pleased with everything now, and finds no +fault at all!" + +"I can quite understand that!" and Lord Winsleigh smiles, though +that shadow of pain still rests on his brow. + +Mrs. Rush-Marvelle and the Van Clupps are listening to the +conversation with straining ears. What strange person is this? She +does not talk bad grammar, though her manner of expressing herself +is somewhat quaint and foreign. But she is babyish--perfectly +babyish! The idea of any well-bred woman condescending to sing the +praises of her own husband in public! Absurd! "Deserves every-one's +good wishes!"--pooh! her "great desire is to make him always +happy!"--what utter rubbish!--and he is a "light-hearted boy!" Good +gracious!--what next? Marcia Van Clupp is strongly inclined to +giggle, and Mrs. Van Clupp is indignantly conscious that the +Errington diamonds far surpass her own, both for size and lustre. + +At that moment Sir Philip approaches his wife, with George Lorimer +and Beau Lovelace. Thelma's smile at Lorimer is the greeting of an +old friend--a sun-bright glance that makes his heart beat a little +quicker than usual. He watches her as she turns to be introduced to +Lovelace,--while Miss Van Clupp, thinking of the relentless gift of +satire with which that brilliant writer is endowed, looks out for +"some fun"--for, as she confides in a low tone to Mrs. Marvelle-- +"she'll never know how to talk to that man!" + +"Thelma," says Sir Philip, "this is the celebrated author, Beaufort +Lovelace,--you have often heard me speak of him." + +She extends both her hands, and her eyes deepen and flash. + +"Ah! you are one of those great men whom we all love and admire!" +she says, with direct frankness,--and the cynical Beau, who has +never yet received so sincere a compliment, feels himself coloring +like a school-girl. "I am so very proud to meet you! I have read +your wonderful book, 'Azaziel,' and it made me glad and sorry +together. For why do you draw a noble example and yet say at the +same time that it is impossible to follow it? Because im one breath +you inspire us to be good, and yet you tell us we shall never become +so! That is not right,--is it?" + +Beau meets her questioning glance with a grave smile. + +"It is most likely entirely wrong from YOUR point of view, Lady +Errington," he said. "Some day we will talk over the matter. You +shall show me the error of my ways. Perhaps you will put life, and +the troublesome business of living, in quite a new light for me! You +see, we novelists have an unfortunate trick of looking at the worst +or most ludicrous side of everything--we can't help it! So many +apparently lofty and pathetic tragedies turn out, on close +examination, to be the meanest and most miserable of farces,--it's +no good making them out to be grand Greek poems when they are only +base doggerel rhymes. Besides, it's the fashion nowadays to be +chiffonniers in literature--to pick up the rags of life and sort +them in all their uncomeliness before the morbid eyes of the public. +What's the use of spending thought and care on the manufacture of a +jewelled diadem, and offering it to the people on a velvet cushion, +when they prefer an olla-podrida of cast-off clothing, dried bones +and candle-ends? In brief, what would it avail to write as grandly +as Shakespeare or Scott, when society clamors for Zola and others of +his school?" + +There was a little group round them by this time,--men generally +collected wherever Beau Lovelace aired his opinions,--and a double +attraction drew them together now in the person of the lovely woman +to whom he was holding forth. + +Marcia Van Clupp stared mightily--surely the Norwegian peasant would +not understand Beau's similes,--for they were certainly +incomprehensible to Marcia. As for his last remark--why! she had +read all Zola's novels in the secrecy of her own room, and had +gloated over them;--no words could describe her intense admiration +of books that were so indelicately realistic! "He is jealous of +other writers, I suppose," she thought; "these literary people hate +each other like poison." + +Meanwhile Thelma's blue eyes looked puzzled. "I do not know that +name," she said. "Zola!--what is he? He cannot be great. Shakespeare +I know,--he is the glory of the world, of course; I think him as +noble as Homer. Then for Walter Scott--I love all his beautiful +stories--I have read them many, many times, nearly as often as I +have read Homer and the Norse Sagas. And the world must surely love +such writings--or how should they last so long?" She laughed and +shook her bright head archly. "Chiffonnier! Point du tout! Monsieur, +les divines pensets que vous avez donne au monde ne sont pas des +chiffons." + +Beau smiled again, and offered her his arm. "Let me find you a +chair!" he said. "It will be rather a difficult matter,--still I can +but try. You will be fatigued if you stand too long." And he moved +through the swaying crowd, with her little gloved hand resting +lightly on his coat-sleeve,--while Marcia Van Clupp and her mother +exchanged looks of wonder and dismay. The "fisherwoman" could speak +French,--moreover, she could speak it with a wonderfully soft and +perfect accent,--the "person" had studied Homer and Shakespeare, and +was conversant with the best literature,--and, bitterest sting of +all, the "peasant" could give every woman in the room a lesson in +deportment, grace, and perfect taste in dress. Every costume looked +tawdy beside her richly flowing velvet draperies--every low bodice +became indecent compared with the modesty of that small square +opening at Thelma's white throat--an opening just sufficient to +display her collar of diamonds--and every figure seemed either dumpy +and awkward, too big or too fat, or too lean and too lanky--when +brought into contrast with her statuesque outlines. + +The die was cast,--the authority of Beau Lovelace was nearly supreme +in fashionable and artistic circles, and from the moment he was seen +devoting his attention to the "new beauty," excited whispers began +to flit from mouth to mouth,--"She will be the rage this season!"-- +"We must ask her to come to us!"--"DO ask Lady Winsleigh to +introduce us!"--"She MUST come to OUR house!" and so on. And Lady +Winsleigh was neither blind nor deaf--she saw and heard plainly +enough that her reign was over, and in her secret soul she was +furious. The "common farmer's daughter" was neither vulgar nor +uneducated--and she was surpassingly lovely--even Lady Winsleigh +could not deny so plain and absolute a fact. But her ladyship was a +woman of the world, and she perceived at once that Thelma was not. +Philip had married a creature with the bodily loveliness of a +goddess and the innocent soul of a child--and it was just that +child-like, pure soul looking serenely out of Thelma's eyes that had +brought the long-forgotten blush of shame to Clara Winsleigh's +cheek. But that feeling of self-contempt soon passed--she was no +better and no worse than other women of her set, she thought--after +all, what had she to be ashamed of? Nothing, except--except-- +perhaps, her "little affair" with "Lennie." A new emotion now +stirred her blood--one of malice and hatred, mingled with a sense of +outraged love and ungratified passion--for she still admired Philip +to a foolish excess. Her dark eyes flashed scornfully as she noted +the attitude of Sir Francis Lennox,--he was leaning against the +marble mantel-piece, stroking his moustache with one hand, absorbed +in watching Thelma, who, seated in an easy chair which Beau Lovelace +had found for her, was talking and laughing gaily with those +immediately around her, a group which increased in size every +moment, and in which the men were most predominant. + +"Fool!" muttered Lady Winsleigh to herself, apostrophizing "Lennie" +in this uncomplimentary manner. "Fool! I wonder if he thinks I care! +He may play hired lacquey to all the women in London if he likes! He +looks a prig compared to Philip!" + +And her gaze wandered,--Philip was standing by his wife, engaged in +an animated conversation with Lord Winsleigh. They were all near the +grand piano--and Lady Clara, smoothing her vexed brow, swept her +ruby velvets gracefully up to that quarter of the room. Before she +could speak, the celebrated Herr Machtenklinken confronted her with +some sternness. + +"Your ladyshib vill do me ze kindness to remember," he said, +loftily, "zat I am here to blay! Zere has been no obbortunity--ze +biano could not make itself to be heard in zis fery moch noise. It +is bossible your ladyshib shall require not ze music zis efening? In +zat case I shall take my fery goot leave." + +Lady Winsleigh raised her eyes with much superciliousness. + +"As you please," she said coolly. "If YOU are so indifferent to your +advantages--then all I can say is, so am I! You are, perhaps, known +on the Continent, Herr Machten-klinken,--but not here--and I think +you ought to be more grateful for my influence." + +So saying, she passed on, leaving the luckless pianist in a state of +the greatest indignation. + +"Gott in Himmel!" he gasped, in a sort of infuriated sotto voce. "Ze +Emberor himself would not have speak to me so! I come here as a +favor--her ladyshib do not offer me one pfenning,--ach! ze music is +not for such beoble! I shall brefer to blay to bigs! Zere is no art +in zis country!--" + +And he began to make his way out of the room, when he was overtaken +by Beau Lovelace, who had followed him in haste. + +"Where are you off to, Hermann?" he asked good-naturedly. "We want +you to play. There is a lady here who heard you in Paris quite +recently--she admires you immensely. Won't you come and be +introduced to her?" + +Herr Machtenklinken paused, and a smile softened his hitherto angry +countenance. + +"You are fery goot, Mr. Lofelace," he remarked--"and I would do moch +for YOU--but her ladyshib understands me not--she has offend me--it +is better I should take my leave." + +"Oh, bother her ladyship!" said Beau lightly. "Come along, and give +us something in your best style." + +So saying, he led the half-reluctant artist back to the piano, where +he was introduced to Thelma, who gave him so sweet a smile that he +was fairly dazzled. + +"It is you who play Schumann so beautifully," she said. "My husband +and I heard you at one of Lamoureux's concerts in Paris. I fear," +and she looked wistfully at him, "that you would think it very rude +and selfish of me if I asked you to play just one little piece? +Because, of course, you are here to enjoy yourself, and talk to your +friends, and it seems unkind to take you away from them!" + +A strange moisture dimmed the poor German's eyes. This was the first +time in England that the "celebrate" had been treated as a friend +and a gentleman. Up to this moment, at all the "at homes" and +"assemblies," he had not been considered as a guest at all,--he was +an "artist," "a good pianist,"--"a man who had played before the +Emperor of Germany"--and he was expected to perform for nothing, and +be grateful for the "influence" exercised on his behalf--influence +which as yet had not put one single extra guinea in his pocket. Now, +here was a great lady almost apologizing for asking him to play, +lest it should take him away from his "friends"! His heart swelled +with emotion and gratitude--the poor fellow had no "friends" in +London, except Beau Lovelace, who was kind to him, but who had no +power in the musical world,--and, as Thelma's gentle voice addressed +him, he could have knelt and kissed her little shoe for her sweet +courtesy and kindness. + +"Miladi," he said, with a profound reverence, "I will blay for you +with bleasure,--it will be a joy for ze music to make itself +beautiful for you!" + +And with this fantastic attempt at a compliment, he seated himself +at the instrument and struck a crashing chord to command silence. + +The hum of conversation grew louder than ever--and to Thelma's +surprise Lady Winsleigh seated herself by her and began to converse. +Herr Machtenklinken struck another chord,--in vain! The deafening +clamor of tongues continued, and Lady Winsleigh asked Thelma with +much seeming interest if the scenery was very romantic in Norway? + +The girl colored deeply, and after a little hesitation, said-- + +"Excuse me,--I would rather not speak till the music is over. It is +impossible for a great musician to think his thoughts out properly +unless there is silence. Would it not be better to ask every one to +leave off talking while this gentleman plays?" + +Clara Winsleigh looked amused. "My dear, you don't know them," she +said carelessly. "They would think me mad to propose such a thing! +There are always a few who listen." + +Once more the pianist poised his hands over the keys of the +instrument,--Thelma looked a little troubled and grieved. Beau +Lovelace saw it, and acting on a sudden impulse, turned towards the +chattering crowds, and, holding up his hand, called, "Silence, +please!" + +There was an astonished hush. Beau laughed. "We want to hear some +music," he said, with the utmost coolness. "Conversation can be +continued afterwards." He then nodded cheerfully towards Herr +Machtenklinken, who, inspired by this open encouragement, started +off like a race-horse into one of the exquisite rambling preludes of +Chopin. Gradually, as he played, his plain face took upon itself a +noble, thoughtful, rapt expression,--his wild eyes softened,--his +furrowed, frowning brow smoothed,--and, meeting the grave, rare blue +eyes of Thelma, he smiled. His touch grew more and more delicate and +tender--from the prelude he wandered into a nocturne of plaintive +and exceeding melancholy, which he played with thrilling and +exquisite pathos--anon, he glided into one of those dreamily joyous +yet sorrowful mazurkas, that remind one of bright flowers growing in +wild luxuriance over lonely and forsaken graves. The "celebrate" had +reason to boast of himself--he was a perfect master of the +instrument,--and as his fingers closed on the final chord, a hearty +burst of applause rewarded his efforts, led by Lovelace and Lorimer. +He responded by the usual bow,--but his real gratitude was all for +Thelma. For her he had played his best--and he had seen tears in her +lovely eyes. He felt as proud of her appreciation as of the ring he +had received from the Tsar,--and bent low over the fair hand she +extended to him. + +"You must be very happy," she said, "to feel all those lovely sounds +in your heart! I hope I shall see and hear you again some day,--I +thank you so very much for the pleasure you have given me!" + +Lady Winsleigh said nothing--and she listened to Thelma's words with +a sort of contempt. + +"Is the girl half-witted?" she thought. "She must be, or she would +not be so absurdly enthusiastic! The man plays well,--but it is his +profession to play well--it's no good praising these sort of +people,--they are never grateful, and they always impose upon you." +Aloud she asked Sir Philip-- + +"Does Lady Errington play?" + +"A little," he answered. "She sings." + +At once there was a chorus of inanely polite voices round the piano, +"Oh, DO sing, Lady Errington! Please, give us one song!" and Sir +Francis Lennox, sauntering up, fixed his languorous gaze on Thelma's +face, murmuring, "You will not be so cruel as to refuse us such +delight?" + +"But, of course not!" answered the girl, greatly surprised at all +these unnecessary entreaties. "I am always pleased to sing." And she +drew off her long loose gloves and seated herself at the piano +without the least affectation of reluctance. Then, glancing at her +husband with a bright smile, she asked, "What song do you think will +be best, Philip?" + +"One of those old Norse mountain-songs," he answered. + +She played a soft minor prelude--there was not a sound in the room +now--everybody pressed towards the piano, staring with a curious +fascination at her beautiful face and diamond-crowned hair. One +moment--and her voice, in all its passionate, glorious fullness, +rang out with a fresh vibrating tone that thrilled to the very +heart--and the foolish crowd that gaped and listened was speechless, +motionless, astonished, and bewildered. + +A Norse mountain-song was it? How strange, and grand, and wild! +George Lorimer stood apart--his eyes ached with restrained tears. He +knew the melody well--and up before him rose the dear solemnity of +the Altenguard hills, the glittering expanse of the Fjord, the dear +old farmhouse behind its cluster of pines. Again he saw Thelma as he +had seen her first--clad in her plain white gown, spinning in the +dark embrasure of the rose-wreathed window--again the words of the +self-destroyed Sigurd came back to his recollection, "Good things +may come for others--but for you the heavens are empty!" He looked +at her now,--Philip's wife--in all the splendor of her rich attire;- +-she was lovelier than ever, and her sweet nature was as yet +unspoilt by all the wealth and luxury around her. + +"Good God! what an inferno she has come into!" he thought vaguely. +"How will she stand these people when she gets to know them? The Van +Clupps, the Rush-Marvelles, and others like them,--and as for Clara +Winsleigh--" He turned to study her ladyship attentively. She was +sitting quite close to the piano--her eyes were cast down, but the +rubies on her bosom heaved quickly and restlessly, and she furled +and unfurled her fan impatiently. "I shouldn't wonder," he went on +meditating gravely, "if she doesn't try and make some mischief +somehow. She looks it." + +At that moment Thelma ceased singing, and the room rang with +applause. Herr Machtenklinken was overcome with admiration. + +"It is a voice of heaven!" he said in a rapture. + +The fair singer was surrounded with people. + +"I hope," said Mrs. Van Clupp, with her usual ill-bred eagerness to +ingratiate herself with the titled and wealthy, "I hope you will +come and see me, Lady Errington? I am at home every Friday evening +to my friends." + +"Oh yes," said Thelma, simply. "But I am not your friend yet! When +we do know each other better I will come. We shall meet each other +many times first,--and then you will see if you like me to be your +friend. Is it not so?" + +A scarcely concealed smile reflected itself on the faces of all who +heard this naive, but indefinite acceptance of Mrs. Van Clupp's +invitation, while Mrs. Van Clupp herself was somewhat mortified, and +knew not what to answer. This Norwegian girl was evidently quite +ignorant of the usages of polite society, or she would at once have +recognized the fact that an "at home" had nothing whatsoever to do +with the obligations of friendship--besides, as far as friendship +was concerned, had not Mrs. Van Clupp tabooed several of her own +blood-relations and former intimate acquaintances?. . . for the very +sensible reason that while she had grown richer, they had grown +poorer. But now Mrs. Rush-Marvelle sailed up in all her glory, with +her good-natured smile and matronly air. She was a privileged +person, and she put her arm round Thelma's waist. + +"You must come to me, my dear," she said with real kindness--her +motherly heart had warmed to the girl's beauty and innocence,--" I +knew Philip when he was quite a boy. He will tell you what a +dreadfully old woman I am! You must try to like me for his sake." + +Thelma smiled radiantly. "I always wish to like Philip's friends," +she said frankly. "I do hope I shall please you!" + +A pang of remorse smote Mrs. Rush-Marvelle's heart as she remembered +how loth she had been to meet Philip's "peasant" wife,--she +hesitated,--then, yielding to her warm impulse, drew the girl closer +and kissed her fair rose-tinted cheek. + +"You please everybody, my child," she said honestly. "Philip is a +lucky man! Now I'll say good night, for it is getting late,--I'll +write to you to-morrow and fix a day for you to come and lunch with +me." + +"But you must also come and see Philip," returned Thelma, pressing +her hand. + +"So I will--so I will!" and Mrs. Rush-Marvelle nodded beamingly, and +made her way up to Lady Winsleigh, saying, "Bye-bye, Clara! Thanks +for a most charming evening!" + +Clara pouted. "Going already, Mimsey?" she queried,--then, in a +lower tone, she said, "Well! what do you think of her?" + +"A beautiful child--no more!" answered Mrs. Marvelle,--then, +studying with some gravity the brilliant brunette face before her, +she added in a whisper, "Leave her alone, Clara,--don't make her +miserable! You know what I mean! It wouldn't take much to break her +heart." + +Clara laughed harshly and played with her fan. + +"Dear me, Mimsey!. . . you are perfectly outrageous! Do you think +I'm an ogress ready to eat her up? On the contrary, I mean to be a +friend to her." + +Mrs. Marvelle still looked grave. + +"I'm glad to hear it," she said; "only some friends are worse than +declared enemies." + +Lady Winsleigh shrugged her shoulders. + +"Go along, Mimsey,--go home to bed!" she exclaimed impatiently. "You +are INTENSE! I hate sentimental philosophy and copy-book +platitudes!" She laughed again and folded her hands with an air of +mock penitence, "There! I didn't mean to be rude! Good-night, dear +old darling!" + +"Good-night, Clara!" and Mrs. Marvelle, summoning her timid husband +from some far corner, where he had remained in hiding, took her +departure with much stateliness. + +A great many people were going down to supper by this time, but Sir +Philip was tired of the heat and glare and noise, and whispered as +much to Thelma, who at once advanced to bid her hostess farewell. + +"Won't you have some supper?" inquired her ladyship. "Don't go yet!" + +But Thelma was determined not to detain her husband a moment longer +than he wished--so Lady Winsleigh, seeing remonstrances were of no +avail, bade them both an effusive good-night. + +"We must see a great deal of each other!" she said, pressing +Thelma's hands warmly in her own: "I hope we shall be quite dear +friends!" + +"Thank you!" said Thelma, "I do hope so too, if you wish it so much. +Good-night, Lord Winsleigh!" + +"Let me escort you to your carriage," said her noble host, at once +offering her his arm. + +"And allow me to follow," added Beau Lovelace, slipping his arm +through Errington's, to whom he whispered, "How dare you, sir! How +dare you be such a provokingly happy man in this miserable old +world?" Errington laughed--and the little group had just reached the +door of the drawing-room when Thelma suddenly turned with a look of +inquiry in her eyes. + +"Where is Mr. Lorimer?" she said. "I have forgotten to say good- +night to him, Philip." + +"Here I am, Lady Errington," and Lorimer sauntered forward with +rather a forced smile,--a smile which altogether vanished, leaving +his face strangely pale, as she stretched out her hand to him, and +said laughingly-- + +"You bad Mr. Lorimer! Where were you? You know it would make me +quite unhappy not to wish you goodnight. Ah, you are a very naughty +brother!" + +"Come home with us, George," said Sir Philip eagerly. "Do, there's a +good fellow!" + +"I can't, Phil!" answered Lorimer, almost pathetically. "I can't to- +night--indeed, I can't! Don't ask me!" And he wrung his friend's +hand hard,--and then bravely met Thelma's bright glance. + +"Forgive me!" he said to her. "I know I ought to have presented +myself before--I'm a dreadfully lazy fellow, you know! Good-night!" + +Thelma regarded him steadfastly. + +"You look,--what is it you call yourself sometimes--SEEDY?" she +observed. "Not well at all. Mind you come to us to-morrow!" + +He promised--and then accompanied them down to their carriage--he +and Beau Lovelace assisting to cover Thelma with her fur cloak, and +being the last to shake hands with Sir Philip as he sprang in beside +his wife, and called to the coachman "Home!" The magic word seemed +to effect the horses, for they started at a brisk trot, and within a +couple of minutes the carriage was out of sight. It was a warm star- +lit evening,--and as Lorimer and Lovelace re-entered Winsleigh +House, Beau stole a side-glance at his silent companion. + +"A plucky fellow!" he mused; "I should say he'd die game. Tortures +won't wring his secret out of him." Aloud he said, "I say, haven't +we had enough of this? Don't let us sup here--nothing but +unsubstantial pastry and claretcup--the latter abominable mixture +would kill me. Come on to the Club, will you?" + +Lorimer gladly assented--they got their over-coats from the +officious Briggs, tipped him handsomely, and departed arm in arm. +The last glimpse they caught of the Winsleigh festivities was Marcia +Van Clupp sitting on the stairs, polishing off with much gusto the +wing and half-breast of a capon,--while the mild Lord Masherville +stood on the step just above her, consoling his appetite with a +spoonful of tepid yellow jelly. He had not been able to secure any +capon for himself--he had been frightened away by the warning cry of +"Ladies first!" shouted forth by a fat gentleman, who was on guard +at the head of the supper-table, and who had already secreted five +plates of different edibles for his own consumption, in a neat +corner behind the window-curtains. Meanwhile, Sir Philip Bruce- +Errington, proud, happy, and triumphant, drew his wife into a close +embrace as they drove home together, and said, "You were the queen +of the evening, my Thelma! Have you enjoyed yourself?" + +"Oh, I do not call that enjoyment!" she declared. "How is it +possible to enjoy anything among so many strangers?" + +"Well, what is it?" he asked laughingly. + +She laughed also. "I do not know indeed what it is!" she said. "I +have never been to anything like it before. It did seem to me as if +all the people were on show for some reason or other. And the +gentlemen did look very tired--there was nothing for them to do. +Even you, my boy! You made several very big yawns! Did you know +that?" + +Philip laughed more than ever. "I didn't know it, my pet!" he +answered; "but I'm not surprised. Big yawns are the invariable +result of an 'at home.' Do you like Beau Lovelace?" + +"Very much," she answered readily. "But, Philip, I should not like +to have so many friends as Lady Winsleigh. I thought friends were +rare?" + +"So they are! She doesn't care for these people a bit. They are mere +acquaintances." + +"Whom does she care for then?" asked Thelma suddenly. "Of course I +mean after her husband. Naturally she loves him best." + +"Naturally," and Philip paused, adding, "she has her son--Ernest-- +he's a fine bright boy--he was not there to-night. You must see him +some day. Then I think her favorite friend is Mrs. Rush-Marvelle." + +"I do like that lady too," said Thelma. "She spoke very kindly to me +and kissed me." + +"Did she really!" and Philip smiled. "I think she was more to be +congratulated on taking the kiss than you in receiving it! But she's +not a bad old soul,--only a little too fond of money. But, Thelma, +whom do YOU care for most? You did tell me once, but I forget!" + +She turned her lovely face and star-like eyes upon him, and, meeting +his laughing look, she smiled. + +"How often must I tell you!" she murmured softly. "I do think you +will never tire of hearing! You know that it is you for whom I care +most, and that all the world would be empty to me without you! Oh, +my husband--my darling! do not make me try to tell you how much I +love you! I cannot--my heart is too full!" + +The rest of their drive homeward was very quiet--there are times +when silence is more eloquent than speech. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +"A small cloud, so slight as to be a mere speck on the fair blue +sky, was all the warning we received."--PLINY. + + +After that evening great changes came into Thelma's before peaceful +life. She had conquered her enemies, or so it seemed,--society threw +down all its barricades and rushed to meet her with open arms. +Invitations crowded upon her,--often she grew tired and bewildered +in the multiplicity of them all. London life wearied her,--she +preferred the embowered seclusion of Errington Manor, the dear old +house in green-wooded Warwickshire. But the "season" claimed her,-- +its frothy gaieties were deemed incomplete without her--no "at home" +was considered quite "the" thing unless she was present. She became +the centre of a large and ever-widening social circle,--painters, +poets, novelists, wits savants, and celebrities of high distinction +crowded her rooms, striving to entertain her as well as themselves +with that inane small talk and gossip too often practiced by the +wisest among us,--and thus surrounded, she began to learn many +puzzling and painful things of which in her old Norwegian life, she +had been happily ignorant. + +For instance, she had once imagined that all the men and women of +culture who followed the higher professions must perforce be a sort +of "Joyous Fraternity," superior to other mortals not so gifted,-- +and, under this erroneous impression, she was at first eager to know +some of the so-called "great" people who had distinguished +themselves in literature or the fine arts. She had fancied that they +must of necessity be all refined, sympathetic, large-hearted, and +noble-minded--alas! how grievously was she disappointed! She found, +to her sorrow, that the tree of modern Art bore but few wholesome +roses and many cankered buds--that the "Joyous Fraternity" were not +joyous at all--but, on the contrary, inclined to dyspepsia and +discontentment. She found that even poets, whom she had fondly +deemed were the angel-guides among the children of this earth,--were +most of them painfully conceited, selfish in aim and limited in +thought,--moreover, that they were often so empty of all true +inspiration, that they were actually able to hate and envy one +another with a sort of womanish spite and temper,--that novelists, +professing to be in sympathy with the heart of humanity, were no +sooner brought into contact one with another, than they plainly +showed by look, voice, and manner, the contempt they entertained for +each other's work,--that men of science were never so happy as when +trying to upset each other's theories;--that men of religious +combativeness were always on the alert to destroy each other's +creeds,--and that, in short, there was a very general tendency to +mean jealousies, miserable heart-burnings and utter weariness all +round. + +On one occasion, she, in the sweetest simplicity, invited two lady +authoresses of note to meet at one of her "at homes,". . . she +welcomed both the masculine-looking ladies with a radiant smile, and +introduced them, saying gently,--"You will be so pleased to know +each other!" But the stony stare, stiff nod, portentous sniff, and +scornful smile with which these two eminent females exchanged cold +greetings, were enough to daunt the most sympathetic hostess that +ever lived--and when they at once retired to different corners of +the room and sat apart with their backs turned to one another for +the remainder of the evening, their attitude was so uncompromising +that it was no wonder the gentle Thelma felt quite dismayed and +wretched at the utter failure of the rencontre. + +"They would NOT be sociable!" she afterwards complained to Lady +Winsleigh. "They TRIED to be as rude to each other as they could!" + +Lady Winsleigh laughed. "Of course!" she said. "What else DID you +expect! But if you want some fun, ask a young, pretty, and brilliant +authoress (there are a few such) to meet an old, ugly and dowdy one +(and there are many such), and watch the dowdy one's face! It will +be a delicious study of expression, I assure you!" + +But Thelma would not try this delicate experiment,--in fact, she +began rather to avoid literary people, with the exception of Beau +Lovelace. His was a genial, sympathetic nature, and, moreover, he +had a winning charm of manner which few could resist. He was not a +bookworm,--he was not, strictly speaking, a literary man,--and he +was entirely indifferent to public praise or blame. He was, as he +himself expressed it, "a servant and worshipper of literature," and +there is a wide gulf of difference between one who serves literature +for its own sake and one who uses it basely as a tool to serve +himself. + +But in all her new and varied experiences, perhaps Thelma was most +completely bewildered by the women she met. Her simple Norse beliefs +in the purity and gentleness of womanhood were startled and +outraged,--she could not understand London ladies at all. Some of +them seemed to have no idea beyond dress and show,--others looked +upon their husbands, the lawful protectors of their name and fame, +with easy indifference, as though they were mere bits of household +furniture,--others, having nothing better to do, "went in" for +spiritualism,--the low spiritualism that manifests itself in the +turning of tables and moving of side-boards--not the higher +spiritualism of an improved, perfected, and saint-like way of life-- +and these argued wildly on the theory of matter passing through +matter, to the extent of declaring themselves able to send a letter +or box through the wall without making a hole in it,--and this with +such obstinate gravity as made Thelma fear for their reason. Then +there were the women-atheists,--creatures who had voluntarily +crushed all the sweetness of the sex within them--foolish human +flowers without fragrance, that persistently turned away their faces +from the sunlight and denied its existence, preferring to wither, +profitless, on the dry stalk of their own theory;--there were the +"platform-women," unnatural products of an unnatural age,--there +were the great ladies of the aristocracy who turned with scorn from +a case of real necessity, and yet spent hundreds of pounds on +private theatricals wherein they might have the chance of displaying +themselves in extravagant costumes,--and there were the +"professional" beauties, who, if suddenly deprived of elegant attire +and face-cosmetics, turned out to be no beauties at all, but very +ordinary, unintelligent persons. + +"What is the exact meaning of the term, 'professional beauty'?" +Thelma had asked Beau Lovelace on one occasion. "I suppose it is +some very poor beautiful woman, who takes money for showing herself +to the public, and having her portraits sold in the shops? And who +is it that pays her?" + +Lovelace broke into a laugh. "Upon my word, Lady Errington,--you +have put the matter in a most original but indubitably correct +light! Who pays the 'professional beauty,' you ask? Well, in the +case of Mrs. Smith-Gresham, whom you met the other day, it is a +certain Duke who pays her to the tune of several thousands a year. +When he gets tired of her, or she of him, she'll find somebody else- +-or perhaps she'll go on the stage and swell the list of bad +amateurs. She'll get on somehow, as long as she can find a fool +ready to settle her dressmaker's bill." + +"I do not understand!" said Thelma,--and her fair brows drew +together in that pained grave look that was becoming rather frequent +with her now. + +And she began to ask fewer questions concerning the various strange +phases of social life that puzzled her,--why, for instance, +religious theorists made so little practical use of their theories,- +-why there were cloudy-eyed eccentrics who admired the faulty +drawing of Watts, and the common-place sentence-writing of Walt +Whitman,--why members of Parliament talked so much and did so +little,--why new poets, however nobly inspired, were never accepted +unless they had influential friends on the press,--why painters +always married their models or their cooks, and got heartily ashamed +of them afterwards,--and why people all round said so many things +they did not mean. And confused by the general insincerity, she +clung,--poor child!--to Lady Winsleigh, who had the tact to seem +what she was not,--and the cleverness to probe into Thelma's nature +and find out how translucently clear and pure it was--a perfect well +of sweet water, into which one drop of poison, or better still, +several drops, gradually and insidiously instilled, might in time +taint its flavor and darken its brightness. For if a woman have an +innocent, unsuspecting soul as delicate as the curled cup of a Nile +lily, the more easily will it droop and wither in the heated grasp +of a careless, cruel hand. And to this flower-crushing task Lady +Winsleigh set herself,--partly for malice pretense against +Errington, whose coldness to herself in past days had wounded her +vanity, and partly for private jealousy of Thelma's beauty and +attractiveness. + +Within a short time she had completely won the girl's confidence and +affection,--Sir Philip, forgetting his former suspicions of her, was +touched and disarmed by the attachment and admiration she openly +displayed towards his young wife,--she and Thelma were constantly +seen together, and Mrs. Rush-Marvelle, far-sighted as she generally +was, often sighed doubtfully and rubbed her nose in perplexity as +she confessed she "couldn't quite understand Clara." But Mrs. Rush- +Marvelle had her hands full of other matters,--she was aiding and +abetting Marcia Van Clupp to set traps for that mild mouse Lord +Masherville,--and she was too much absorbed in this difficult and +delicate business to attend to anything else just then. Otherwise, +it is possible she might have scented danger for Thelma's peace of +mind, and being good-natured, might have warded it off before it +approached too closely,--but, like policeman who are never within +call when wanted, so friends are seldom at hand when their influence +might be of real benefit. + +The Van Clupps were people Thelma could not get on with at all--she +tried to do so because Mrs. Rush-Marvelle had assured her they were +"charming"-and she liked Mrs. Marvelle sufficiently well to be +willing to please her. But, in truth, these rich and vulgar Yankees +seemed to her mind less to be esteemed than the peasants of the +Altenfjord, who in many instances possessed finer tact and breeding +than old Van Clupp, the man of many dollars, whose father had been +nothing but a low navvy, but of whom he spoke now with smirking +pride as a real descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers. An odd thing it +is, by the way, how fond some Americans are of tracing back their +ancestry to these virtuous old gentlemen! The Van Clupps were of +course not the best types of their country--they were of that class +who, because they have money, measure everything by the money- +standard, and hold even a noble poverty in utter contempt. Poor Van +Clupp! It was sometimes pitiable to see him trying to be a +gentleman--"going in" for "style"--to an excess that was ludicrous,- +-cramming his house with expensive furniture like an upholsterer's +show-room,--drinking his tea out of pure Sevres, with a lofty +ignorance of its beauty and value,--dressing his wife and daughter +like shilling fashion-plates, and having his portrait taken in +precisely the same attitude as that assumed by the Duke of +Wrigglesbury when his Grace sat to the same photographer! It was +delicious to hear him bragging of his pilgrim ancestor,--while in +the same breath he would blandly sneer at certain "poor gentry" who +could trace back their lineage to Coeur de Lion! But because the +Erringtons were rich as well as titled persons, Van Clupp and his +belongings bent the servile knee before them, flattering Thelma with +that ill-judged eagerness and zealous persistency which distinguish +inborn vulgarity, and which, far from pleasing her, annoyed and +embarrassed her because she could not respond sincerely to such +attentions. + +There were many others too, not dollar-crusted Americans, whose +excessive adulation and ceaseless compliment vexed the sincere, +frank spirit of the girl,--a spirit fresh and pure as the wind +blowing over her own Norse mountains. One of these was Sir Francis +Lennox, that fashionable young man of leisure,--and she had for him +an instinctive, though quite unreasonable aversion. He was courtesy +itself--he spared no pains to please her. Yet she felt as if his +basilisk brown eyes were always upon her,--he seemed to be ever at +hand, ready to watch over her in trifles, such as the passing of a +cup of tea, the offering of her wrap,--the finding of a chair,--the +holding of a fan,-he was always on the alert, like a remarkably +well-trained upper servant. She could not, without rudeness, reject +such unobtrusive, humble services,--and yet--they rendered her +uncomfortable, though she did not quite know why. She ventured to +mention her feeling concerning him to her friend Lady Winsleigh, who +heard her timid remarks with a look on her face that was not quite +pleasant. + +"Poor Sir Francis!" her ladyship said with a slight, mocking laugh. +"He's never happy unless he plays puppy-dog! Don't mind him, Thelma! +He won't bite, I assure you,--he means no harm. It's only his little +way of making himself agreeable!" + +George Lorimer, during this particular "London season," fled the +field of action, and went to Paris to stay with Pierre Duprez. He +felt that it was dangerous to confront the fair enemy too often, for +he knew in his own honest heart that his passion for Thelma +increased each time he saw her--so, he avoided her. She missed him +very much from her circle of intimates, and often went to see his +mother, Mrs. Lorimer, one of the sweetest old ladies in the world,-- +who had at once guessed her son's secret, but, like a prudent dame, +kept it to herself. There were few young women as pretty and +charming as old Mrs. Lorimer, with her snow-white parted hair and +mild blue eyes, and voice as cheery as the note of a thrush in +spring-time. After Lady Winsleigh, Thelma liked her best of all her +new friends, and was fond of visiting her quiet little house in +Kensington,--for it was very quiet, and seemed like a sheltered +haven of rest from the great rush of frivolity and folly in which +the fashionable world delighted. + +And Thelma was often now in need of rest. As the season drew towards +its close, she found herself strangely tired and dispirited. The +life she was compelled to lead was all unsuited to her nature--it +was artificial and constrained,--and she was often unhappy. Why? +Why, indeed! She did her best,--but she made enemies everywhere. +Again, why? Because she had a most pernicious,--most unpleasant +habit of telling the truth. Like Socrates, she seemed to say--"If +any man should appear to me not to possess virtue, but to pretend +that he does, I shall reproach him." This she expressed silently in +face, voice, and manner,--and, like Socrates, she might have added +that she went about "perceiving, indeed, and grieving and alarmed +that she was making herself odious." For she discovered, by degrees, +that many people looked strangely upon her--that others seemed +afraid of her--and she continually heard that she was considered +"eccentric." So she became more reserved--even cold,--she was +content to let others argue about trifles, and air their whims and +follies without offering an opinion on any side. + +And by-and-by the first shadow began to sweep over the fairness of +her married life. It happened at a time when she and her husband +were not quite so much together,--society and its various claims had +naturally separated them a little, but now a question of political +ambition separated them still more. Some well-intentioned friends +had persuaded Sir Philip to stand for Parliament--and this idea no +sooner entered his head, than he decided with impulsive ardor that +he had been too long without a "career,"--and a "career" he must +have in order to win distinction for his wife's sake. Therefore, +summoning his secretary, Neville to his aid, he plunged headlong +into the seething, turgid waters of English politics, and shut +himself up in his library day after day, studying blue-books, +writing and answering letters, and drawing up addresses,--and with +the general proneness of the masculine mind to attend to one thing +only at a time, he grew so absorbed in his work that his love for +Thelma, though all unchanged and deep as ever, fell slightly into +the background of his thoughts. Not that he neglected her,--he +simply concerned himself more with other things. So it happened that +a certain indefinable sense of loss weighed upon her,--a vague, +uncomprehended solitude began to encompass her,--a solitude even +more keenly felt when she was surrounded by friends than when she +was quite alone,--and as the sweet English June drew to its end, she +grew languid and listless, and her blue eyes often filled with +sudden tears. Her little watch-dog, Britta, began to notice this, +and to wonder concerning the reason of her mistress's altered looks. + +"It is this dreadful London," thought Britta. "So hot and stifling-- +there's no fresh air for her. And all this going about to balls and +parties and shows--no wonder she is tired out!" + +But it was something more than mere fatigue that made Thelma's eyes +look sometimes so anxious, so gravely meditative and earnest. One +day she seemed so much abstracted and lost in painful musings that +Britta's loving heart ached, and she watched her for some moments +without venturing to say a word. At last she spoke out bravely-- + +"Froken!"--she paused,--Thelma seemed not to hear her. "Froken!--has +anything vexed or grieved you today?" + +Thelma started nervously. "Vexed me--grieved me?" she repeated. "No, +Britta--why do you ask?" + +"You look very tired, dear Froken," continued Britta gently. "You +are not as bright as you were when we first came to London." + +Thelma's lips quivered. "I--I am not well, Britta," she murmured, +and suddenly her self-control gave way, and she broke into tears. In +an instant Britta was kneeling by her, coaxing and caressing her, +and calling her by every endearing name she could think of, while +she wisely forbore from asking any more questions. Presently her +sobs grew calmer,--she rested her fair head against Britta's +shoulder and smiled faintly. At that moment a light tap was heard +outside, and a voice called-- + +"Thelma! Are you there?" + +Britta opened the door, and Sir Philip entered hurriedly and +smiling--but stopped short to survey his wife in dismay. + +"Why, my darling!" he exclaimed distressfully. "Have you been +crying?" + +Here the discreet Britta retired. + +Thelma sprang to her husband and nestled in his arms. + +"Philip, do not mind it," she murmured. "I felt a little sad--it is +nothing! But tell me--you DO love me? You will never tire of me? You +have always loved me, I am sure?" + +He raised her face gently with one hand, and looked at her in +surprise. + +"Thelma--what strange questions from YOU! Love you? Is not every +beat of my heart for you? Are you not my life, my joy--my everything +in this world?" And he pressed her passionately in his arms and +kissed her. + +"You have never loved any one else so much?" she whispered, half +abashed. + +"Never!" he answered readily. "What makes you ask such a thing?" + +She was silent. He looked down at her flushing cheeks and tear-wet +lashes attentively. + +"You are fanciful to-day, my pet," he said at last. "You've been +tiring yourself too much. You must rest. You'd better not go to the +Brilliant Theatre to-night--it's only a burlesque, and is sure to be +vulgar and noisy. We'll stop at home and spend a quiet evening +together-shall we?" + +She raised her eyes half wistfully and smiled. "I should like that +very, very much, Philip!" she murmured; "but you know we did promise +Clara to go with her to-night. And as we are so soon to leave London +and return to Warwickshire, I should not like to disappoint her." + +"You are very fond of Clara?" he asked suddenly. + +"Very!" She paused and sighed slightly. "She is so kind and clever-- +much more clever than I can ever be--and she knows many things about +the world which I do not. And she admires you so much, Philip!" + +"Does she indeed?" Philip laughed and colored a little. "Very good +of her, I'm sure! And so you'd really like to go to the Brilliant +to-night? " + +"I think so," she said hesitatingly. "Clara says it will be very +amusing. And you must remember how much I enjoyed 'Faust' and +'Hamlet.'" + +Errington smiled. "You'll find the Brilliant performance very +different to either," he said amusedly. "You don't know what a +burlesque is like!" + +"Then I must be instructed," replied Thelma, smiling also, "I need +to learn many things. I am very ignorant!" + +"Ignorant!" and he swept aside with a caressing touch the clustering +hair from her broad, noble brow. "My darling, you possess the +greatest wisdom--the wisdom of innocence. I would not change it for +all the learning of the sagest philosphers!" + +"You really mean that?" she asked half timidly. + +"I really mean that!" he answered fondly. "Little sceptic! As if I +would ever say anything to you that I did NOT mean! I shall be glad +when we're out of London and back at the Manor--then I shall have +you all to myself again--for a time, at least." + +She raised her eyes full of sudden joy,--all traces of her former +depression had disappeared. + +"And I shall have YOU!" she said gladly. "And we shall not +disappoint Lady Winsleigh to-night, Philip--I am not tired--and I +shall be pleased to go to the theatre." + +"All right!" responded Philip cheerfully. "So let it be! Only I +don't believe you'll like the piece,--though it certainly won't make +you cry. Yet I doubt if it will make you laugh, either. However, it +will be a new experience for you." + +And a new experience it decidedly was,--an experience, too, which +brought some strange and perplexing results to Thelma of which she +never dreamed. + +She went to the Brilliant, accompanied by Lady Winsleigh and her +husband,--Neville, the secretary, making the fourth in their box; +and during the first and second scene of the performance the stage +effects were so pretty and the dancing so graceful that she nearly +forgot the bewildered astonishment she had at first felt at the +extreme scantiness of apparel worn by the ladies of the ballet. They +represented birds, bees, butterflies, and the other winged denizens +of the forest-world,--and the tout-ensemble was so fairy-like and +brilliant with swift movement, light, and color that the eye was too +dazzled and confused to note objectionable details. But in the third +scene, when a plump, athletic young woman leaped on the stage in the +guise of a humming-bird, with a feather tunic so short that it was a +mere waist-belt of extra width,--a flesh-colored bodice about three +inches high, and a pair of blue wings attached to her fat shoulders, +Thelma started and half rose from her seat in dismay, while a hot +tide of color crimsoned her cheeks, She looked nervously at her +husband. + +"I do not think this is pleasant to see," she said in a low tone. +"Would it not be best to go away? I--I think I would rather be at +home." + +Lady Winsleigh heard and smiled,--a little mocking smile. + +"Don't be silly, child!" she said. "If you leave the theatre just +now you'll have every one staring at you. That woman's an immense +favorite--she is the success of the piece. She's got more diamonds +than either you or I." + +Thelma regarded her friend with a sort of grave wonder,--but said +nothing in reply. If Lady Winsleigh liked the performance and wished +to remain, why--then politeness demanded that Thelma should not +interfere with her pleasure by taking an abrupt leave. So she +resumed her seat, but withdrew herself far behind the curtain of the +box, in a corner where the stage was almost invisible to her eyes, +Her husband bent over her and whispered-- + +"I'll take you home if you wish it, dear! only say the word." + +She shook her head. + +"Clara enjoys it!" she answered somewhat plaintively. "We must +stay." + +Philip was about to address Lady Winsleigh on the subject, when +suddenly Neville touched him on the arm. + +"Can I speak to you alone for a moment, Sir Philip?" he said in a +strange, hoarse whisper. "Outside the box--away from the ladies--a +matter of importance!" + +He looked as if he were about to faint. He gasped rather than spoke +these words; his face was white as death, and his eyes had a +confused and bewildered stare. + +"Certainly!" answered Philip promptly, though not without an accent +of surprise,--and, excusing their absence briefly to his wife and +Lady Winsleigh, they left the box together. Meanwhile the well-fed +"Humming-Bird" was capering extravagantly before the footlights, +pointing her toe in the delighted face of the stalls and singing in +a in a loud, coarse voice the following refined ditty-- + + "Oh my ducky, oh my darling, oh my duck, duck, duck! + If you love me you must have a little pluck, pluck, pluck! + Come and put your arms around me, kiss me once, twice, thrice, + For kissing may be naughty, but, by Jingo! it is nice! + Once, twice, thrice! + Nice, nice, nice! + Bliss, bliss, bliss' + Kiss, kiss, kiss! + Kissing may be naughty, but it's nice!" + +There were several verses in this graceful poem, and each one was +hailed with enthusiastic applause. The "Humming-Bird" was +triumphant, and when her song was concluded she executed a startling +pas-seul full of quaint and astonishing surprises, reaching her +superbest climax, when she backed off the stage on one portly leg,-- +kicking the other in regular time to the orchestra. Lady Winsleigh +laughed, and leaning towards Thelma, who still sat in her retired +corner, said with a show of kindness-- + +"You dear little goose! You must get accustomed to this kind of +thing--it takes with the men immensely. Why, even your wonderful +Philip has gone down behind the scenes with Neville--you may be sure +of that!" + +The startled, pitiful astonishment in the girl's face might have +touched a less callous heart than Lady Winsleigh's,--but her +ladyship was prepared for it and only smiled. + +"Gone behind the scenes! To see that dreadful woman!" exclaimed +Thelma in a low pained tone. "Oh no, Clara! He would not do such a +thing. Impossible!" + +"Well, my dear, then where is he? He has been gone quite ten +minutes. Look at the stalls--all the men are out of them! I tell you +Violet Vere draws everybody--of the male sex after her! At the end +of all her 'scenes' she has a regular reception--for men only--of +course! Ladies not admitted!" And Clara Winsleigh laughed. "Don't +look so shocked for heaven's sake, Thelma,--you don't want your +husband to be a regular nincompoop! He must have his amusements as +well as other people. I believe you want him to be like a baby, tied +to your apron-string! You'll find that an awful mistake,--he'll get +tired to death of you, sweet little Griselda though you are!" + +Thelma's face grew very pale, and her hand closed more tightly on +the fan she held. + +"You have said that so very, very often lately, Clara!" she +murmured. "You seem so sure that he will get tired--that all men get +tired. I do not think you know Philip--he is not like any other +person I have ever met. And why should he go behind the scenes to +such a person as Violet Vere--" + +At that moment the box-door opened with a sharp click, and Errington +entered alone. He looked disturbed and anxious. + +"Neville is not well," he said abruptly, addressing his wife. "I've +sent him home. He wouldn't have been able to sit this thing out." +And he glanced half angrily towards the stage--the curtain had just +gone up again and displayed the wondrous Violet Vere still in her +"humming-bird" character, swinging on the branch of a tree and +(after the example of all humming-birds) smoking a cigar with +brazen-faced tranquillity. + +"I am sorry he is ill," said Thelma gently. "That is why you were so +long away?" + +"Was I long?" returned Philip somewhat absently. "I didn't know it. +I went to ask a question behind the scenes." + +Lady Winsleigh coughed and glanced at Thelma, whose eyes dropped +instantly. + +"I suppose you saw Violet Vere?" asked Clara. + +"Yes, I saw her," he replied briefly. He seemed irritable and vexed- +-moreover, decidedly impatient. Presently be said-- + +"Lady Winsleigh, would you mind very much if we left this place and +went home? I'm rather anxious about Neville--he's had a shock. +Thelma doesn't care a bit about this piece, I know, and if you are +not very much absorbed--" + +Lady Winsleigh rose instantly, with her usual ready grace. + +"My dear Sir Philip!" she said sweetly. "As if I would not, do +anything to oblige you! Let us go by all means! These burlesques ARE +extremely fatiguing!" + +He seamed relieved by her acquiescence--and smiled that rare sweet +smile of his, which had once played such havoc with her ladyship's +sensitive feelings. They left the theatre, and were soon on their +way home, though Thelma was rather silent during the drive. They +dropped Lady Winsleigh at her own door, and after they had bidden +her a cordial good night, and were going on again towards home, +Philip, turning towards his wife, and catching sight of her face by +the light of a street-lamp, was struck by her extreme paleness and +weary look. + +"You are very tired, my darling, I fear?" he inquired, tenderly +encircling her with one arm. "Lean your head on my shoulder--so!" + +She obeyed, and her hand trembled a little as he took and held it in +his own warm, strong clasp. + +"We shall soon be home!" he added cheerily. "And I think we must +have no more theatre-going this season. The heat and noise and glare +are too much for you." + +"Philip," said Thelma suddenly. "Did you really go behind the scenes +to-night?" + + "Yes, I did," he answered readily. "I was obliged to go on a matter +of business--a very disagreeable and unpleasant matter too." + +"And what was it?" she asked timidly, yet hopefully. + +"My pet, I can't tell you! I wish I could! It's a secret I'm bound +not to betray--a secret which involves the name of another person +who'd be wretched if I were to mention it to you. There,--don't let +us talk about it any more!" + +"Very well, Philip," said Thelma resignedly,--but though she smiled, +a sudden presentiment of evil depressed her. The figure of the +vulgar, half-clothed, painted creature known as Violet Vere rose up +mockingly before her eyes,--and the half-scornful, half-jesting +words of Lady Winsleigh rang persistently in her ears. + +On reaching home, Philip went straight to Neville's little study and +remained with him in earnest conversation for a long time--while +Thelma went to bed, and lay restless among her pillows, puzzling her +brain with strange forebodings and new and perplexing ideas, till +fatigue overpowered her, and she fell asleep with a few tear-drops +wet on her lashes. And that night Philip wondered why his sweet wife +talked so plaintively in her sleep,--though he smiled as he listened +to the drift of those dove-like murmurings. + +"No one knows how my boy loves me," sighed the dreaming voice. "No +one in all the world! How should he tire? Love can never tire!" + +Meanwhile, Lady Winsleigh, in the seclusion of her own boudoir, +penned a brief note to Sir Francis Lennox as follows-- + +"DEAR OLD LENNIE," + +"I saw you in the stalls at the theatre this evening, though you +pretended not to see me. What a fickle creature you are! not that I +mind in the very least. The virtuous Bruce-Errington left his +saintly wife and me to talk little platitudes together, while he, +decorously accompanied by his secretary, went down to pay court to +Violet Vere. How stout she is getting! Why don't you men advise her +to diet herself? I know you also went behind the scenes--of course, +you ARE an ami intime--promising boy you are, to be sure! Come and +lunch with me to-morrow, if you're not too lazy." + +"Yours ever, CLARA." + +She gave this missive to her maid, Louise Renaud, to post,--that +faithful attendant took it first to her own apartment where she +ungummed the envelope neatly by the aid of hot water, and read every +word of it. This was not an exceptional action of hers,--all the +letters received and sent by her mistress were subjected to the same +process,--even those that were sealed with wax she had a means of +opening in such a manner that it was impossible to detect that they +had been tampered with. + +She was a very clever French maid was Louise,--one of the cleverest +of her class. Fond of mischief, ever suspicious, always on the alert +for evil, utterly unscrupulous and malicious, she was an altogether +admirable attendant for a lady of rank and fashion, her skill as a +coiffeur and needle-woman always obtaining for her the wages she so +justly deserved. When will wealthy women reared in idleness and +luxury learn the folly of keeping a trained spy attached to their +persons?--a spy whose pretended calling is merely to arrange dresses +and fripperies (half of which she invariably steals), but whose real +delight is to take note of all her mistress's incomings and +outgoings, tempers and tears--to watch her looks, her smiles and +frowns,--and to start scandalous gossip concerning her in the +servants' hall, from whence it gradually spreads to the society +newspapers--for do you think these estimable and popular journals +are never indebted for their "reliable" information to the "honest" +statements of discharged footman or valet? Briggs, for instance, had +tried his hand at a paragraph or two concerning the "Upper Ten," and +with the aid of a dictionary, had succeeded in expressing himself +quite smartly, though in ordinary conversation his h's were often +lacking or superfluous, and his grammar doubtful. Whether he +persuaded any editor to accept his literary efforts is quite another +matter--a question to which the answer must remain for ever +enveloped in mystery,--but if he DID appear in print (it is only an +if!) he must have been immensely gratified to consider that his +statements were received with gusto by at least half aristocratic +London, and implicitly believed as having emanated from the "best +authorities." And Louise Renaud having posted her mistress's letter +at last, went down to visit Briggs in his private pantry, and to ask +him a question. + +"Tell me," she said rapidly, with her tight, prim smile. "You read +the papers--you will know. What lady is that of the theatres--Violet +Vere?" + +Briggs laid down the paper he was perusing and surveyed her with a +superior air. + +"What, Vi?" he exclaimed with a toy wink. "Vi, of the Hopperer-Bull? +You've 'erd of 'er surely, Mamzelle? No? There's not a man (as is +worth calling a man) about town, as don't know 'ER! Dukes, Lords, +an' Royal 'Ighnesses--she's the style for 'em! Mag-ni-ficent +creetur! all legs and arms! I won't deny but wot I 'ave an +admiration for 'er myself--I bought a 'arf-crown portrait of 'er +quite recently." And Briggs rose slowly and searched in a mysterious +drawer winch he invariably kept locked. + +"'Ere she is, as large as life, Mamzelle," he continued, exhibiting +a "promenade" photograph of the actress in question. "There's a neck +for you! There's form! Vi, my dear, I saloot you!" and he pressed a +sounding kiss on the picture--"you're one in a million! Smokes and +drinks like a trooper, Mamzelle!" he added admiringly, as Louise +Renaud studied the portrait attentively. "But with all 'er +advantages, you would not call 'er a lady. No--that term would be +out of the question. She is wot we men would call an enchantin' +female!" And Briggs kissed the tips of his fingers and waved them in +the air as he had seen certain foreign gentlemen do when +enthusiastic. + +"I comprehend," said the French maid, nodding emphatically. "Then, +if she is so, what makes that proud Seigneur Bruce-Errington visit +her?" Here she shook her finger at Briggs. "And leave his beautiful +lady wife, to go and see her?" Another shake. "And that MISERABLE +Sieur Lennox to go also? Tell me that!" She folded her arms, like +Napoleon at St. Helena, and smiled again that smile which was +nothing but a sneer. Briggs rubbed his nose contemplatively. + +"Little Francis can go ennywheres," he said at last. "He's laid out +a good deal of tin on Vi and others of 'er purfession. You cannot +make enny-think of that young feller but a cad. I would not accept +'im for my pussonal attendant. No! But Sir Philip Bruce-Errington--" +He paused, then continued, "Air you sure of your facts, Mamzelle?" + +Mamzelle was so sure, that the bow on her cap threatened to come off +with the determined wagging of her head. + +"Well," resumed Briggs, "Sir Philip may, like hothers, consider it +'the thing' you know, to 'ang on as it were to Vi. But I HAD thought +'im superior to it. Ah! poor 'uman natur, as 'Uxley says!" and +Briggs sighed." Lady Errington is a sweet creetur, Mamzelle--a VERY +sweet creetur! HAS a rule I find the merest nod of my 'ed a +sufficient saloot to a woman of the aristocracy--but for 'ER, +Mamzelle, I never fail to show 'er up with a court bow!" And +involuntarily Briggs bowed then and there in his most elegant +manner. Mamzelle tightened her thin lips a little and waved her hand +expressively. + +"She is an angel of beauty!" she said, "and Miladi Winsleigh is +jealous--ah, Dieu! jealous to death of her! She is innocent too-- +like a baby--and she worships her husband. That is an error! To +worship a man is a great mistake--she will find it so. Men are not +to be too much loved--no, no!" + +Briggs smiled in superb self-consciousness. "Well, well! I will not +deny, Mamzelle, that it spoils us," he said complacently. "It +certainly spoils us! 'When lovely woman stoops to folly,'--the hold, +hold story!" + +"You will r-r-r-emember," said Mamzelle, suddenly stepping up very +close to him and speaking with a strong accent, "what I have said +to-night! Monsieur Briggs, you will r-remember! There will be mees- +cheef! Yes--there will be mees-cheef to Sieur Bruce-Errington, and +when there is,--I--I, Louise Renaud--I know who ees at the bottom of +eet!" + +So saying, with a whirl of her black silk dress and a flash of her +white muslin apron, she disappeared. Briggs, left alone, sauntered +to a looking-glass hanging on the wall and studied with some +solicitude a pimple that had recently appeared on his clean-shaven +face. + +"Mischief!" he soliloquized. "I des-say! Whenever a lot of women +gets together, there's sure to be mischief. Dear creeturs! They love +it like the best Clicquot. Sprightly young pusson is Mamzelle. Knows +who's at the bottom of 'eet,' does she! Well--she's not the only one +as knows the same thing. As long as doors 'as cracks and key'oles, +it ain't in the least difficult to find out wot goes on inside boo- +dwars and drorin'-rooms. And 'ighly interestin' things one 'ears now +and then--'ighly interestin'!" + +And Briggs leered suavely at his own reflection, and then resumed +the perusal of his paper. He was absorbed in the piquant, highly +flavored details of a particularly disgraceful divorce case, and he +was by no means likely to disturb himself from his refined enjoyment +for any less important reason than the summons of Lord Winsleigh's +bell, which rang so seldom that, when it did, he made it a point of +honor to answer it immediately, for, as he said-- + +"His lordship knows wot is due to me, and I knows wot is due to 'im- +-therefore it 'appens we are able to ekally respect each other!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + + "If thou wert honorable, + Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not + For such an end thou seek'st; as base, as strange. + Thou wrong'st a gentleman who is as far + From thy report, as thou from honor." + + Cymbeline. + + +Summer in Shakespeare Land! Summer in the heart of England--summer +in wooded Warwickshire,--a summer brilliant, warm, radiant with +flowers, melodious with the songs of the heaven--aspiring larks, and +the sweet, low trill of the forest-hidden nightingales. Wonderful +and divine it is to hear the wild chorus of nightingales that sing +beside Como in the hot languorous nights of an Italian July-- +wonderful to hear them maddening themselves with love and music, and +almost splitting their slender throats with the bursting bubbles of +burning song,--but there is something, perhaps, more dreamily +enchanting still,--to hear them warbling less passionately but more +plaintively, beneath the drooping leafage of those grand old trees, +some of which may have stretched their branches in shadowy +benediction over the sacred head of the grandest poet in the world. +Why travel to Athens,--why wander among the Ionian Isles for love of +the classic ground? Surely, though the clear-brained old Greeks were +the founders of all noble literature, they have reached their +fulminating point in the English Shakespeare,--and the Warwickshire +lanes, decked simply with hawthorn and sweet-briar roses, through +which Mary Arden walked leading her boy-angel by the hand, are +sacred as any portion of that earth once trodden by the feet of +Homer and Plato. + +So, at least, Thelma thought, when, released from the bondage of +London social life, she found herself once more at Errington Manor, +then looking its loveliest, surrounded with a green girdle of oak +and beech, and set off by the beauty of velvety lawns and terraces, +and rose-gardens in full bloom. The depression from which she had +suffered fell away from her completely--she grew light-hearted as a +child, and flitted from room to room, singing to herself for pure +gladness. Philip was with her all day now, save for a couple of +hours in the forenoon which he devoted to letter-writing in +connection with his Parliamentary aspirations,--and Philip was +tender, adoring and passionate as lovers may be, but as husbands +seldom are. They took long walks together through the woods,--they +often rambled across the fragrant fields to Anne Hathaway's cottage, +which was not very far away, and sitting down in some sequestered +nook, Philip would pull from his pocket a volume of the immortal +Plays, and read passages aloud in his fine mellow voice, while +Thelma, making posies of the meadow flowers, listened entranced. +Sometimes, when he was in a more business-like humor, he would bring +out Cicero's Orations, and after pondering over them for a while +would talk very grandly about the way in which he meant to speak in +Parliament. + +"They want dash and fire there," he said, "and these qualities must +be united with good common sense. In addressing the House, you see, +Thelma, one must rouse and interest the men--not bore them. You +can't expect fellows to pass a Bill if you've made them long for +their beds all the time you've been talking about it." + +Thelma smiled and glanced over his shoulder at "Cicero's Orations." + +"And do you wish to speak to them like Cicero, my boy?" she said +gently. "But I do not think you will find that possible. Because +when Cicero spoke it was in a different, age and to very different +people--people who were glad to learn how to be wise and brave. But +if you were Cicero himself, do you think you would be able to +impress the English Parliament?" + +"Why not, dear?" asked Errington with some fervor. "I believe that +men, taken as men, pur et simple, are the same in all ages, and are +open to the same impressions. Why should not modern Englishmen be +capable of receiving the same lofty ideas as the antique Romans, and +acting upon them?" + +"Ah, do not ask ME why," said Thelma, with a plaintive little shake +of her head--"for _I_ cannot tell you! But remember how many members +of Parliament we did meet in London--and where were their lofty +ideas? Philip, had they any ideas at all, do you think? There was +that very fat gentleman who is a brewer,--well, to hear him talk, +would you not think all England was for the making of beer? And he +does not care for the country unless it continues to consume his +beer! It was to that very man I said something about HAMLET, and he +told me he had no interest for such nonsense as Shakespeare and +play-going--his time was taken up at the 'OUSE.' You see, he is a +member of Parliament--yet it is evident he neither knows the +language nor the literature of his country! And there must be many +like him, otherwise so ignorant a person would not hold such a +position--and for such men, what would be the use of a Cicero?" + +Philip leaned back against the trunk of the tree under which they +were sitting, and laughed. + +"You may be right, Thelma,--I dare say you are. There's certainly +too much beer represented in the House--I admit that. But, after +all, trade is the great moving-spring of national prosperity,--and +it would hardly be fair to refuse seats to the very men who help to +keep the country going." + +"I do not see that," said Thelma gravely,--"if those men are +ignorant, why should they have a share in so important a thing as +Government? They may know all about beer, and wool, and iron,--but +perhaps they can only judge what is good for themselves, not what is +best for the whole country, with all its rich and poor. I do think +that only the wisest scholars and most intelligent persons should be +allowed to help in the ruling of a great nation." + +"But the people choose their own rulers," remarked Errington +reflectively. + +"Ah, the poor people!" sighed Thelma. "They know so very little,-- +and they are taught so badly! I think they never do quite understand +what they do want,--they are the same in all histories,--like little +children, they get bewildered and frightened in any trouble, and the +wisest heads are needed to think for them. It is, indeed, most cruel +to make them puzzle out all difficulty for themselves!" + +"What a little sage you are, my pet!" laughed Philip, taking her +hand on which the marriage-ring and its accompanying diamond +circlet, glistened brilliantly in the warm sunlight. "Do you mean to +go in for politics?" + +She shook her head. "No, indeed! That is not woman's work at all. +The only way in which I think about such things, is that I feel the +people cannot all be wise,--and that it seems a pity the wisest and +greatest in the land should not be chosen to lead them rightly." + +"And so under the circumstances, you think it's no use my trying to +POSE as a Cicero?" asked her husband amusedly. She laughed--with a +very tender cadence in her laughter. + +"It would not be worth your while, my boy," she said "You know I +have often told you that I do not see any great distinction in being +a member of Parliament at all. What will you do? You will talk to +the fat brewer perhaps, and he will contradict you--then other +people will get up and talk and contradict each other,--and so it +will go on for days and days--meanwhile the country remains exactly +as it was, neither better nor worse,--and all the talking does no +good! It is better to be out of it,--here together, as we are to- +day." + +And she raised her dreamy blue eyes to the sheltering canopy of +green leaves that overhung them--leaves thick-clustered and dewy, +through which the dazzling sky peeped in radiant patches. Philip +looked at her,--the rapt expression of her upward gaze,--the calm, +untroubled sweetness of her fair face,--were such as might well have +suited one of Raffaelle's divinest angels. His heart beat quickly-- +he drew closer to her, and put his arm round her. + +"Your eyes are looking at the sky, Thelma," he whispered. "Do you +know what that is? Heaven looking into heaven! And do you know which +of the two heavens I prefer?" She smiled, and turning, met his +ardent gaze with one of equal passion and tenderness. + +"Ah, you DO know!" he went on, softly kissing the side of her slim +white throat. "I thought you couldn't possibly make a mistake!" He +rested his head against her shoulder, and after a minute or two of +lazy comfort, he resumed. "You are not ambitious, my Thelma! You +don't seem to care whether your husband distinguishes himself in the +'Ouse,' as our friend the brewer calls it, or not. In fact, I don't +believe you care for anything save--love! Am I not right, my wife?" + +A wave of rosy color flushed her transparent skin, and her eyes +filled with an earnest, almost pathetic languor. + +"Surely of all things in the world," she said in a low tone,--"Love +is best?" + +To this he made prompt answer, though not in words--his lips +conversed with hers, in that strange, sweet language which, though +unwritten, is everywhere comprehensible,--and then they left their +shady resting-place and sauntered homeward hand in hand through the +warm fields fragrant with wild thyme and clover. + +Many happy days passed thus with these lovers--for lovers they still +were. Marriage had for once fulfilled its real and sacred meaning-- +it had set Love free from restraint, and had opened all the gateways +of the only earthly paradise human hearts shall ever know,--the +paradise of perfect union and absolute sympathy with the one thing +beloved on this side eternity. + +The golden hours fled by all too rapidly,--and towards the close of +August there came an interruption to their felicity. Courtesy had +compelled Bruce-Errington and his wife to invite a few friends down +to visit them at the Manor before the glory of the summer-time was +past,--and first among the guests came Lord and Lady Winsleigh and +their bright boy, Ernest. Her ladyship's maid, Louise Renaud, of +course, accompanied her ladyship,--and Briggs was also to the fore +in the capacity of Lord Winsleigh's personal attendant. After these, +George Lorimer arrived--he had avoided the Erringtons all the +season,--but he could not very well refuse the pressing invitation +now given him without seeming churlish,--then came Beau Lovelace, +for a few days only, as with the commencement of September he would +be off as usual to his villa on the Lago di Como. Sir Francis +Lennox, too, made his appearance frequently in a casual sort of way- +-he "ran down," to use his own expression, now and then, and made +himself very agreeable, especially to men, by whom he was well liked +for his invariable good-humor and extraordinary proficiency in all +sports and games of skill. Another welcome visitor was Pierre +Duprez, lively and sparkling as ever,--he came from Paris to pass a +fortnight with his "cher Phil-eep," and make merriment for the whole +party. His old admiration for Britta had by no means decreased,--he +was fond of waylaying that demure little maiden on her various +household errands, and giving her small posies of jessamine and +other sweet-scented blossoms to wear just above the left-hand corner +of her apron-bib, close to the place where the heart is supposed to +be. Olaf Guldmar had been invited to the Manor at this period,-- +Errington wrote many urgent letters, and so did Thelma, entreating +him to come,--for nothing would have pleased Sir Philip more than to +have introduced the fine old Odin worshipper among his fashionable +friends, and to have heard him bluntly and forcibly holding his own +among them, putting their feint and languid ways of life to shame by +his manly, honest, and vigorous utterance. But Guldmar had only just +returned to the Altenfjord after nearly a year's absence, and his +hands were too full of work for him to accept his son-in-law's +invitation. + +"The farm lands have a waste and dreary look," he wrote, "though I +let them to a man who should verily have known how to till the soil +trodden by his fathers--and as for the farmhouse, 'twas like a +hollow shell that has lain long on the shore and become brown and +brittle--for thou knowest no human creature has entered there since +we departed. However, Valdemar Svensen and I, for sake of company, +have resolved to dwell together in it, and truly we have nearly +settled down to the peaceful contemplation of our past days,--so +Philip, and thou, my child Thelma, trouble not concerning me. I am +hale and hearty, the gods be thanked,--and may live on in hope to +see you both next spring or summer-tide. Your happiness keeps this +old man young--so grudge me not the news of your delights wherein I +am myself delighted." + +One familiar figure was missing from the Manor household,--that of +Edward Neville, Since the night at the Brilliant, when he had left +the theatre so suddenly, and gone home on the plea of illness, he +had never been quite the same man. He looked years older--he was +strangely nervous and timid--and he shrank away from Thelma as +though he were some guilty or tainted creature. Surprised at this, +she spoke to her husband about it,--but he, hurriedly, and with some +embarrassment, advised her to "let him alone"--his "nerves were +shaken"--his "health was feeble"--and that it would be kind on her +part to refrain from noticing him or asking him questions. So she +refrained--but Neville's behavior puzzled her all the same. When +they left town, he implored, almost piteously, to be allowed to +remain behind,--he could attend to Sir Philip's business so much +better in London, he declared, and he had his way. Errington, +usually fond of Neville's society, made no attempt whatever to +persuade him against his will,--so he stayed in the half-shut-up +house in Prince's Gate through all the summer heat, poring over +parliamentary documents and pamphlets,--and Philip came up from the +country once a fortnight to visit him, and transact any business +that might require his personal attention. + +On one of the last and hottest days in August, a grand garden-party +was given at the Manor. All the county people were invited, and they +came eagerly, though, before Thelma's social successes in London, +they had been reluctant to meet her. Now, they put on their best +clothes, and precipitated themselves into the Manor grounds like a +flock of sheep seeking land on which to graze,--all wearing their +sweetest propitiatory smirk--all gushing forth their admiration of +"that DARLING Lady Errington"--all behaving themselves in the +exceptionally funny manner that county people affect,--people who +are considered somebodies in the small villages their big houses +dominate,--but who, when brought to reside in London, become less +than the minnows in a vast ocean. These good folks were not only +anxious to SEE Lady Errington-they wanted to SAY they had seen her,- +-and that she had spoken to THEM, so that they might, in talking to +their neighbors, mention it in quite an easy, casual way, such as-- +"Oh, I was at Errington Manor the other day, and Lady Errington said +to me--." Or--"Sir Philip is SUCH a charming man! I was talking to +his lovely wife, and he asked me--" etc., etc. Or--"You've no idea +what large strawberries they grow at the Manor! Lady Errington +showed me some that were just ripening--magnificent!" And so on. For +in truth this IS "a mad world, my masters,"--and there is no +accounting for the inexpressibly small follies and mean toadyisms of +the people in it. + +Moreover, all the London guests who were visiting Thelma came in for +a share of the county magnates' servile admiration. They found the +Winsleighs "so distingue"--Master Ernest instantly became "that DEAR +boy!"--Beau Lovelace was "so dreadfully clever, you know!"--and +Pierre Duprez "quite TOO delightfull" + +The grounds looked very brilliant--pink-and-white marquees were +dotted here and there on the smooth velvet lawns--bright flags waved +from different quarters of the gardens, signals of tennis, archery, +and dancing,--and the voluptuous waltz-music of a fine Hungarian +band rose up and swayed in the air with the downward floating songs +of the birds and the dash of fountains in full play. Girls in pretty +light summer costumes made picturesque groups under the stately oaks +and beeches,--gay laughter echoed from the leafy shrubberies, and +stray couples were seen sauntering meditatively through the rose- +gardens, treading on the fallen scented petals, and apparently too +much absorbed in each other to notice anything that was going on +around them. Most of these were lovers, of course--intending lovers, +if not declared ones,--in fact, Eros was very busy that day among +the roses, and shot forth a great many arrows, aptly aimed, out of +his exhaustless quiver. + +Two persons there were, however,--man and woman,--who, walking in +that same rose-avenue, did not seem, from their manner, to have much +to do with the fair Greek god,--they were Lady Winsleigh and Sir +Francis Lennox. Her ladyship looked exceedingly beautiful in her +clinging dress of Madras lace, with a bunch of scarlet poppies at +her breast. and a wreath of the same vivid flowers in her +picturesque Leghorn hat. She held a scarlet-lined parasol over her +head, and from under the protecting shadow of this silken pavilion, +her dark, lustrous eyes flashed disdainfully as she regarded her +companion. He was biting an end of his brown moustache, and looked +annoyed, yet lazily amused too. + +"Upon my life, Clara," he observed, "you are really awfully down on +a fellow, you know! One would think you never cared two-pence about +me!" + +"Too high a figure!" retorted Lady Winsleigh, with a hard little +laugh. "I never cared a brass farthing!" + +He stopped short in his walk and stared at her. + +"By Jove! you ARE cool!" he ejaculated. "Then what did you mean all +the time?" + +"What did YOU mean?" she asked defiantly. + +He was silent. After a slight, uncomfortable pause, he shrugged his +shoulders and smiled. + +"Don't let us have a scene!" he observed in a bantering tone. +"Anything but that!" + +"Scene!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Pray when have you had to +complain of me on that score?" + +"Well, don't let me have to complain now," he said coolly. + +She surveyed him in silent scorn for a moment, and her full, crimson +lips curled contemptuously. + +"What a brute you are!" she muttered suddenly between her set pearly +teeth. + +"Thanks, awfully!" he answered, taking out a cigarette and lighting +it leisurely. "You are really charmingly candid, Clara! Almost as +frank as Lady Errington, only less polite!" + +"I shall not learn politeness from YOU, at any rate," she said,-- +then altering her tone to one of studied indifference, she continued +coldly, "What do you want of me? We've done with each other, as you +know. I believe you wish to become gentleman-lacquey to Bruce- +Errington's wife, and that you find it difficult to obtain the +situation. Shall I give you a character?" + +He flushed darkly, and his eyes glittered with an evil lustre. + +"Gently, Clara! Draw it mild!" he said languidly. "Don't irritate +me, or I MAY turn crusty! You know, if I chose, I could open Bruce- +Errington's eyes rather more widely than you'd like with respect to +the DEVOTED AFFECTION you entertain for his beautiful wife." She +winced a little at this observation--he saw it and laughed,--then +resumed: "At present I'm really in the best of humors. The reason I +wanted to speak to you alone for a minute or two was, that I'd +something to say which might possibly please you. But perhaps you'd +rather not hear it? " + +She was silent. So was he. He watched her closely for a little-- +noting with complacency the indignant heaving of her breast and the +flush on her cheeks,--signs of the strong repression she was putting +upon her rising temper. + +"Come, Clara, you may as well be amiable," he said. "I'm sure you'll +be glad to know that the virtuous Philip is not immaculate after +all. Won't it comfort you to think that he's nothing but a mortal +man like the rest of us?. . . and that with a little patience your +charms will most probably prevail with him as easily as they once +did with me? Isn't that worth hearing?" + +"I don't understand you," she replied curtly. + +"Then you are very dense, my dear girl," he remarked smilingly. +"Pardon me for saying so! But I'll put it plainly and in as few +words as possible. The moral Bruce-Errington, like a great many +other 'moral' men I know, has gone in for Violet Vere,--and I dare +say you understand what THAT means. In the simplest language, it +means that he's tired of his domestic bliss and wants a change." + +Lady Winsleigh stopped in her slow pacing along the gravel-walk, and +raised her eyes steadily to her companion's face. + +"Are you sure of this?" she asked. + +"Positive!" replied Sir Francis, flicking the light ash off his +cigarette delicately with his little finger. "When you wrote me that +note about the Vere, I confess I had my suspicions. Since then +they've been confirmed. I know for a fact that Errington has had +several private interviews with Vi, and has also written her a good +many letters. Some of the fellows in the green-room tease her about +her new conquest, and she grins and admits it. Oh, the whole thing's +plain enough! Only last week, when he went up to town to see his man +Neville on business he called on Vi at her own apartments in Arundel +Street, Strand. She told me so herself--we're rather intimate, you +know,--though of course she refused to mention the object of his +visit. Honor among thieves!" and he smiled half mockingly. + +Lady Winsleigh seemed absorbed, and walked on like one in a dream. +Just then, a bend in the avenue brought them in full view of the +broad terrace in front of the Manor, where Thelma's graceful figure, +in a close-fitting robe of white silk crepe, was outlined clearly +against the dazzling blue of the sky. Several people were grouped +near her,--she seemed to be in animated conversation with some of +them, and her face was radiant with smiles. Lady Winsleigh looked at +her,--then said suddenly in a low voice-- + +"It will break her heart!" + +Sir Francis assumed an air of polite surprise. "Pardon! Whose +heart?" + +She pointed slightly to the white figure on the terrace. + +"Hers! Surely you must know that?" + +He smiled. "Well--isn't that precisely what you desire Clara? +Though, for my part, I don't believe in the brittleness of hearts-- +they seem to me to be made of exceptionally tough material. However, +if the fair Thelma's heart cracks ever so widely, I think I can +undertake to mend it!" + +Clara shrugged her shoulders. "You!" she exclaimed contemptuously. + +He stroked his moustache with feline care and nicety. + +"Yes--I! If not, I've studied women all my life for nothing!" + +She broke into a low peal of mocking laughter--turned, and was about +to leave him, when he detained her by a slight touch on her arm. + +"Stop a bit!" he said in an impressive sotto-voce. "A bargain's a +bargain all the world over. If I undertake to keep you cognizant of +Bruce-Errington's little goings-on in London,--information which, I +dare say, you can turn to good account,--you must do something for +me. I ask very little. Speak of me to Lady Errington--make her think +well of me,--flatter me as much as you used to do when we fancied +ourselves terrifically in love with each other--(a good joke, wasn't +it!)--and, above all, make her TRUST me! Do you understand?" + +"As Red Riding-Hood trusted the Wolf and was eaten up for her +innocence," observed Lady Winsleigh. "Very well! I'll do my best. As +I said before, you want a character. I'm sure I hope you'll obtain +the situation you so much desire! I can state that yon made yourself +fairly useful in your last place, and that you left because your +wages were not high enough!" + +And with another sarcastic laugh, she moved forward towards the +terrace where Thelma stood. Sir Francis followed at some little +distance with no very pleasant expression on his features. A +stealthy step approaching him front behind made him start nervously- +-it was Louise Renaud, who, carrying a silver tray on which soda- +water bottles and glasses made an agreeable clinking, tripped +demurely past him without raising her eyes. She came directly out of +the rose-garden,--and, as she overtook her mistress on the lawn, +that lady seemed surprised, and asked-- + +"Where have you been, Louise?" + +"Miladi was willing that I should assist in the attendance to-day," +replied Louise discreetly. "I have waited upon Milord Winsleigh, and +other gentlemen in the summer-house at the end of the rose-garden." + +And with one furtive glance of her black, bead-like eyes at Lady +Winsleigh's face, she made a respectful sort of half-curtsy and went +her way. + +Later on in the afternoon, when it was nearing sunset, and all other +amusements had given way to the delight of dancing on the springy +green turf to the swinging music of the band,--Briggs, released for +a time from the duties of assisting the waiters at the splendid +refreshment-table (duties which were pleasantly lightened by the +drinking of a bottle of champagne which he was careful to reserve +for his own consumption), sauntered leisurely through the winding +alleys and fragrant shrubberies which led to the most unromantic +portion of the Manor grounds,--namely, the vegetable-garden. Here +none of the butterflies of fashion found their way,--the suggestions +offered by growing cabbages, turnips, beans, and plump, yellow- +skinned marrows were too prosaic for society bantams who require +refined surroundings in which to crow their assertive platitudes. +Yet it was a peaceful nook--and there were household odors of mint +and thyme and sweet marjoram, which were pleasant to the soul of +Briggs, and reminded him of roast goose on Christmas Day, with all +its attendant succulent delicacies. He paced the path slowly,--the +light of the sinking sun blazing gloriously on his plush breeches, +silver cordons and tassels,--for he was in full-dress livery in +honor of the fete, and looked exceedingly imposing. Now and then he +glanced down at his calves with mild approval,--his silk stockings +fitted them well, and they had a very neat and shapely appearance. + +"I 'AVE developed," he murmured to himself. "There ain't a doubt +about it! One week of Country air, and I'm a different man;--the +effecks of overwork 'ave disappeared. Flopsie won't know these legs +of mine when I get back,--they've improved surprisingly." He stopped +to survey a bed of carrots. "Plenty of Cressy there," he mused. +"Cressy's a noble soup, and Flopsie makes it well,--a man might do +wuss than marry Flopsie. She's a widder, and a LEETLE old--just a +leetle old for me--but--" Here he sniffed delicately at a sprig of +thyme he had gathered, and smiled consciously. Presently he +perceived a small, plump, pretty figure approaching him, no other +than Britta, looking particularly charming in a very smart cap, +adorned with pink-ribbon bows, and a very elaborately frilled muslin +apron. Briggs at once assumed his most elegant and conquering air, +straightened himself to his full height and kissed his hand to her +with much condescension. She laughed as she came up to him, and the +dimples in her round cheeks appeared in full force. + +"Well, Mr. Briggs," she said, "are you enjoying yourself?" + +Briggs smiled down upon her benevolently. "I am!" he responded +graciously. "I find the hair refreshing. And you, Miss Britta?" + +"Oh, I'm very comfortable, thank you!" responded Britta demurely, +edging a little away from his arm, which showed an unmistakable +tendency to encircle her waist,--then glancing at a basket she held +full of grapes, just cut from the hot house, she continued, "These +are for the supper-table. I must be quick, and take them to Mrs. +Parton." + +"Must you?" and Briggs asked this question with quite an unnecessary +amount of tenderness, then resuming his dignity, he observed, "Mrs. +Parton is a very worthy woman--an excellent 'ousekeeper. But she'll +no doubt excuse you for lingering a little, Miss Britta--especially +in MY company." + +Britta laughed again, showing her pretty little white teeth to the +best advantage. "Do you think she will?" she said merrily. "Then +I'll stop a minute, and if she scolds me I'll put the blame on you!" + +Briggs played with his silver tassels and, leaning gracefully +against a plum-tree, surveyed her with a critical eye. + +"I was not able," he observed, "to see much of you in town. Our +people were always a' visitin' each other, and yet our meetings +were, as the poet says, 'few and far between.'" + +Britta nodded indifferently, and perceiving a particularly ripe +gooseberry on one of the bushes close to her, gathered it quickly +and popped it between her rosy lips. Seeing another equally ripe, +she offered it to Briggs, who accepted it and ate it slowly, though +he had a misgiving that by so doing he was seriously compromising +his dignity. He resumed his conversation. + +"Since I've been down 'ere, I've 'ad more opportunity to observe +you. I 'ope you will allow me to say I think very highly of you." He +waved his hand with the elegance of a Sir Charles Grandison. "Very +'ighly indeed! Your youth is most becoming to you! If you only 'ad a +little more CHICK, there'd be nothing left to desire!" + +"A little more--WHAT?" asked Britta, opening her blue eyes very wide +in puzzled amusement. + +"CHICK!" replied Briggs, with persistent persuasiveness. "CHICK, +Miss Britta, is a French word much used by the aristocracy. Coming +from Norway, an 'avin' perhaps a very limited experience, you mayn't +'ave 'erd it--but eddicated people 'ere find it very convenient and +expressive. CHICK means style,--THE thing, THE go, THE fashion. For +example, everything your lady wears is CHICK!" + +"Really!" said Britta, with a wandering and innocent air. "How +funny! It doesn't sound like French, at all, Mr. Briggs,--it's more +like English." + +"Perhaps the Paris accent isn't familiar to you yet," remarked +Briggs majestically. "Your stay in the gay metropolis was probably +short. Now, I 'ave been there many times--ah, Paris, Paris!" he +paused in a sort of ecstacy, then, with a side leer, continued-- +"You'd 'ardly believe 'ow wicked I am in Paris, Miss Britta! I am, +indeed! It is something in the hair of the Bollyvards, I suppose! +And the caffy life excites my nerves." + +"Then you shouldn't go there," said Britta gravely, though her eyes +twinkled with repressed fun. "It can't be good for you. And, oh! I'm +so sorry, Mr. Briggs, to think that YOU are ever wicked!" And she +laughed. + +"It's not for long," explained Briggs, with a comically satisfied, +yet penitent, look. "It is only a sort of breaking out,--a fit of +'igh spirits. Hall men are so at times! It's CHICK to run a little +wild in Paris. But Miss Britta, if YOU were with me I should never +run wild!" Here his arm made another attempt to get round her waist- +-and again she skillfully, and with some show of anger, avoided it. + +"Ah, you're very 'ard upon me," he then observed, "Very, very, 'ard! +But I won't complain, my--my dear gal--one day you'll know me +better!" He stopped and looked at her very intently. "Miss Britta," +he said abruptly, "you've a great affection for your lady, 'aven't +you?" + +Instantly Britta's face flushed, and she was all attention. + +"Yes, indeed!" she answered quickly. "Why do you ask, Mr. Briggs?" + +Briggs rubbed his nose perplexedly. "It is not easy to explain," he +said. "To run down my own employers wouldn't be in my line. But I've +an idea that Clara--by which name I allude to my Lord Winsleigh's +lady,--is up to mischief. She 'ates YOUR lady, Miss Britta--'ates +'er like poison!" + +"Hates her!" cried Britta in astonishment. "Oh, you must be +mistaken, Mr. Briggs! She is as fond of her as she can be--almost +like a sister to her!" + +"Clara's a fine actress," murmured Briggs, more to himself than to +his companion. "She'd beat Violet Vere on 'er own ground." Raising +his voice a little, he turned gallantly to Britta and relieved her +of the basket she held. + +"Hallow me!" he said. "We'll walk to the 'ouse together. On the way +I'll explain--and you'll judge for yourself. The words of the +immortal bard, whose county we are in, occur to me as aprerpo,-- +'There are more things in 'evin and 'erth, 'Oratio,--than even the +most devoted domestic can sometimes be aweer of.'" + +And gently sauntering by Britta's side, Briggs began to converse in +low and confidential tones,--she listened with strained and eager +attention,--and she was soon receiving information that startled her +and set her on the alert. + +Talk of private detectives and secret service! Do private detectives +ever discover so much as the servants of a man's own household?-- +servants who are aware of the smallest trifles,--who know the name +and position of every visitor that comes and goes,--who easily learn +to recognize the handwriting on every letter that arrives--who laugh +and talk in their kitchens over things that their credulous masters +and mistresses imagine are unknown to all the world save +themselves,--who will judge the morals of a Duke, and tear the +reputation of a Duchess to shreds, for the least, the most trifling +error of conduct! If you can stand well with your servants, you can +stand well with the whole world--if not--carry yourself as haughtily +as you may--your pride will not last long, depend upon it! + +Meanwhile, as Briggs and Britta strolled in the side paths of the +shrubbery, the gay guests of the Manor were dancing on the lawn. +Thelma did not dance,--she reclined in a low basket-chair, fanning +herself. George Lorimer lay stretched in lazy length at her feet, +and near her stood her husband, together with Beau Lovelace and Lord +Winsleigh. At a little distance, under the shadow of a noble beech, +sat Mrs. Rush-Marvelle and Mrs. Van Clupp in earnest conversation. +It was to Mrs. Marvelle that the Van Clupps owed their invitation +for this one day down to Errington Manor,--for Thelma herself was +not partial to them. But she did not like to refuse Mrs. Marvelle's +earnest entreaty that they should be asked,--and that good-natured, +scheming lady having gained her point, straightway said to Marcia +Van Clupp somewhat severely-- + +"Now, Marcia, this is your last chance. If you don't hook +Masherville at the Carringten fete, you'll lose him! You mark my +words!" + +Marcia had dutifully promised to do her best, and she was not having +what she herself called "a good hard time of it." Lord Algy was in +one of his most provokingly vacillating moods--moreover, he had a +headache, and felt bilious. Therefore he would not dance--he would +not play tennis--he did not understand archery--he was disinclined +to sit in romantic shrubberies or summer-houses, as he had a nervous +dread of spiders--so he rambled aimlessly about the grounds with his +hands in his pockets, and perforce Marcia was compelled to ramble +too. Once she tried what effect an opposite flirtation would have on +his mind, so she coquetted desperately with a young country squire, +whose breed of pigs was considered the finest in England--but +Masherville did not seem to mind it in the least. Nay, he looked +rather relieved than otherwise, and Marcia, seeing this, grew more +resolute than ever. + +"I guess I'll pay him out for this!" she thought as she watched him +feebly drinking soda-water for his headache. "He's a man that wants +ruling, and ruled he shall be!" + +And Mrs. Rush-Marvelle and Mrs. Van Clupp observed her manoeuvres +with maternal interest, while the cunning-faced, white-headed Van +Clupp conversed condescendingly with Mr. Rush-Marvelle, as being a +nonentity of a man whom he could safely patronize. + +As the glory of the sunset paled, and the delicate, warm hues of the +summer twilight softened the landscape, the merriment of the +brilliant assembly seemed to increase. As soon as it was dark, the +grounds were to be illuminated by electricity, and dancing was to be +continued indoors--the fine old picture-gallery being the place +chosen for the purpose. Nothing that could add to the utmost +entertainment of the guests had been forgotten, and Thelma, the fair +mistress of these pleasant revels, noting with quiet eyes the +evident enjoyment of all present, felt very happy and tranquil. She +had exerted herself a good deal, and was now a little tired. Her +eyes had a dreamy, far-off look, and she found her thoughts +wandering, now and then, away to the Altenfjord--she almost fancied +she could hear the sigh of the pines and the dash of the waves +mingling in unison as they used to do when she sat at the old farm- +house window and span, little dreaming then how her life would +change--how all those familiar things would be swept away as though +they had never been. She roused herself from this momentary reverie, +and glancing down at the recumbent gentleman at her feet, touched +his shoulder lightly with the edge of her fan. + +"Why do you not dance, you very lazy Mr. Lorimer?" she asked, with a +smile. + +He turned up his fair, half-boyish face to hers and laughed. + +"Dance! I! Good gracious! Such an exertion would kill me, Lady +Errington--don't you know that? I am of a Sultan-like disposition--I +shouldn't mind having slaves to dance for me if they did it well-- +but I should look on from the throne whereon I sat cross-legged,-- +and smoke my pipe in peace." + +"Always the same!" she said lightly. "Are you never serious?" + +His eyes darkened suddenly. "Sometimes. Awfully so! And in that +condition I become a burden to myself and my friends." + +"Never be serious!" interposed Beau Lovelace, "it really isn't worth +while! Cultivate the humor of a Socrates, and reduce everything by +means of close argument to its smallest standpoint, and the world, +life, and time are no more than a pinch of snuff for some great +Titantic god to please his giant nose withal!" + +"Your fame isn't worth much then, Beau, if we're to go by that line +of argument," remarked Errington, with a laugh. + +"Fame! By Jove! You don't suppose I'm such an arrant donkey as to +set any store by fame!" cried Lovelace, a broad smile lighting up +his face and eyes." Why, because a few people read my books and are +amused thereby,--and because the Press pats me graciously on the +back, and says metaphorically, 'Well done, little 'un!' or words to +that effect, am I to go crowing about the world as if I were the +only literary chanticleer? My dear friend, have you read 'Esdras'? +You will find there that a certain king of Persia wrote to one +'Rathumus, a story-writer.' No doubt he was famous in his day, but,- +-to travesty HAMLET, 'where be his stories now?' Learn, from the +deep oblivion into which poor Rathumus's literary efforts have +fallen, the utter mockery and uselessness of so-called FAME!" + +"But there must be a certain pleasure in it while you're alive to +enjoy it," said Lord Winsleigh. "Surely you derive some little +satisfaction from your celebrity, Mr. Lovelace?" + +Beau broke into a laugh, mellow, musical, and hearty. + +"A satisfaction shared with murderers, thieves, divorced women, +dynamiters, and other notorious people in general," he said. +"They're all talked about--so am I. They all get written about--so +do I. My biography is always being carefully compiled by newspaper +authorities, to the delight of the reading public. Only the other +day I learned for the first time that my father was a greengrocer, +who went in for selling coals by the half-hundred and thereby made +his fortune--my mother was an unsuccessful oyster-woman who failed +ignominiously at Margate--moreover, I've a great many brothers and +sisters of tender age whom I absolutely refuse to assist. I've got a +wife somewhere, whom my literary success causes me to despise--and I +have deserted children. I'm charmed with, the accuracy of the +newspapers--and I wouldn't contradict them for the world,--I find my +biographies so original! They are the result of that celebrity which +Winsleigh thinks enjoyable." + +"But assertions of that kind are libels," said Errington, "You could +prosecute." + +"Too much trouble!" declared Beau. "Besides, five journals have +disclosed the name of the town where I was born, and as they all +contradict each other, and none of them are right, any contradiction +on MY part would be superfluous!" + +They laughed,--and at that moment Lady Winsleigh joined them. + +"Are you not catching cold, Thelma?" she inquired sweetly. "Sir +Philip, you ought to make her put on something warm,--I find the air +growing chilly." + +At that moment the ever-ready Sir Francis Lennox approached with a +light woolen wrap he had found in the hall. + +"Permit me!" he said gently, at the same time adroitly throwing it +over Thelma's shoulders. + +She colored a little,--she did not care for his attention, but she +could not very well ignore it without seeming to be discourteous. So +she murmured, "Thank you!" and, rising from her chair, addressed +Lady Winsleigh. + +"If you feel cold, Clara, you will like some tea," she said. "Shall +we go indoors, where it is ready?" + +Lady Winsleigh assented with some eagerness,--and the two, beautiful +women--the one dark, the other fair--walked side by side across the +lawn into the house, their arms round each other's waists as they +went. + +"Two queens--and yet not rivals?" half queried Lovelace, as he +watched them disappearing. + +"Their thrones are secure!" returned Sir Philip gaily. + +The others were silent. Lord Winsleigh's thoughts, whatever they +were, deepened the lines of gravity on his face; and George Lorimer, +as he got up from his couch on the grass, caught a fleeting +expression in the brown eyes of Sir Francis Lennox that struck him +with a sense of unpleasantness. But he quickly dismissed the +impression from his mind, and went to have a quiet smoke in the +shrubbery. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +"La rose du jardin, comme tu sais, dure peu, et la saison des roses +est bien vite ecoulee!"--SAADI. + + +Thelma took her friend Lady Winsleigh to her own boudoir, a room +which had been the particular pride of Sir Philip's mother. The +walls were decorated with panels of blue silk in which were woven +flowers of gold and silver thread,--and the furniture, bought from +an old palace in Milan, was of elaborately carved wood inlaid with +ivory and silver. Here a tete-a-tete tea was served for the two +ladies, both of whom were somewhat fatigued by the pleasures of the +day. Lady Winsleigh declared she must have some rest, or she would +be quite unequal to the gaieties of the approaching evening, and +Thelma herself was not sorry to escape for a little from her duties +as hostess,--so the two remained together for some time in earnest +conversations and Lady Winsleigh then and there confided to Thelma +what she had heard reported concerning Sir Philip's intimate +acquaintance with the burlesque actress, Violet Vere. And they were +both so long absent that, after a while, Errington began to miss his +wife, and, growing impatient, went in search of her. He entered the +boudoir, and, to his surprise, found Lady Winsleigh there quite +alone. + +"Where is Thelma?" he demanded. + +"She seems not very well--a slight headache or something of that +sort--and has gone to lie down," replied Lady Winsleigh, with a +faint trace of embarrassment in her manner. "I think the heat has +been too much for her." + +"I'll go and see after her,"--and he turned promptly to leave the +room. + +"Sir Philip!" called Lady Winsleigh. He paused and looked back. + +"Stay one moment," continued her ladyship softly. "I have been for a +long time so very anxious to say something to you in private. Please +let me speak now. You--you know"--here she cast down her lustrous +eyes--"before you went to Norway I--I was very foolish--" + +"Pray do not recall it," he said with kindly gravity "_I_ have +forgotten it." + +"That is so good of you!" and a flush of color warmed her delicate +cheeks. "For if you have forgotten, you have also forgiven?" + +"Entirely!" answered Errington,--and touched by her plaintive, self- +reproachful manner and trembling voice, he went up to her and took +her hands in his own. "Don't think of the past, Clara! Perhaps I +also was to blame a little--I'm quite willing to think I was. +Flirtation's a dangerous amusement at best." He paused as he saw two +bright tears on her long, silky lashes, and in his heart felt a sort +of remorse that he had ever permitted himself to think badly of her. +"We are the best of friends now, Clara," he continued cheerfully, +"and I hope we may always remain so. You can't imagine how glad I am +that you love my Thelma!" + +"Who would not love her!" sighed Lady Winsleigh gently, as Sir +Philip released her hands from his warm clasp,--then raising her +tearful eyes to his she added wistfully," You must take great care +of her, Philip--she is so sensitive,--I always fancy an unkind word +would kill her." + +"She'll never hear one from me!" he returned, with so tender and +earnest a look on his face, that Lady Winsleigh's heart ached for +jealousy. "I must really go and see how she is. She's been exerting +herself too much to-day. Excuse me!" and with a courteous smile and +bow he left the room with a hurried and eager step. + +Alone, Lady Winsleigh smiled bitterly. "Men are all alike!" she said +half aloud. "Who would think he was such a hypocrite? Fancy his +dividing his affection between two such contrasts as Thelma and +Violet Vere! However, there's no accounting for tastes. As for man's +fidelity, I wouldn't give a straw for it--and for his morality--!" +She finished the sentence with a scornful laugh, and left the +boudoir to return to the rest of the company. + +Errington, meanwhile, knocked softly at the door of his wife's +bedroom--and receiving no answer, turned the handle noiselessly and +went in. Thelma lay on the bed, dressed as she was, her cheek +resting on her hand, and her face partially hidden. Her husband +approached on tiptoe, and lightly kissed her forehead. She did not +stir,--she appeared to sleep profoundly. + +"Poor girl!" he thought, "she's tired out, and no wonder, with all +the bustle and racket of these people! A good thing if she can rest +a little before the evening closes in." + +And he stole quietly out of the room, and meeting Britta on the +stairs told her on no account to let her mistress be disturbed till +it was time for the illumination of the grounds. Britta promised,-- +Britta's eyes were red--one would almost have fancied she had been +crying. But Thelma was not asleep--she had felt her husband's kiss,- +-her heart had beat as quickly as the wing of a caged wild bird at +his warm touch,--and now he had gone she turned and pressed her lips +passionately on the pillow where his hand had leaned. Then she rose +languidly from the bed, and, walking slowly to the door, locked it +against all comers. Presently she began to pace the room up and +down,--up and down,--her face was very white and weary, and every +now and then a shuddering sigh broke from her lips. + +"Can I believe it? Oh no!--I cannot--I will not!" she murmured." +There must be some mistake--Clara has heard wrongly." She sighed +again. "Yet--if it is so,--he is not to blame--it is I--I who have +failed to please him. Where--how have I failed?" + +A pained, puzzled look filled her grave blue eyes, and she stopped +in her walk to and fro. + +"It cannot be true!" she said half aloud,--"it is altogether unlike +him. Though Clara says--and she has known him so long!--Clara says +he loved HER once--long before he saw me--my poor Philip!--he must +have suffered by that love!--perhaps that is why he thought life so +wearisome when he first came to the Altenfjord--ah! the Altenfjord!" + +A choking sob rose in her throat--but she repressed it. "I must try +not to weary him," she continued softly--"I must have done so in +some way, or he would not be tired. But as for what I have heard,-- +it is not for me to ask him questions. I would not have him think +that I mistrust him. No--there is some fault in me--something he +does not like, or he would never go to--" She broke off and +stretched out her hands with a sort of wild appeal. "Oh, Philip! my +darling!" she exclaimed in a sobbing whisper. "I always knew I was +not worthy of you--but I thought,--I hoped my love would make amends +for all my shortcomings!" + +Tears rushed into her eyes, and she turned to a little arched +recess, shaded by velvet curtains--her oratory--where stood an +exquisite white marble statuette of the Virgin and Child. There she +knelt for some minutes, her face hidden in her hands, and when she +rose she was quite calm, though very pale. She freshened her face +with cold water, rearranged her disordered hair,--and then went +downstairs, thereby running into the arms of her husband who was +coming up again to look, as he said, at his "Sleeping Beauty." + +"And here she is!" he exclaimed joyously. "Have you rested enough, +my pet?" + +"Indeed, yes!" she answered gently. "I am ashamed so be so lazy. +Have you wanted me, Philip?" + +"I always want you," he declared. "I am never happy without you." + +She smiled and sighed. "You say that to please me," she said half +wistfully. + +"I say it because it is true!" he asserted proudly, putting his arm +round her waist and escorting her in this manner down the great +staircase. "And you know it, you sweet witch! You're just in time to +see the lighting up of the grounds. There'll be a good view from the +picture-gallery--lots of the people have gone in there--you'd better +come too, for it's chilly outside." + +She followed him obediently, and her reappearance among her guests +was hailed with enthusiasm,--Lady Winsleigh being particular +effusive, almost too much so. + +"Your headache has quite gone, dearest, hasn't it?" she inquired +sweetly. + +Thelma eyed her gravely. "I did not suffer from the headache, +Clara," she said. "I was a little tired, but I am quite rested now." + +Lady Winsleigh bit her lips rather vexedly, but said no more, and at +that moment exclamations of delight broke from all assembled at the +brilliant scene that suddenly flashed upon their eyes. Electricity, +that radiant sprite whose magic wand has lately been bent to the +service of man, had in less than a minute played such dazzling +pranks in the gardens that they resembled the fabled treasure-houses +discovered by Aladdin. Every tree glittered with sparkling clusters +of red, blue, and green light--every flower-bed was bordered with +lines and circles of harmless flame, and the fountains tossed up +tall columns of amber rose, and amethyst spray against the soft blue +darkness of the sky, in which a lustrous golden moon had just risen. +The brilliancy of the illuminations showed up several dark figures +strolling in couples about the grounds--romantic persons evidently, +who were not to be persuaded to come indoors, even for the music of +the band, which just then burst forth invitingly through the open +windows of the picture-gallery. + +Two of these pensive wanderers were Marcia Van Clupp and Lord +Algernon Masherville,--and Lord Algy was in a curiously sentimental +frame of mind, and weak withal, "comme une petite queue d'agneau +afflige." He had taken a good deal of soda and brandy for his +bilious headache, and, physically, he was much better,--but mentally +he was not quite his ordinary self. By this it must not be +understood that he was at all unsteadied by the potency of his +medicinal tipple--he was simply in a bland humor--that peculiar sort +of humor which finds strange and mystic beauty in everything, and +contemplates the meanest trifles with emotions of large benevolence. +He was conversational too, and inclined to quote poetry--this sort +of susceptibleness often affects gentlemen after they have had an +excellent dinner flavored with the finest Burgundy. Lord Algy was as +mild, as tame, and as flabby as a sleeping jelly-fish,--and in this +inoffensive, almost tender mood of his, Marcia pounced upon him. She +looked ravishingly pretty in the moonlight, with a white wrap thrown +carelessly round her head and shoulders, and her bold, bird-like +eyes sparkling with excitement (for who that knows the pleasure of +sports, is not excited when the fox is nearly run to earth?), and +she stood with him beside one of the smaller illuminated fountains, +raising her small white band every now and then to catch some of the +rainbow drops, and then with a laugh she would shake them off her +little pearly nails into the air again. Poor Masherville could not +help gazing at her with a lack-lustre admiration in his pale eyes,-- +and Marcia, calculating every move in her own shrewd mind, saw it. +She turned her head away with a petulant yet coquettish movement. + +"My patience!" she exclaimed; "yew KIN stare! Yew'll know me again +when yew see me,--say?" + +"I should know you anywhere," declared Masherville, nervously +fumbling with the string of his eye-glass. "It's impossible to +forget YOUR face, Miss Marcia!" + +She was silent,--and kept that face turned from him so long that the +gentle little lord was surprised. He approached her more closely and +took her hand--the hand that had played with the drops in the +fountain. It was such an astonishingly small hand.--so very fragile- +looking and tiny, that he was almost for putting up his eye-glass to +survey it, as if it were a separate object in a museum. But the +faintest pressure of the delicate fingers he held startled him, and +sent the most curious thrill through his body--and when he spoke he +was in such a flutter that he scarcely knew what he was saying. + +"Miss--Miss Marcia!" he stammered, "have--have I said--anything to-- +to offend you?" + +Very slowly, and with seeming reluctance, she turned her head +towards him, and--oh, thou mischievous Puck, that sometimes takest +upon thee the semblance of Eros, what skill is thine!. . . there +were tears in her eyes--real tears--bright, large tears that welled +up and fell through her long lashes in the most beautiful, touching, +and becoming manner! "And," thought Marcia to herself, "if I don't +fetch him now, I never will!" Lord Algy was quite frightened--his +poor brain grew more and more bewildered. + +"Why--Miss Marcia! I say! Look here!" he mumbled in his extremity, +squeezing her little hand tighter and tighter. "What--what HAVE I +done! Good gracious! You--you really mustn't cry, you know--I say-- +look here! Marcia! I wouldn't vex you for the world!" + +"Yew bet yew wouldn't!" said Marcia, with slow and nasal +plaintiveness. "I like that! That's the way yew English talk. But +yew kin hang round a girl a whole season and make all her folks +think badly of her--and--and--break her heart--yes--that's so! "Here +she dried her eyes with a filmy lace handkerchief." But don't YEW +mind me! I kin bear it. I kin worry through!" And she drew herself +up with dignified resignation--while Lord Algy stared wildly at her, +his feeble mind in a whirl. Presently she smiled most seductively, +and looked up with her dark, tear-wet eyes to the moon. + +"I guess it's a good night for lovers!" she said, sinking her +ordinary tone to an almost sweet cadence. "But we're not of that +sort, are we?" + +The die was cast! She looked so charming--so irresistible, that +Masherville lost all hold over his wits. Scarcely knowing what he +did, he put his arm round her waist. Oh, what a warm, yielding +waist! He drew her close to his breast, at the risk of breaking his +most valuable eyeglass,--and felt his poor weak soul in a quiver of +excitement at this novel and delicious sensation. + +"We are--we are of that sort!" he declared courageously. "Why should +you doubt it, Marcia?" + +"I believe YEW if YEW say so," responded Marcia. "But I guess yew're +only fooling me!" + +"Fooling you!" Lord Algy was so surprised that he released her quite +suddenly from his embrace--so suddenly that she was a little +frightened. Was she to lose him, after all? + +"Marcia." he continued mildly, yet with a certain manliness that did +not ill become him. "I--I hope I am too much of--of a gentleman to-- +to 'FOOL' any woman, least of all you. after I have, as you say, +compromised you in society by my--my attentions. I--I have very +little to offer you--but such as it is, is yours. In--in short, +Marcia, I--I will try to make you happy if you can--can care for me +enough to--to--marry me!" + +Eureka! The game was won! A vision of Masherville Park, Yorkshire, +that "well-timbered and highly desirable residence," as the +auctioneers would describe it, flitted before Marcia's eyes,--and, +filled with triumph, she went straight into her lordly wooer's arms, +and kissed him with thorough transatlantic frankness. She was really +grateful to him. Ever since she had come to England, she had plotted +and schemed to become "my lady" with all the vigor of a purely +republican soul,--and now at last, after hard fighting, she had won +the prize for which her soul had yearned. She would in future belong +to the English aristocracy--that aristocracy which her relatives in +New York pretended to despise, yet openly flattered,--and with her +arms round the trapped Masherville's neck, she foresaw the delight +she would have in being toadied by them as far as toadyism could be +made to go. + +She is by no means presented to the reader as a favorable type of +her nation--for, of course, every one knows there are plenty of +sweet, unselfish, guileless American girls, who are absolutely +incapable of such unblushing marriage-scheming as hers,--but what +else could be expected from Marcia? Her grandfather, the navvy, had +but recently become endowed with Pilgrim-Father Ancestry,--and her +maternal uncle was a boastful pork-dealer in Cincinnati. It Was her +bounden duty to ennoble the family somehow,--surely, if any one had +a right to be ambitious, she was that one! And wild proud dreams of +her future passed through her brain, little Lord Algy quivered +meekly under her kiss, and returned it with all the enthusiasm of +which he was capable. One or two faint misgivings troubled him as to +whether he had not been just a little too hasty in making a serious +bona fide offer of marriage to the young lady by whose Pilgrim +progenitors he was not deceived. He knew well enough what her +antecedents were, and a faint shudder crossed him as he thought of +the pork-dealing uncle, who would, by marriage, become HIS uncle +also. He had long been proud of the fact that the house of +Masherville had never, through the course of centuries, been +associated, even in the remotest manner with trade--and now!-- + +"Yet, after all," he mused, "the Marquis of Londonderry openly +advertises himself as a coal-merchant, and the brothers-in-law of +the Princess Louise are in the wine trade and stock-broking +business,--and all the old knightly blood of England is mingling +itself by choice with that of the lowest commoners--what's the use +of my remaining aloof, and refusing to go with the spirit of the +age? Besides, Marcia loves me, and it's pleasant to be loved!" + +Poor Lord Algy. He certainly thought there could be no question +about Marcia's affection for him. He little dreamed that it was to +his title and position she had become so deeply attached,--he could +not guess that after he had married her there would be no more Lord +Masherville worth mentioning--that that individual, once +independent, would be entirely swallowed up and lost in the dashing +personality of Lady Masherville, who would rule her husband as with +a rod of iron. + +He was happily ignorant of his future, and he walked in the gardens +for some time with his arm round Marcia's waist, in a very placid +and romantic frame of mind. By-and-by he escorted her into the +house, where the dancing was in full swing--and she, with a sweet +smile, bidding him wait for her in the refreshment-room, sought for +and found her mother, who as usual, was seated in a quiet corner +with Mrs. Rush-Marvelle, talking scandal. + +"Well?" exclaimed these two ladies, simultaneously and breathlessly. + +Marcia's eyes twinkled. "Guess he came in as gently as a lamb!" she +said. + +They understood her. Mrs. Rush-Marvelle rose from her chair in her +usual stately and expensive manner. + +"I congratulate you, my dear!" kissing Marcia affectionately on both +cheeks. "Bruce Errington would have been a better match,--but, under +the circumstances, Masherville is really about the best thing you +could do. You'll find him quite easy to manage!" This with an air as +though she were recommending a quiet pony. + +"That's so!" said Marcia carelessly, "I guess we'll pull together +somehow. Mar-ma," to her mother--"yew kin turn on the news to all +the folks yew meet--the more talk the better! I'm not partial to +secrets!" And with a laugh, she turned away. + +Then Mrs. Van Clupp laid her plump, diamond-ringed hand on that of +her dear friend, Mrs. Marvelle. + +"You have managed the whole thing beautifully," she said, with a +grateful heave of her ample bosom. "Such a clever creature as you +are!" She dropped her voice to a mysterious whisper. "You shall have +that cheque to-morrow, my love!" + +Mrs. Rush-Marvelle pressed her fingers cordially. + +"Den't hurry yourself about it!"--she returned in the same +confidential tone. "I dare say you'll want me to arrange the wedding +and the 'crush' afterwards. I can wait till then." + +"No, no! that's a separate affair," declared Mrs. Van Clupp. "I must +insist on your taking the promised two hundred. You've been really +so VERY energetic!" + +"Well, I HAVE worked rather hard," said Mrs. Marvelle, with modest +self-consciousness. "You see nowadays it's so difficult to secure +suitable husbands for the girls who ought to have them. Men ARE such +slippery creatures!" + +She sighed--and Mrs. Van Clupp echoed the sigh,--and then these two +ladies,--the nature of whose intimacy may now be understood by the +discriminating reader,--went together to search out those of their +friends and acquaintances who were among the guests that night, and +to announce to them (in the strictest confidence, of course!) the +delightful news of "dear Marcia's engagement." Thelma heard of it, +and went at once to proffer her congratulations to Marcia in person. + +"I hope you will be very, very happy!" she said simply, yet with +such grave earnestness in her look and voice that the "Yankee gel" +was touched to a certain softness and seriousness not at all usual +with her, and became so winning and gentle to Lord Algy that he felt +in the seventh heaven of delight with his new position as affianced +lover to so charming a creature. + +Meanwhile George Lorimer and Pierre Duprez were chatting together in +the library. It was very quiet there,--the goodly rows of books, the +busts of poets and philosophers,--the large, placid features of the +Pallas Athene crowning an antique pedestal,--the golden pipes of the +organ gleaming through the shadows,--all these gave a solemn, almost +sacred aspect to the room. The noise of the dancing and festivity in +the distant picture-gallery did not penetrate here, and Lorimer sat +at the organ, drawing out a few plaintive strains from its keys as +he talked. + +"It's your fancy, Pierre," he said slowly. "Thelma may be a little +tired to-day, perhaps--but I know she's perfectly happy." + +"I think not so," returned Duprez. "She has not the brightness--the +angel look--les yeux d' enfant,--that we beheld in her at that far +Norwegian Fjord. Britta is anxious for her." + +Lorimer looked up, and smiled a little. + +"Britta? It's always Britta with you, mon cher! One would think--" +he paused and laughed. + +"Think what you please!" exclaimed Duprez, with a defiant snap of +his fingers. "I would not give that little person for all the +grandes dames here to-day! She is charming--and she is TRUE!-Ma foi! +to be true to any one is a virtue in this age! I tell you, my good +boy, there is something sorrowful--heavy--on la belle Thelma's mind- +-and Britta, who sees her always, feels it--but she cannot speak. +One thing I will tell you--it is a pity she is so fond of Miladi +Winsleigh." + +"Why?" asked Lorimer, with some eagerness. + +"Because--" he stopped abruptly as a white figure suddenly appeared +at the doorway, and a musical voice addressed them-- + +"Why, what are you both doing here, away from everybody?" and Thelma +smiled as she approached. "You are hermits, or you are lazy! People +are going in to supper. Will you not come also?" + +"Ma foi!" exclaimed Duprez; "I had forgotten! I have promised your +most charming mother, cher Lorimer, to take her in to this same +supper. I must fly upon the wings of chivalry!" + +And with a laugh, he hurried off, leaving Thelma and Lorimer alone +together. She sank rather wearily into a chair near the organ, and +looked at him. + +"Play me something!" she said softly. + +A strange thrill quivered through him as he met her eyes--the sweet, +deep, earnest eyes of the woman he loved. For it was no use +attempting to disguise it from himself--he loved her passionately, +wildly, hopelessly; as he had loved her from the first. + +Obedient to her wish, his fingers wandered over the organ-keys in a +strain of solemn, weird, yet tender melancholy--the grand, rich +notes pealed forth sobbingly--and she listened, her hands clasped +idly in her lap. Presently he changed the theme to one of more +heart-appealing passion--and a strange wild minor air, like the +rushing of the wind across the mountains, began to make itself heard +through the subdued rippling murmur of his improvised accompaniment. +To his surprise and fear, she started up, pressing her hands against +her ears. + +"Not that--not that song, my friend!" she cried, almost imploringly. +"Oh, it will break my heart! Oh, the Altenfjord!" And she gave way +to a passion of weeping. + +"Thelma! Thelma!" and poor Lorimer, rising from the organ, stood +gazing at her in piteous dismay,--every nerve in his body wrung to +anguish by the sound of her sobbing. A mad longing seized him to +catch her in his arms,--to gather her and her sorrows, whatever they +were, to his heart!--and he had much ado to restrain himself. + +"Thelma," he presently said, in a gentle voice that trembled just a +little, "Thelma, what is troubling you? You call me your brother-- +give me a brother's right to your confidence." He bent over her and +took her hand. "I--I can't bear to see you cry like this! Tell me-- +what's the matter? Let me fetch Philip." + +She looked up with wild wet eyes and quivering lips. + +"Oh no--no!" she murmured, in a tone of entreaty and alarm. "Do +not,--Philip must not know--I do wish him always to see me bright +and cheerful--and--it is nothing! It is that I heard something which +grieved me--" + +"What was it?" asked Lorimer, remembering Duprez's recent remarks. + +"Oh, I would not tell you!" she said eagerly, drying her eyes and +endeavoring to smile, "because I am sure it was a mistake, and all +wrong--and I was foolish to fancy that such a thing could be, even +for a moment. But when one does not know the world, it seems cruel-- +" + +"Thelma, what do you mean?" and George surveyed her in some +perplexity. "If any one's been bothering or vexing you, just you +tell Phil all about it. Don't have any secrets from him,--he'll soon +put everything straight, whatever it is." + +She shook her head slightly. "Ah, you do not understand!" she said +pathetically, "how should you? Because you have not given your life +away to any one, and it is all different with you. But when you do +love--if you are at all like me,--you will be so anxious to always +seem worthy of love--and you will hide all your griefs away from +your beloved,--so that your constant presence shall not seem +tiresome. And I would not for all the world trouble Philip with my +silly fancies--because then he might grow more weary still--" + +"WEARY!" interrupted Lorimer, in an accent of emphatic surprise. +"Why, you don't suppose Phil's tired of you, Thelma? That IS +nonsense indeed! He worships you! Who's been putting such notions +into your head?" + +She rose from her chair quite calm and very pale, and laid her two +trembling hands in his. + +"Ah, you also will mistake me," she said, with touching sweetness, +"like so many others who think me strange in my speech and manner. I +am sorry I am not like other women,--but I cannot help it. What I do +wish you to understand is that I never suppose anything against my +Philip--he is the noblest and best of men! And you must promise not +to tell him that I was so foolish as to cry just now because you +played that old song I sang to you both so often in Norway--it was +because I felt a little sad--but it was only a fancy,--and I would +not have him troubled with such things. Will you promise? " + +"But what has made you sad?" persisted Lorimer, still puzzled. + +"Nothing--nothing indeed," she answered, with almost feverish +earnestness. "You yourself are sometimes sad, and can you tell why?" + +Lorimer certainly could have told why,--but he remained silent, and +gently kissed the little hands he held. + +"Then I mustn't tell Philip of your sadness?" he asked softly, at +last. "But will you tell him yourself, Thelma? Depend upon it, it's +much better to have no secrets from him. The least grief of yours +would affect him more than the downfall of a kingdom. You know how +dearly he loves you!" + +"Yes--I know!" she answered, and her eyes brightened slowly. "And +that is why I wish him always to see me happy!" She paused, and then +added in a lower tone, "I would rather die, my friend, than vex him +for one hour!" + +George still held her hands and looked wistfully in her face. He was +about to speak again, when a cold, courteous voice interrupted them. + +"Lady Errington, may I have the honor of taking you in to supper?" + +It was Sir Francis Lennox. He had entered quite noiselessly--his +footsteps making no sound on the thick velvet-pile carpet, and he +stood quite close to Lorimer, who dropped Thelma's hands hastily and +darted a suspicious glance at the intruder. But Sir Francis was the +very picture of unconcerned and bland politeness, and offered Thelma +his arm with the graceful ease of an accomplished courtier. She was, +perforce, compelled to accept it--and she was slightly confused, +though she could not have told why. + +"Sir Philip has been looking everywhere for you," continued Sir +Francis amicably. "And for you also," he added, turning slightly to +Lorimer. "I trust I've not abruptly broken off a pleasant tete-a- +tete?" + +Lorimer colored hotly. "Not at all," he said rather brusquely. "I've +been strumming on the organ, and Lady Errington has been good enough +to listen to me." + +"You do not STRUM" said Thelma, with gentle reproach. "You play very +beautifully." + +"Ah! a charming accomplishment!" observed Sir Francis, with his +under-glance and covert smile, as they all three wended their way +out of the library. "I regret I have never had time to devote myself +to acquiring some knowledge of the arts. In music I am a positive +ignoramus! I can hold my own best in the field." + +"Yes, you're a great adept at hunting, Lennox," remarked Lorimer +suddenly, with something sarcastic in his tone. "I suppose the +quarry never escapes you?" + +"Seldom!" returned Sir Francis coolly. "Indeed, I think I may say, +never!" + +And with that, he passed into the supper-room, elbowing a way for +Thelma, till he succeeded in placing her near the head of the table, +where she was soon busily occupied in entertaining her guests and +listening to their chatter; and Lorimer, looking at her once or +twice, saw, to his great relief, that all traces of her former +agitation had disappeared, leaving her face fair and radiant as a +spring morning. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + + "A generous fierceness dwells with innocence, + And conscious virtue is allowed some pride." + + + DEYDEN + +The melancholy days of autumn came on apace, and by-and-by the Manor +was deserted. The Bruce-Errington establishment removed again to +town, where business, connected with his intending membership for +Parliament, occupied Sir Philip from morning till night. The old +insidious feeling of depression returned and hovered over Thelma's +mind like a black bird of ill omen, and though she did her best to +shake it off she could not succeed. People began to notice her +deepening seriousness and the wistful melancholy of her blue eyes, +and made their remarks thereon when they saw her at Marcia Van +Clupp's wedding, an event which came off brilliantly at the +commencement of November, and which was almost entirely presided +over by Mrs. Rush-Marvelle. That far-seeing matron had indeed urged +on the wedding by every delicate expedient possible. + +"Long engagements are a great mistake," she told Marcia,--then, in a +warning undertone she added, "Men are capricious nowadays,--they're +all so much in demand,--better take Masherville while he's in the +humor." + +Marcia accepted this hint and took him,--and Mrs. Rush-Marvelle +heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the twain safely married, and +off to the Continent on their honeymoon-trip,--Marcia all sparkling +and triumphant,--Lord Algy tremulous and feebly ecstatic. + +"Thank Heaven THAT's over!" she said to her polite and servile +husband. "I never had such a troublesome business in my life! That +girl's been nearly two seasons on my hands, and I think five hundred +guineas not a bit too much for all I've done." + +"Not a bit--not a bit!" agreed Mr. Marvelle warmly. "Have they--have +they--" here he put on a most benevolent side-look--"quite settled +with you, my dear?" + +"Every penny," replied Mrs. Marvelle calmly. "Old Van Clupp paid me +the last hundred this morning. And poor Mrs. Van Clupp is so VERY +grateful!" She sighed placidly, and appeared to meditate. Then she +smiled sweetly and, approaching Mr. Marvelle, patted his shoulder +caressingly. "I think we'll do the Italian lakes, dear--what do you +say?" + +"Charming--charming!" declared, not her lord and master, but her +slave and vassal. "Nothing could be more delightful!" + +And to the Italian lakes accordingly they went. A great many people +were out of town,--all who had leisure and money enough to liberate +themselves from the approaching evils of an English winter, had +departed or were departing,--Beau Lovelace had gone to Como,--George +Lorimer had returned with Duprez to Paris, and Thelma had very few +visitors except Lady Winsleigh, who was more often with her now than +ever. In fact, her ladyship was more like one of the Errington +household than anything else,--she came so frequently and stayed so +long. She seemed sincerely attached to Thelma,--and Thelma herself, +too single-hearted and simple to imagine that such affection could +be feigned, gave her in return, what Lady Winsleigh had never +succeeded in winning from any woman,--a pure, trusting, and utterly +unsuspecting love, such as she would have lavished on a twin-born +sister. But there was one person who was not deceived by Lady +Winsleigh's charm of manner, and grace of speech. This was Britta. +Her keen eyes flashed a sort of unuttered defiance into her +ladyship's beautiful, dark languishing ones--she distrusted her, and +viewed the intimacy between her and the "Froken" with entire +disfavor. Once she ventured to express something of her feeling on +the matter to Thelma--but Thelma had looked so gently wondering and +reproachful that Britta had not courage to go on. + +"I am so sorry, Britta," said her mistress, "that you do not like +Lady Winsleigh--because I am very fond of her. You must try to like +her for my sake." + +But Britta pursed her lips and shook her head obstinately. However, +she said no more at the time, and decided within herself to wait and +watch the course of events. And in the meantime she became very +intimate with Lady Winsleigh's maid, Louise Renaud, and Briggs, and +learned from these two domestic authorities many things which +greatly tormented and puzzled her little brain,--things over which +she pondered deeply without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion. + +On her return to town, Thelma had been inexpressibly shocked at the +changed appearance of her husband's secretary, Edward Seville. At +first she scarcely knew him, he had altered so greatly. Always +inclined to stoop, his shoulders were now bent as by the added +weight of twenty years--his hair, once only grizzled, was now quite +grey--his face was deeply sunken and pale, and his eyes by contrast +looked large and wild, as though some haunting thought were driving +him to madness. He shrank so nervously from her gaze, that she began +to fancy he must have taken some dislike to her,--and though she +delicately refrained from pressing questions upon him personally, +she spoke to her husband about him, with real solicitude. "Is Mr. +Neville working too hard?" she asked one day. "He looks very ill." + +Her remark seemed to embarrass Philip,--he colored and seemed +confused. + +"Does he? Oh, I suppose he sleeps badly. Yes, I remember, he told me +so. You see, the loss of his wife has always preyed on his mind--he +never loses hope of--of--that is--he is always trying to--you know!- +-to get her back again." + +"But do you think he will ever find her?" asked Thelma. "I thought +you said it was a hopeless case?" + +"Well--I think so, certainly--but, you see, it's no good dashing his +hopes--one never knows--she might turn up any day--it's a sort of +chance!" + +"I wish I could help him to search for her," she said +compassionately. "His eyes do look so full of sorrow," she paused +and added musingly, "almost like Sigurd's eyes sometimes." + +"Oh, he's not losing his wits," said Philip hastily, "he's quite +patient, and--and all that sort of thing. Don't bother about him, +Thelma, he's all right!" + +And he fumbled hastily with some papers, and began to talk of +something else. His embarrassed manner caused her to wonder a little +at the time as to the reason of it,--but she had many other things +to think about, and she soon forgot a conversation that might have +proved a small guiding-link in the chain of events that were soon +about to follow quickly one upon another, shaking her life to its +very foundation. Lady Winsleigh found it almost impossible to get +her on the subject of the burlesque actress, Violet Vere, and Sir +Philip's supposed admiration for that notorious stage-siren. + +"I do not believe it," she said firmly, "and you--you must not +believe it either, Clara. For wherever you heard it, it is wrong. We +should dishonor Philip by such a thought--you are his friend, and I +am his wife--we are not the ones to believe anything against him, +even if it could be proved--and there are no proofs." + +"My dear," responded her ladyship easily. "You can get proofs for +yourself if you like. For instance, ask Sir Philip how often he has +seen Miss Vere lately,--and hear what he says." + +Thelma colored deeply. "I would not question my husband on such a +subject," she said proudly. + +"Oh well! if you are so fastidious!" And Lady Winsleigh shrugged her +shoulders. + +"I am not fastidious," returned Thelma, "only I do wish to be worthy +of his love,--and I should not be so if I doubted him. No, Clara, I +will trust him to the end." + +Clara Winsleigh drew nearer to her, and took her hand. + +"Even if he were unfaithful to you?" she asked in a low, impressive +tone. + +"Unfaithful!" Thelma uttered the word with a little cry. "Clara, +dear Clara, you must not say such a word! Unfaithful! That means +that my husband would love some one more than me!--ah! that is +impossible!" + +"Suppose it were possible?" persisted Lady Winsleigh, with a cruel +light in her dark eyes. "Such things have been!" + +Thelma stood motionless, a deeply mournful expression on her fair, +pale face. She seemed to think for a moment, then she spoke. + +"I would never believe it!" she said solemnly. "Never, unless I +heard it from his own lips, or saw it in his own writing, that he +was weary of me, and wanted me no more." + +"And then?" + +"Then"--she drew a quick breath--"I should know what to do. But, +Clara, you must understand me well, even if this were so, I should +never blame him--no--not once!" + +"Not blame him?" cried Lady Winsleigh impatiently. "Not blame him +for infidelity?" + +A deep blush swept over her face at the hated word "infidelity," but +she answered steadily-- + +"No. Because, you see, it would be my fault, not his. When you hold +a flower in your hand for a long time, till all its fragrance has +gone, and you drop it because it no longer smells sweetly--you are +not to blame--it is natural you should wish to have something fresh +and fragrant,--it is the flower's fault because it could not keep +its scent long enough to please you. Now, if Philip were to love me +no longer, I should be like that flower, and how would HE be to +blame? He would be good as ever, but I--I should have ceased to seem +pleasant to him--that is all!" + +She put this strange view of the case quite calmly, as if it were +the only solution to the question. Lady Winsleigh heard her, half in +contemptuous amusement, half in dismay. "What can I do with such a +woman as this," she thought. "And fancy Lennie imagining for a +moment that HE could have any power over her!" Aloud, she said-- + +"Thelma, you're the oddest creature going--a regular heathen child +from Norway! You've set up your husband as an idol, and you're +always on your knees before him. It's awfully sweet of you, but it's +quite absurd, all the same. Angelic wives always get the worst of +it, and so you'll see! Haven't you heard that?" + +"Yes, I have heard it," she answered, smiling a little. "But only +since I came to London. In Norway, it is taught to women that to be +patient and obedient is best for every one. It is not so here. But I +am not an angelic wife, Clara, and so the 'worst of it' will not +apply to me. Indeed, I do not know of any 'worst' that I would not +bear for Philip's sake." + +Lady Winsleigh studied the lovely face, eloquent with love and +truth, for some moments in silence;--a kind of compunction pricked +her conscience. Why destroy all that beautiful faith? Why wound that +grandly trusting nature? The feeling was but momentary. + +"Philip DOES run after the Vere," she said to herself--"it's true, +there's no mistake about it, and she ought to know of it. But she +won't believe without proofs--what proofs can I get, I wonder?" And +her scheming brain set to work to solve this problem. + +In justice to her, it must be admitted, she had a good deal of +seeming truth on her side. Sir Philip's name HAD somehow got +connected with that of the leading actress at the Brilliant, and +more people than Lady Winsleigh began to make jocose whispering +comments on his stage "amour"--comments behind his back, which he +was totally unaware of. Nobody knew quite how the rumor had first +been started. Sir Francis Lennox seemed to know a good deal about +it, and he was an "intimate" of the "Vere" magic circle of +attraction. And though they talked, no one ventured to say anything +to Sir Philip himself;--the only two among his friends who would +have spoken out honestly were Beau Lovelace and Lorimer, and these +were absent. + +One evening, contrary to his usual custom, Sir Philip went out after +the late dinner. Before leaving, he kissed his wife tenderly, and +told her on no account to sit up for him--he and Neville were going +to attend to a little matter of business which might detain them +longer than they could calculate. After they had gone, Thelma +resigned herself to a lonely evening, and, stirring the fire in the +drawing-room to a cheerful blaze, she sat down beside it. First, she +amused herself by reading over some letters recently received from +her father,--and then, yielding to a sudden fancy, she drew her +spinning-wheel from the corner where it always stood, and set it in +motion. She had little time for spinning now, but she never quite +gave it up, and as the low, familiar whirring sound hummed +pleasantly on her ears, she smiled, thinking how quaint and almost +incongruous her simple implement of industry looked among all the +luxurious furniture, and costly nick-nacks by which she was +surrounded. + +"I ought to have one of my old gowns on," she half murmured, +glancing down at the pale-blue silk robe she wore, "I am too fine to +spin!" + +And she almost laughed as the wheel flew round swiftly under her +graceful manipulations. Listening to its whirr, whirr, whirr, she +scarcely heard a sudden knock at the street-door, and was quite +startled when the servant, Morris, announced--"Sir Francis Lennox!" + +Surprised, she rose from her seat at the spinning-wheel with a +slight air of hauteur. Sir Francis, who had never in his life seen a +lady of title and fashion in London engaged in the primitive +occupation of spinning, was entirely delighted with the picture +before him,--the tall, lovely woman with her gold hair and +shimmering blue draperies, standing with such stateliness beside the +simple wooden wheel, the antique emblem of household industry. +Instinctively he thought of Marguerite;--but Marguerite as a crowned +queen, superior to all temptations of either man or fiend. + +"Sir Philip is out," she said, as she suffered him to take her hand. + +"So I was aware!" returned Lennox easily. "I saw him a little while +ago at the door of the Brilliant Theatre." + +She turned very pale,--then controlling the rapid beating of her +heart by a strong effort, she forced a careless smile, and said +bravely-- + +"Did you? I am very glad--for he will have some amusement there, +perhaps, and that will do him good. He has been working so hard!" + +She paused. He said nothing, and she went on more cheerfully still-- + +"Is it not a very dismal, wet evening! Yes!--and you must be cold. +Will you have some tea?" + +"Tha-anks!" drawled Sir Francis, staring at her admiringly. "If it's +not too much trouble--" + +"Oh no!" said Thelma. "Why should it be?" And she rang the bell and +gave the order. Sir Francis sank lazily back in an easy chair, and +stroked his moustache slowly. He knew that his random hit about the +theatre had struck home,--but she allowed the arrow to pierce and +possibly wound her heart without showing any outward sign of +discomposure. "A plucky woman!" he considered, and wondered how he +should make his next move. She, meanwhile, smiled at him frankly, +and gave a light twirl to her spinning-wheel. + +"You see!" she said, "I was amusing myself this evening by imagining +that I was once more at home in Norway." + +"Pray don't let me interrupt the amusement," he responded, with a +sleepy look of satisfaction shooting from beneath his eyelids. "Go +on spinning, Lady Errington! . . . I've never seen any one spin +before." + +At that moment Morris appeared with the tea, and handed it to Sir +Francis,--Thelma took none, and as the servant retired, she quietly +resumed her occupation. There was a short silence, only broken by +the hum of the wheel. Sir Francis sipped his tea with a meditative +air, and studied the fair woman before him as critically as he would +have studied a picture. + +"I hope I'm not in your way?" he asked suddenly. She looked up +surprised. + +"Oh no--only I am sorry Philip is not here to talk to you. It would +be so much pleasanter." + +"Would it?" he murmured rather dubiously and smiling. "Well--I shall +be quite contented if you will talk to me, Lady Errington!" + +"Ah, but I am not at all clever in conversation," responded Thelma +quite seriously. "I am sure you, as well as many others, must have +noticed that. I never do seem to say exactly the right thing to +please everybody. Is it not very unfortunate?" + +He laughed a little. "I have yet to learn in what way you do not +please everybody," he said, dropping his voice to a low, caressing +cadence. "Who, that sees you, does not admire--and--and love you?" + +She met his languorous gaze without embarrassment,--while the +childlike openness of her regard confused and slightly shamed him. + +"Admire me? Oh yes!" she said somewhat plaintively. "It is that of +which I am so weary! Because God has made one pleasant in form and +face,--to be stared at and whispered about, and have all one's +dresses copied!--all that is so small and common and mean, and does +vex me so much!" + +"It is the penalty you pay for being beautiful," said Sir Francis +slowly, wondering within himself at the extraordinary incongruity of +a feminine creature who was actually tired of admiration. + +She made no reply--the wheel went round faster than before. +Presently Lennox set aside his emptied cup, and drawing his chair a +little closer to hers, asked-- + +"When does Errington return?" + +"I cannot tell you," she answered. "He said that he might be late. +Mr. Neville is with him." + +There was another silence. "Lady Errington," said Sir Francis +abruptly--"pray excuse me--I speak as a friend, and in your +interests,--how long is this to last?" + +The wheel stopped. She raised her eyes,--they were grave and steady. + +"I do not understand you," she returned quietly. "What is it that +you mean?" + +He hesitated--then went on, with lowered eyelids and a half-smile. + +"I mean--what all our set's talking about--Errington's queer fancy +for that actress at the Brilliant." + +Thelma still gazed at him fixedly. "It is a mistake," she said +resolutely, "altogether a mistake. And as you are his friend, Sir +Francis, you will please contradict this report--which is wrong, and +may do Philip harm. It has no truth in it at all--" + +"No truth!" exclaimed Lennox. "It's true as Gospel! Lady Errington, +I'm sorry for it--but your husband is deceiving you most +shamefully!" + +"How dare you say such a thing!" she cried, springing upright and +facing him,--then she stopped and grew very pale--but she kept her +eyes upon him. How bright they were! What a chilling pride glittered +in their sea-blue depths! + +"You are in error," she said coldly. "If it is wrong to visit this +theatre you speak of, why are you so often seen there--and why is +not some harm said of YOU? It is not your place to speak against my +husband. It is shameful and treacherous! You do forget yourself most +wickedly!" + +And she moved to leave the room. But Sir Francis interposed. + +"Lady Errington," he said very gently, "don't be hard upon me--pray +forgive me! Of course I've no business to speak--but how can I help +it? When I hear every one at the clubs discussing you, and pitying +you, it's impossible to listen quite unmoved! I'm the least among +your friends, I know,--but I can't bear this sort of thing to go +on,--the whole affair will be dished up in the society papers next!" + +And he paced the room half impatiently,--a very well-feigned +expression of friendly concern and sympathy on his features. Thelma +stood motionless, a little bewildered--her head throbbed achingly, +and there was a sick sensation of numbness creeping about her. + +"I tell you it is all wrong!" she repeated with an effort. "I do not +understand why these people at the clubs should talk of me, or pity +me. I do not need any pity! My husband is all goodness and truth,"-- +she stopped and gathered courage as she went on." Yes! he is better, +braver, nobler than all other men in the world, it seems to me! He +gives me all the joy of my life--each day and night I thank God for +the blessing of his love!" + +She paused again. Sir Francis turned and looked at her steadily. A +sudden thought seemed to strike her, for she advanced eagerly, a +sweet color flushing the pallor of her skin. + +"You can do so much for me if you will!" she said, laying her hand +on his arm. "You can tell all these people who talk so foolishly +that they are wrong,--tell them how happy I am! And that my Philip +has never deceived me in any matter, great or small!" + +"Never?" he asked with a slight sneer. "You are sure?" + +"Sure!" she answered bravely. "He would keep nothing from me that it +was necessary or good for me to know. And I--oh! I might pass all my +life in striving to please him, and yet I should never, never be +worthy of all his tenderness and goodness! And that he goes many +times to a theatre without me-what is it? A mere nothing--a trifle +to laugh at! It is not needful to tell me of such a small +circumstance!" + +As she spoke she smiled--her form seemed to dilate with a sort of +inner confidence and rapture. + +Sir Francis stared at her half shamed,--half savage. The beautiful, +appealing face, bright with simple trust, roused him to no sort of +manly respect or forbearance,--the very touch of the blossom-white +hand she had laid so innocently on his arm, stung his passion as +with a lash--as he had said, he was fond of hunting--he had chased +the unconscious deer all through the summer, and now that it had +turned to bay with such pitiful mildness and sweet pleading, why not +draw the knife across its slim throat without mercy? + +"Really, Lady Errington!" he said at last sarcastically, "your +wifely enthusiasm and confidence are indeed charming! But, +unfortunately, the proofs are all against you. Truth is truth, +however much you may wish to blind your eyes to its manifestations. +I sincerely wish Sir Philip were present to hear your eloquent +praises of him, instead of being where he most undoubtedly is,--in +the arms of Violet Vere!" + +As he said these words she started away from him and put her hands +to her ears as though to shut out some discordant sound--her eyes +glowed feverishly. A cold shiver shook her from head to foot. + +"That is false--false!" she muttered in a low, choked voice. "How +can you--how dare you?" + +She ceased, and with a swaying, bewildered movement, as though she +were blind, she fell senseless at his feet. + +In one second he was kneeling beside her. He raised her head on his +arm,--he gazed eagerly on her fair, still features. A dark +contraction of his brows showed that his thoughts were not +altogether righteous ones. Suddenly he laid her down again gently, +and, springing to the door, locked it. Returning, he once more +lifted her in a half-reclining position, and encircling her with his +arms, drew her close to his breast and kissed her. He was in no +hurry for her to recover--she looked very beautiful--she was +helpless--she was in his power. The silvery ting-ling of the clock +on the mantel-piece striking eleven startled him a little--he +listened painfully--he thought he heard some one trying the handle +of the door he had locked. Again--again he kissed those pale, +unconscious lips! Presently, a slight shiver ran through her frame-- +she sighed, and a little moan escaped her. Gradually, as warmth and +sensation returned to her, she felt the pressure of his embrace, and +murmured-- + +"Philip! Darling,--you have come back earlier,--I thought--" + +Here she opened her eyes and met those of Sir Francis, who was +eagerly bending over her. She uttered an exclamation of alarm, and +strove to rise. He held her still more closely. + +"Thelma--dear, dearest Thelma! Let me comfort you,--let me tell you +how much I love you!" + +And before she could divine his intent, he pressed his lips +passionately on her pale cheek. With a cry she tore herself +violently from his arms and sprang to her feet, trembling in every +limb, + +"What--what is this?" she exclaimed wrathfully. "Are you mad?" + +And still weak and confused from her recent attack of faintness, she +pushed back her hair from her brows and regarded him with a sort of +puzzled horror. + +He flushed deeply, and set his lips hard. + +"I dare say I am," he answered, with a bitter laugh; "in fact, I +know I am! You see, I've betrayed my miserable secret. Will you +forgive me, Lady Errington--Thelma?" He drew nearer to her, and his +eyes darkened with restrained passion. "Matchless beauty!--adorable +woman, as you are!--will you not pardon my crime, if crime it be-- +the crime of loving you? For I do love you!--Heaven only knows how +utterly and desperately!" + +She stood mute, white, almost rigid, with that strange look of +horror frozen, as it were, upon her features. Emboldened by her +silence, he approached and caught her hand,--she wrenched it from +his grasp and motioned him from her with a gesture of such royal +contempt that he quailed before her. All suddenly the flood-gates of +her speech were loosened,--the rising tide of burning indignation +that in its very force had held her dumb and motionless, now broke +forth unrestrainedly. + +"O God!" she cried impetuously, a magnificent glory of disdain +flashing in her jewel-like eyes, "what THING is this that calls +itself a man?--this thief of honor,--this pretended friend? What +have I done, sir, that you should put such deep disgrace as your so- +called LOVE upon me?--what have I SEEMED, that you thus dare to +outrage me by the pollution of your touch? I,--the wife of the +noblest gentleman in the land! Ah!" and she drew a long breath--"and +it is you who speak against my husband--YOU!" She smiled +scornfully,--then with more calmness continued--"You will leave my +house, sir, at once! . . . and never presume to enter it again!" + +And she stepped towards the bell. He looked at her with an evil +leer. + +"Stop a moment!" he said coolly. "Just one moment before you ring. +Pray consider! The servant cannot possibly enter, as the door is +locked." + + "You DARED to lock the door!" she exclaimed, a sudden fear chilling +her heart as she remembered similar manoeuvres on the part of the +Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy--then another thought crossed her mind, and +she began to retreat towards a large painted panel of "Venus" +disporting among cupids and dolphins in the sea. Sir Francis sprang +to her side, and caught her arm in an iron grip--his face was aflame +with baffled spite and vindictiveness. + +"Yes, I DARED!" he muttered with triumphant malice. "And I dared do +more than that! You lay unconscious in my arms,--you beautiful, +bewitching Thelma, and I kissed you--ay! fifty times! You can never +undo those kisses! You can never forget that my lips, as well as +your husband's, have rested on yours--I have had that much joy that +shall never be taken away from me! And if I choose, even now,"--and +he gripped her more closely--"yes, even now I will kiss you, in +spite of you!--who is to prevent me? I will force you to love me, +Thelma--" + +Driven to bay, she struck him with all her force in the face, across +the eyes. + +"Traitor!--liar!--coward!" she gasped breathlessly. "Let me go!" + +Smarting with the pain of the blow, he unconsciously loosened his +grasp--she rushed to the "Venus" panel, and to his utter +discomfiture and amazement he saw it open and close behind her. She +disappeared suddenly and noiselessly as if by magic. With a fierce +exclamation, he threw his whole weight against that secret sliding +door--it resisted all his efforts. He searched for the spring by +which it must have opened,--the whole panel was perfectly smooth and +apparently solid, and the painted "Venus" reclining on her dolphin's +back seemed as though she smiled mockingly at his rage and +disappointment. + +While he was examining it, he heard the sudden, sharp, and +continuous ringing of an electric bell somewhere in the house, and +with a guilty flush on his face he sprang to the drawing-room door +and unlocked it. He was just in time, for scarcely had he turned the +key, when Morris made his appearance. That venerable servitor looked +round the room in evident surprise. + +"Did her ladyship ring?" he inquired, his eyes roving everywhere in +search of his mistress. Sir Francis collected his wits, and forced +himself to seem composed. + +"No," he said coolly. "_I_ rang." He adopted this falsehood as a +means of exit. "Call a hansom, will you?" + +And he sauntered easily into the hall, and got on his hat and great- +coat. Morris was rather bewildered,--but, obedient to the command, +blew the summoning cab-whistle, which was promptly answered. Sir +Francis tossed him half a crown, and entered the vehicle, which +clattered away with him in the direction of Cromwell Road. Stopping +at a particular house in a side street leading from thence, he bade +the cabman wait,--and, ascending the steps, busied himself for some +moments in scribbling something rapidly in pencil on a leaf of his +note-book by the light of the hanging-lamp in the doorway. He then +gave a loud knock, and inquired of the servant who answered it-- + +"Is Mr. Snawley-Grubbs in?" + +"Yes, sir,"--the reply came rather hesitatingly--"but he's having a +party to-night." + +And, in fact, the scraping of violins and the shuffle of dancing +feet were distinctly audible overhead. + +"Oh, well, just mention my name--Sir Francis Lennox. Say I will not +detain him more than five minutes." + +He entered, and was ushered into a small ante-room while the maid +went to deliver her message. He caught sight of his own reflection +in a round mirror over the mantel-piece, and his face darkened as he +saw a dull red ridge across his forehead--the mark of Thelma's well- +directed blow,--the sign-manual of her scorn. A few minutes passed, +and then there came in to him a large man in an expensive dress- +suit,--a man with a puffy, red, Silenus-like countenance--no other +than Mr. Snawley-Grubbs, who hailed him with effusive cordiality. + +"My dear, Sir Francis!" he said in a rich, thick, uncomfortable +voice. "This is an unexpected pleasure! Won't you come upstairs? My +girls are having a little informal dance--just among themselves and +their own young friends--quite simple,--in fact an unpretentious +little affair!" And he rubbed his fat hands, on which twinkled two +or three large diamond rings." But we shall be charmed if you will +join us!" + +"Thanks, not this evening," returned Sir Francis. "It's rather too +late. I should not have intruded upon you at this hour--but I +thought you might possibly like this paragraph for the Snake." + +And he held out with a careless air the paper on which he had +scribbled but a few minutes previously. Mr. Snawley-Grubbs smiled,-- +and fixed a pair of elegant gold-rimmed eye-glasses on his inflamed +crimson nose. + +"I must tell you, though," he observed, before reading, "that it is +too late for this week, at any rate. We've gone to press already." + +"Never mind!" returned Sir Francis indifferently. "Next week will do +as well." + +And he furtively watched Mr. Snawley-Grubbs while he perused the +pencilled scrawl. That gentleman, however, as Editor and Proprietor +of the Snake--a new, but highly successful weekly "society" journal, +was far too dignified and self-important to allow his countenance to +betray his feelings. He merely remarked, as he folded up the little +slip very carefully. + +"Very smart! very smart, indeed! Authentic, of course?" + +Sir Francis drew himself up haughtily. "You doubt my word?" + +"Oh dear, no!" declared Mr. Snawley-Grubbs hastily, venturing to lay +a soothing hand on Sir Francis's shoulder. "Your position, and all +that sort of thing--Naturally you MUST be able to secure correct +information. You can't help it! I assure you the Snake is infinitely +obliged to you for a great many well-written and socially exciting +paragraphs. Only, you see, I myself should never have thought that +so extreme a follower of the exploded old doctrine of noblesse +oblige, as Sir Philip Bruce-Errington, would have started on such a +new line of action at all. But, of course, we are all mortal!" And +he shook his round thick head with leering sagacity. "Well!" he +continued after a pause. "This shall go in without fail next week, I +promise you." + +"You can send me a hundred copies of the issue," said Sir Francis, +taking up his hat to go. "I suppose you're not afraid of an action +for libel?" + +Mr. Snawley-Grubbs laughed--nay, he roared,--the idea seemed so +exquisitely suited to his sense of humor. + +"Afraid? My dear fellow, there's nothing I should like better! It +would establish the Snake, and make my fortune! I would even go to +prison with pleasure. Prison, for a first-class misdemeanant, as I +should most probably be termed, is perfectly endurable." He laughed +again, and escorted Sir Francis to the street-door, where he shook +hands heartily. "You are sure you won't come upstairs and join us? +No? Ah, I see you have a cab waiting. Good-night, good-night!" + +And the Snawley-Grubbs door being closed upon him, Sir Francis re- +entered his cab, and was driven straight to his bachelor lodgings in +Piccadilly. He was in a better humor with himself now,--though he +was still angrily conscious of a smart throbbing across the eyes, +where Thelma's ringed hand had struck him. He found a brief note +from Lady Winsleigh awaiting him. It ran as follows:-- + +"You're playing a losing game this time,--she will believe nothing +without proofs--and even then it will be difficult. You had better +drop the pursuit, I fancy. For once a woman's reputation will escape +you!" + +He smiled bitterly as he read these last words. + +"Not while a society paper exists!" he said to himself. "As long as +there are editors willing to accept the word of a responsible man of +position, for any report, the chastest Diana that ever lived shall +not escape calumny! She wants proofs, does she? She shall have them- +-by Jove! she shall!" + +And instead of going to bed, he went off to a bijou villa in St. +John's Wood,--an elegantly appointed little place, which he rented +and maintained,--and where the popular personage known as Violet +Vere, basked in the very lap of luxury. + +Meanwhile, Thelma paced up and down her own boudoir, into which she +had escaped through the sliding panel which had baffled her admirer. +Her whole frame trembled as she thought of the indignity to which +she had been subjected during her brief unconsciousness,--her face +burned with bitter shame,--she felt as if she were somehow +poisonously infected by those hateful kisses of Lennox,--all her +womanly and wifely instincts were outraged. Her first impulse was to +tell her husband everything the instant he returned. It was she who +had rung the bell which had startled Sir Francis, and she was +surprised that her summons was not answered. She rang again, and +Britta appeared. + +"I wanted Morris," said Thelma quickly. + +"He thought it was the drawing-room bell," responded Britta meekly, +for her "Froken" looked very angry. "I saw him in the hall just now, +letting out Sir Francis Lennox." + +"Has he gone?" demanded Thelma eagerly. + +Britta's wonder increased. "Yes, Froken!" + +Thelma caught her arm. "Tell Morris never, never to let him inside +the house again--NEVER!" and her blue eyes flashed wrathfully. "He +is a wicked man, Britta! You do not know how wicked he is!" + +"Oh yes, I do!" and Britta regarded her mistress very steadfastly. +"I know quite well! But, then, I must not speak! If I dared, I could +tell you some strange things, dear Froken--but you will not hear me. +You know you do not wish me to talk about your grand new friends, +Froken, but--" she paused timidly. + +"Oh, Britta, dear!" said Thelma affectionately taking her hand. "You +know they are not so much my friends as the friends of Sir Philip,-- +and for this reason I must never listen to anything against them. Do +you not see? Of course their ways seem strange to us--but, then, +life in London is so different to life in Norway,--and we cannot all +at once understand--" she broke off, sighing a little. Then she +resumed--"Now you will give Morris my message, Britta--and then come +to me in my bedroom--I am tired, and Philip said I was not to wait +up for him." + +Britta departed, and Thelma went rather slowly up-stairs. It was now +nearly midnight, and she felt languid and weary. Her reflections +began to take a new turn. Suppose she told her husband all that had +occurred, he would most certainly go to Sir Francis and punish him +in some way--there might then be a quarrel in which Philip might +suffer--and all sorts of evil consequences would perhaps result from +her want of reticence. If, on the other hand, she said nothing, and +simply refused to receive Lennox, would not her husband think such +conduct on her part strange? She puzzled over these questions till +her head ached--and finally resolved to keep her own counsel for the +present,--after what had happened. Sir Francis would most probably +not intrude himself again into her presence. "I will ask Mrs. +Lorimer what is best to do," she thought. "She is old and wise, and +she will know." + +That night, as she laid her head on her pillow, and Britta threw the +warm eidredon over her, she shivered a little and asked-- + +"Is it not very cold, Britta?" + +"Very!" responded her little maid. "And it is beginning to snow." + +Thelma looked wistful. "It is all snow and darkness now at the +Altenfjord," she said. + +Britta smiled. "Yes, indeed, Froken! We are better off here than +there." + +"Perhaps!" replied Thelma a little musingly, and then she settled +herself as though to sleep. + +Britta kissed her hand, and retired noiselessly. When she had gone, +Thelma opened her eyes and lay broad awake looking at the flicker of +rosy light flung on the ceiling from the little suspended lamp in +her oratory. All snow and darkness at the Altenfjord! How strange +the picture seemed! She thought of her mother's sepulchre,--how cold +and dreary it must be,--she could see in fancy the long pendent +icicles fringing the entrance to the sea-king's tomb,--the spot +where she and Philip had first met,--she could almost hear the slow, +sullen plash of the black Fjord against the shore. Her maiden life +in Norway--her school days at Arles,--these were now like dreams,-- +dreams that had passed away long, long ago. The whole tenor of her +existence had changed,--she was a wife,--she was soon to be a +mother,--and with this near future of new and sacred joy before her, +why did she to-night so persistently look backward to the past? + +As she lay quiet, watching the glimmering light upon the wall, it +seemed as though her room were suddenly filled with shadowy forms,-- +she saw her mother's sweet, sad, suffering face,--then her father's +sturdy figure and fine, frank features,--then came the flitting +shape of the hapless Sigurd, whose plaintive voice she almost +imagined she could hear,--and feeling that she was growing foolishly +nervous, she closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. In vain,--her mind +began to work on a far more unpleasing train of thought. Why did not +Philip return? Where was he? As though some mocking devil had +answered her, the words, "In the arms of Violet Vere!" as uttered by +Sir Francis Lennox, recurred to her. Overcome by her restlessness, +she started up,--she determined to get out of bed, and put on her +dressing-gown and read,--when her quick ears caught the sound of +steps coming up the stair-case. She recognized her husband's firm +tread, and understood that he was followed by Neville, whose +sleeping-apartment was on the floor above. She listened attentively- +-they were talking together in low tones on the landing outside her +door. + +"I think it would be much better to make a clean breast of it," said +Sir Philip. "She will have to know some day." + +"Your wife? For God's sake, don't tell her!" Neville's voice +replied. "Such a disgraceful--" Here his words sank to a whisper, +and Thelma could not distinguish them. Another minute, and her +husband entered with soft precaution, fearing to awake her--she +stretched out her arms to welcome him, and he hastened to her with +an exclamation of tenderness and pleasure. + +"My darling! Not asleep yet?" + +She smiled,--but there was something very piteous in her smile, had +the dim light enabled him to perceive it. + +"No, not yet, Philip! And yet I think I have been dreaming of--the +Altenfjord." + +"Ah! it must be cold there now," he answered lightly. "It's cold +enough here, in all conscience. To-night there is a bitter east +wind, and snow is falling." + +She heard this account of the weather with almost morbid interest. +Her thoughts instantly betook themselves again to Norway, and dwelt +there. To the last,--before her aching eyes closed in the slumber +she so sorely needed,--she seemed to be carried away in fancy to a +weird stretch of gloom-enveloped landscape where she stood entirely +alone, vaguely wondering at the dreary scene. "How strange it +seems!" she murmured almost aloud. "All snow and darkness at the +Altenfjord!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +"Le temps ou nous nous sommes aimes n'a guere dure, jeune fille; il +a passe comme un coup de vent!" + + Old Breton Ballad. + + +The next morning dawned, cold and dismal. A dense yellow fog hung +over the metropolis like a pall--the street lamps were lighted, but +their flare scarcely illumined the thoroughfares, and the chill of +the snow-burdened air penetrated into the warmest rooms, and made +itself felt even by the side of the brightest fires. Sir Philip woke +with an uncomfortable sense of headache and depression, and +grumbled,--as surely every Englishman has a right to grumble, at the +uncompromising wretchedness of his country's winter climate. His +humor was not improved when a telegram arrived before breakfast, +summoning him in haste to a dull town in one of the Midland +counties, on pressing business connected with his candidature for +Parliament. + +"What a bore!" he exclaimed, showing the missive to his wife. "I +MUST go,--and I shan't be able to get back tonight. You'll be all +alone, Thelma. I wish you'd go to the Winsleighs!" + +"Why?" said Thelma quietly. "I shall much prefer to be here. I do +not mind, Philip. I am accustomed to be alone." + +Something in her tone struck him as particularly sad, and he looked +at her intently. + +"Now, my darling," he said suddenly, "if this Parliamentary bother +is making you feel worried or vexed in any way, I'll throw it all +up--by Jove, I will!" And he drew her into his warm embrace. "After +all" he added, with a laugh, "what does it matter! The country can +get on without me!" + +Thelma smiled a little. + +"You must not talk so foolishly, Philip," she said tenderly. "It is +wrong to begin a thing of importance, and not go through with it. +And I am not worried or vexed at all. What would people say of me if +I, your wife, were, for my own selfish comfort and pleasure of +having you always with me, to prevent you from taking a good place +among the men of your nation? Indeed, I should deserve much blame! +And so, though it is a gloomy day for you, poor boy,--you must go to +this place where you are wanted, and I shall think of you all the +time you are gone, and shall be so happy to welcome you home to- +morrow!" + +And she kissed and clung to him for a moment in silence. All that +day Philip was haunted by the remembrance of the lingering +tenderness of her farewell embrace. By ten o'clock he was gone, +taking Neville with him; and after her household duties were over, +Thelma prepared herself to go and lunch with old Mrs. Lorimer, and +see what she would advise concerning the affair of Sir Francis +Lennox. But, at the same time, she resolved that nothing should make +her speak of the reports that were afloat about her husband and +Violet Vere. + +"I know it is all false," she said to herself over and over again. +"And the people here are as silly as the peasants in Bosekop, ready +to believe any untruth so long as it gives them something to talk +about. But they may chatter as they please--I shall not say one +word, not even to Philip--for it would seem as if I mistrusted him." + +Thus she put away all the morbid fancies that threatened to oppress +her, and became almost cheerful. + +And while she made her simple plans for pleasantly passing the long, +dull day of her husband's enforced absence, her friend, Lady +Winsleigh, was making arrangements of a very different nature. Her +ladyship had received a telegram from Sir Francis Lennox that +morning. The pink missive had apparently put her in an excellent +humor, though, after reading it, she crumpled it up and threw it in +the waste-paper basket, from which receptacle, Louise Renaud, her +astute attendant, half an hour later extracted it, secreting it in +her own pocket for private perusal at leisure. She ordered her +brougham, saying she was going out on business,--and before +departing, she took from her dressing-case certain bank-notes and +crammed them hastily into her purse--a purse which, in all good +faith, she handed to her maid to put in her sealskin muff-bag. Of +course, Louise managed to make herself aware of its contents,--but +when her ladyship at last entered her carriage her unexpected order, +"To the Brilliant Theatre, Strand," was sufficient to startle +Briggs, and cause him to exchange surprise signals with "Mamzelle," +who merely smiled a prim, incomprehensible smile. + +"WHERE did your la'ship say?" asked Briggs dubiously. + +"Are you getting deaf, Briggs?" responded his mistress pleasantly. +"To the Brilliant Theatre!" She raised her voice, and spoke with +distinct emphasis. There was no mistaking her. Briggs touched his +hat,--in the same instant he winked at Lousie, and then the carriage +rolled away. + +At night, the Brilliant Theatre is a pretty little place,-- +comfortable, cosy, bright, and deserving of its name;--in broad day, +it is none of these things. A squalid dreariness seems to have +settled upon it--it has a peculiar atmosphere of its own--an +atmosphere dark, heavy, and strangely flavored with odors of +escaping gas and crushed orange-peel. Behind the scenes, these odors +mingle with a chronic, all-pervading smell of beer--beer, which the +stranger's sensitive nose detects directly, in spite of the choking +clouds of dust which arise from the boards at the smallest movement +of any part of the painted scenery. The Brilliant had gone through +much ill-fortune--its proprietors never realized any financial +profit till they secured Violet Vere. With her came prosperity. Her +utter absence of all reserve--the frankness with which she threw +modesty to the winds,--the vigor with which she danced a regular +"break-down,"--roaring a comic song of the lowest type, by way of +accompaniment,--the energetic manner in which, metaphorically +speaking, she kicked at the public with her shapely legs,--all this +overflow of genius on her part drew crowds to the Brilliant nightly, +and the grateful and happy managers paid her a handsome salary, +humored all her caprices, and stinted and snubbed for her sake, all +the rest of the company. She was immensely popular--the "golden +youth" of London raved about her dyed hair, painted eyes, and +carmined lips--even her voice, as coarse as that of a dustman, was +applauded to the echo, and her dancing excited the wildest +enthusiasm. Dukes sent her presents of diamond ornaments--gifts of +value which they would have possibly refused to their own wives and +daughters,--Royal Highnesses thought it no shame to be seen lounging +near her stage dressing-room door,--in short, she was in the zenith +of her career, and, being thoroughly unprincipled, audaciously +insolent, and wholly without a conscience,--she enjoyed herself +immensely. + +At the very time when Lady Winsleigh's carriage was nearing the +Strand, the grand morning rehearsal of a new burlesque was "on" at +the Brilliant--and Violet's harsh tones, raised to a sort of rough +masculine roar, were heard all over the theatre, as she issued +commands or made complaints according to her changeful humors. She +sat in an elevated position above the stage on a jutting beam of +wood painted to resemble the gnarled branch of a tree,--swinging her +legs to and fro and clinking the heels of her shoes together in time +to the mild scraping of a violin, the player whereof was "trying +over" the first few bars of the new "jig" in which she was ere long +to distinguish herself. She was a handsome woman, with a fine, fair +skin, and large, full, dark eyes--she had a wide mouth, which, +nearly always on the grin, displayed to the full her strong white +teeth,--her figure was inclined to excessive embonpoint, but this +rather endeared her to her admirers than otherwise,--many of these +gentlemen being prone to describe her fleshly charms by the epithet +"Prime!" as though she were a fatting pig or other animal getting +ready for killing. + +"Tommy! Tommy!" she screeched presently. "Are you going to sleep? Do +you expect me to dance to a dirge, you lazy devil!" + +Tommy, the player of the violin, paused in his efforts, and looked +up drearily. He was an old man, with a lean, long body and pinched +features--his lips had a curious way, too, of trembling when he +spoke, as if he were ready to cry. + +"I can't help it," he said slowly. "I don't know it yet. I must +practice it a bit at home. My sight's not so good as it used to be--" + + "Such a pair of optics, love, you've never, never seen-- + One my mother blacked last night, the tother it is green!" + +sang Violet, to the infinite delight of all the unwashed-looking +supernumeraries and ballet-girls, who were scattered about the +stage, talking and laughing. + +"Shut up, Tommy!" she continued. "You're always talking about your +eyesight. I warn you, if you say too much about it you'll lose your +place. We don't want blind fiddlers in the Brilliant. Put down you +catgut screamer, and fetch me a pint. Ask for the Vere's own tipple- +-they'll twig!" + +Tommy obeyed, and shuffled off on his errand. As he departed,--a +little man with a very red face, wearing a stove-pipe hat very much +on one side, bounced on the stage as if some one had thrown him +there like a ball. + +"Now, ladies, ladies!" he shouted warningly. "Attention! Once again, +please! The last figure once again!" The straggling groups scrambled +hastily into something like order, and the little man continued-- +"One, two, three! Advance--retreat--left, right! Very well, indeed! +Arms up a little more, Miss Jenkins--so! toes well pointed--curtsy-- +retire! One, two, three! swift slide to the left wing--forward! +Round--take hands--all smile, please!" This general smile was +apparently not quite satisfactory, for he repeated persuasively-- +"All smile, please! So! Round again--more quickly--now break the +circle in a centre--enter Miss Vere--"he paused, growing still +redder in the face, and demanded, "Where is Miss Vere?" + +He was standing just beneath the painted bough of the sham tree, and +in one second his hat was dexterously kicked off, and two heels met +with a click round his neck. + +"Here I am, pickaninny!" retorted Miss Vere holding him fast in this +novel embrace, amid the laughter of the supers. "You're getting as +blind as Tommy! Steady, steady now, donkey!--steady--woa!" And in a +thrice she stood upright, one foot planted firmly on each of his +shoulders. + +"No weight, am I, darling?" she went on jeeringly, and with an +inimitably derisive air she put up an eye-glass and surveyed the top +of his head. "You want a wig, my dear--you do, indeed! Come with me +to-morrow, and I'll buy you one to suit your complexion. Your wife +won't know you!" + +And with a vigorous jump she sprang down from her position, managing +to give him a smart hit on the nose as she did so--and leaping to +the centre of the stage, she posed herself to commence her dance-- +when Tommy came creeping back in his slow and dismal fashion, +bearing something in a pewter pot. + +"That's the ticket!" she cried as she perceived him. "I'm as dry as +a whole desert! Give it here!" And she snatched the mug from the +feeble hand of her messenger and began drinking eagerly. + +The little red-faced man interposed. "Now, Miss Vi," he said, "is +that brandy?" + +"Rather so!" returned the Vere, with a knowing wink, "and a good +many things besides. It's a mixture. The 'Vere's Own!' Ha, ha! Might +be the name of a regiment!" + +And she buried her mouth and nose again in the tankard. + +"Look here," said the little man again. "Why not wait till after the +dance? It's bad for you before." + +"Oh, is it, indeed!" screamed Violet, raising her face, which became +suddenly and violently flushed. "O good Lord! Are you a temperance +preacher? Teach your granny! Bad for me? Say another word, and I'll +box your ears for you! You braying jackass!--you snivelling idiot! +Who makes the Brilliant draw? You or I? Tell me that, you staring +old--" + +Here Tommy, who had for some minutes been vainly endeavoring to +attract her attention, raised his weak voice to a feeble shout. + +"I say, Miss Vere! I've been trying to tell you, but you won't +listen! There's a lady waiting to see you!" + +"A what?" she asked. + +"A lady!" continued Tommy, in loud tones. "A lady of title! Wants to +see you in private! Won't detain you long!" + +Violet Vere raised her pewter mug once more, and drained off its +contents. + +"Lord, ain't I honored!" she said, smacking her lips with a grin. "A +lady of title to see me! Let her wait! Now then!" and snapping her +fingers, she began her dance, and went through it to the end, with +her usual vigor and frankness. When she had finished, she turned to +the red-faced man who had watched her evolutions with much delight +in spite of the abuse she had heaped upon him, and said with an +affected, smirking drawl-- + +"Show the lady of title into my dressing-room! I shall be ready for +her in ten minutes. Be sure to mention that I am very shy,--and +unaccustomed to company!" + +And, giggling gently like an awkward school-girl, she held down her +head with feigned bashfulness, and stepped mincingly across the +stage with such a ludicrous air of prim propriety, that all her +associates burst out laughing, and applauded her vociferously. She +turned and curtsied to them demurely--then suddenly raising one leg +in a horizontal position, she twirled it rapidly in their faces,-- +then she gave a little shocked cough behind her hand, grinned, and +vanished. + +When, in the stipulated ten minutes, she was ready to receive her +unknown visitor, she was quite transformed. She had arrayed herself +in a trailing gown of rich black velvet, fastened at the side with +jet clasps--a cluster of natural, innocent, white violets nestled in +the fall of Spanish lace at her throat--her face was pale with +pearl-powder,--and she had eaten a couple of scented bon-bons to +drown the smell of her recent brandy-tipple. She reclined gracefully +in an easy chair, pretending to read, and she rose with an admirably +acted air of startled surprise, as one of the errand boys belonging +to the Brilliant tapped at her door, and in answer to her "Come in!" +announced, "Lady Winsleigh!" + +A faint, sweet, questioning smile played on the Vere's wide mouth. + +"I am not aware that I have the honor of--" she began, modulating +her voice to the requirements of fashionable society, and wondering +within herself "what the d--l" this woman in the silk and sable-fur +costume wanted. + +Lady Winsleigh in the meantime stared at her with cold, critical +eyes. + +"She is positively rather handsome," she thought. "I can quite +imagine a certain class of men losing their heads about her." Aloud +she said-- + +"I must apologize for this intrusion, Miss Vere! I dare say you have +never heard my name--I am not fortunate enough to be famous,--as YOU +are." This with a killing satire in her smile. "May I sit down? +Thanks! I have called upon you in the hope that you may perhaps be +able to give me a little information in a private matter--a matter +concerning the happiness of a very dear friend of mine." She paused- +-Violet Vere sat silent. After a minute or two, her ladyship +continued in a somewhat embarrassed manner-- + +"I believe you know a gentleman with whom I am also acquainted--Sir +Philip Bruce-Errington." + +Miss Vere raised her eyes with charming languor and a slow smile. + +"Oh yes!" + +"He visits you, doesn't he?" + +"Frequently!". + +"I'm afraid you'll think me rude and inquisitive," continued Lady +Winsleigh, with a coaxing air, "but--but may I ask--" + +"Anything in the world," interrupted Violet coolly. "Ask away! But +I'm not bound to answer." + +Lady Winsleigh reddened with indignation. "What an insulting +creature!" she thought. But, after all, she had put herself in her +present position, and she could not very well complain if she met +with a rebuff. She made another effort. + +"Sir Francis Lennox told me--" she began. + +The Vere interrupted her with a cheerful laugh. + +"Oh, you come from him, do you? Now, why didn't you tell me that at +first? It's all right! You're a great friend of Lennie's, aren't +you?" + +Lady Winsleigh sat erect and haughty, a deadly chill of disgust and +fear at her heart. This creature called her quondam lover, "Lennie"- +-even as she herself had done,--and she, the proud, vain woman of +society and fashion shuddered at the idea that there should be even +this similarity between herself and the "thing" called Violet Vere. +She replied stiffly-- + +"I have known him a long time." + +"He's a nice fellow," went on Miss Yere easily--"a LEETLE stingy +sometimes, but never mind that! You want to know about Sir Philip +Errington, and I'll tell you. He's chosen to mix himself up with +some affairs of mine--" + +"What affairs?" asked Lady Winsleigh rather eagerly. + +"They don't concern you," returned Miss Vere calmly, "and we needn't +talk about them! But they concern Sir Philip,--or he thinks they do, +and insists on seeing me about them, and holding long conversations, +which bore me excessively!" + +She yawned slightly, smothering her yawn in a dainty lace +handkerchief, and then went on-- + +"He's a moral young man, don't you know--and I never could endure +moral men! I can't get on with them at all!" + +"Then you don't like him?" questioned Lady Winsleigh in rather a +disappointed tone. + +"No, I don't!" said the Vere candidly. "He's not my sort. But, Lord +bless you! I know how he's getting talked about because he comes +here--and serve him right too! He shouldn't meddle with my +business." She paused suddenly and drew a letter from her pocket,-- +laughed and tossed it across the table. + +"You can read that, if you like," she said indifferently. "He wrote +it, and sent it round to me last night." + +Lady Winsleigh's eyes glistened eagerly,--she recognized Errington's +bold, clear hand at once,--and as she read, an expression of triumph +played on her features. She looked up presently and said-- + +"Have you any further use for this letter, Miss Vere? Or--will you +allow me to keep it?" + +The Vere seemed slightly suspicious of this proposal, but looked +amused too. + +"Why, what do you want it for?" she inquired bluntly. "To tease him +about me?" + +Lady Winsleigh forced a smile. "Well--perhaps!" she admitted, then +with an air of gentleness and simplicity she continued, "I think, +Miss Vere, with you, that it is very wrong of Sir Philip,--very +absurd of him, in fact--to interfere with your affairs, whatever +they may be,--and as it is very likely annoying to you--" + +"It IS," interrupted Violet decidedly. + +"Then, with the help of this letter--which, really--really--excuse +me for saying it!--quite compromises him," and her ladyship looked +amiably concerned about it, "I might perhaps persuade him not to-- +to--intrude upon you--you understand? But if you object to part with +the letter, never mind! If I did not fear to offend you, I should +ask you to exchange it for--for something more--well! let us say, +something more substantial--" + +"Don't beat about the bush!" said Violet, with a sudden oblivion of +her company manners. "You mean money?" + +Lady Winsleigh smiled. "As you put it so frankly, Miss Vere--" she +began. + +"Of course! I'm always frank," returned the Vere, with a loud laugh. +"Besides, what's the good of pretending? Money's the only thing +worth having--it pays your butcher, baker, and dressmaker--and how +are you to get along if you CAN'T pay them, I'd like to know! Lord! +if all the letters I've got from fools were paying stock instead of +waste-paper, I'd shut up shop, and leave the Brilliant to look out +for itself!" + +Lady Winsleigh felt she had gained her object, and she could now +afford to be gracious. + +"That would be a great loss to the world," she remarked sweetly. "An +immense loss! London could scarcely get on without Violet Vere!" +Here she opened her purse and took out some bank-notes, which she +folded and slipped inside an envelope. "Then I may have the letter?" +she continued. + +"You may and welcome!" returned Violet. + +Lady Winsleigh instantly held out the envelope, which she as +instantly clutched. "Especially if you'll tell Sir Philip Errington +to mind his own business!" She paused, and a dark flush mounted to +her brow--one of those sudden flushes that purpled rather than +crimsoned her face. "Yes," she repeated, "as he's a friend of yours, +just tell him I said he was to mind his own business! Lord! what +does he want to come here and preach at me for! I don't want his +sermons! Moral!" here she laughed rather hoarsely, "I'm as moral as +any one on the stage! Who says I'm not! Take 'em all round--there's +not a soul behind the footlights more open and above-board than I +am!" + +And her eyes flashed defiantly. + +"She's been drinking?" thought Lady Winsleigh disgustedly. In fact, +the "Vere's Own" tipple had begun to take its usual effect, which +was to make the Vere herself both blatant and boisterous. + +"I'm sure," said her ladyship with frigid politeness, "that you are +everything that is quite charming, Miss Vere! I have a great respect +for the--the ornaments of the English stage. Society has quite +thrown down its former barriers, you know!--the members of your +profession are received in the very best circles--" + +"I ain't!" said Violet, with ungrammatical candor. "Your Irvings and +your Terrys, your Mary Andersons and your Langtrys,--they're good +enough for your fine drawing-rooms, and get more invitations out +than they can accept. And none of them have got half my talent, I +tell you! Lord bless my soul! if they're respectable enough for +you,--so am I!" + +And she struck her hand emphatically on the table, Lady Winsleigh +looked at her with a slight smile. + +"I must really say good-bye!" she said, rising and gathering her +furs about her. "I could talk with you all the morning, Miss Vere, +but I have so many engagements! Besides I mustn't detain YOU! I'm so +much obliged to you for your kind reception of me!" + +"Don't mention, it!" and Violet glanced her over with a kind of +sullen sarcasm. "I'm bound to please Lennie when I can, you know!" + +Again Lady Winsleigh shivered a little, but forced herself to shake +hands with the notorious stage-Jezebel. + +"I shall come and see you in the new piece," she said graciously. "I +always take a box on first nights? And your dancing is so exquisite! +The very poetry of motion! So pleased to have met you! Good-bye!" + +And with a few more vague compliments and remarks about the weather, +Lady Winsleigh took her departure. Left alone, the actress threw +herself back in her chair and laughed. + +"That woman's up to some mischief," she exclaimed sotto voce, "and +so is Lennie! I wonder what's their little game? _I_ don't care, as +long as they'll keep the high-and-mighty Errington in his place. I'm +tired of him! Why does he meddle with MY affairs?" Her brows knitted +into a frown. "As if he or anybody else could persuade me to go back +to--," she paused, and bit her lips angrily. Then she opened the +envelope Lady Winsleigh had left with her, and pulled out the bank- +notes inside. "Let me see--five, ten, fifteen, twenty! Not bad pay, +on the whole! It'll just cover the bill for my plush mantle. Hullo! +Who's there?" + +Some one knocked at her door. + +"Come in!" she cried. + +The feeble Tommy presented himself. His weak mouth trembled more +than ever, and he was apparently conscious of this, for he passed +his hand nervously across it two or three times. + +"Well, what's up?" inquired the "star" of the Brilliant, fingering +her bank-notes as she spoke. + +"Miss Vere," stammered Tommy, "I venture to ask you a favor,--could +you kindly, very kindly lend me ten shillings till to-morrow night? +I am so pressed just now--and my wife is ill in bed--and--"he +stopped, and his eyes sought her face hopefully, yet timidly. + +"You shouldn't have a wife, Tommy!" averred Violet with blunt +frankness. "Wives are expensive articles. Besides, I never lend. I +never give--except to public charities where one's name gets +mentioned in the papers. I'm obliged to do that, you know, by way of +advertisement. Ten shillings! Why, I can't afford ten pence! My +bills would frighten you, Tommy! There go along, and don't cry, for +goodness sake! Let your fiddle cry for you!" + +"Oh, Miss Vere," once more pleaded Tommy, "if you knew how my wife +suffers--" + +The actress rose and stamped her foot impatiently. + +"Bother your wife!" she cried angrily, "and you too! Look out! or I +tell the manager we've got a beggar at the Brilliant. Don't stare at +me like that! Go to the d--l with you!" + +Tommy slunk off abashed and trembling, and the Vere began to sing, +or rather croak, a low comic song, while she threw over her +shoulders a rich mantle glittering with embroidered trimmings, and +poised a coquettish Paris model hat on her thick untwisted coils of +hair. Thus attired, she passed out of her dressing-room, locking the +door behind her, and after a brief conversation with the jocose +acting manager, whom she met on her way out, she left the theatre, +and took a cab to the Criterion, where the young Duke of Moorlands, +her latest conquest, had invited her to a sumptuous luncheon with +himself and friends, all men of fashion, who were running through +what money they had as fast as they could go. + +Lady Winsleigh, on her way home, was tormented by sundry +uncomfortable thoughts and sharp pricks of conscience. Her interview +with Violet Vere had instinctively convinced her that Sir Philip was +innocent of the intrigue imputed to him, and yet,--the letter she +had now in her possession seemed to prove him guilty. And though she +felt herself to be playing a vile part, she could not resist the +temptation of trying what the effect would be of this compromising +document on Thelma's trusting mind. It was undoubtedly a very +incriminating epistle--any lawyer would have said as much, while +blandly pocketing his fee for saying it. It was written off in +evident haste, and ran as follows:-- + +"Let me see you once more on the subject you know of. Why will you +not accept the honorable position offered to you? There shall be no +stint of money--all the promises I have made I am quite ready to +fulfill--you shall lose nothing by being gentle. Surely you cannot +continue to seem so destitute of all womanly feeling and pity? I +will not believe that you would so deliberately condemn to death a +man who has loved, and who loves you still so faithfully, and who, +without you, is utterly weary of life and broken-hearted! Think once +more--and let my words carry more weight with you!" + +"BRUCE-ERRINGTON." + +This was all, but more than enough! + +"I wonder what he means," thought Lady Winsleigh. "It looks as if he +were in love with the Vere and she refused to reciprocate. It MUST +be that. And yet that doesn't accord with what the creature herself +said about his 'preaching at her.' He wouldn't do that if he were in +love." + +She studied every word of the letter again and again, and finally +folded it up carefully and placed it in her pocket-book. + +"Innocent or guilty, Thelma must see it," she decided. "I wonder how +she'll take it! If she wants a proof--it's one she'll scarcely deny. +Some women would fret themselves to death over it--but I shouldn't +wonder if she sat down under it quite calmly without a word of +complaint." She frowned a little. "Why must SHE always be superior +to others of her sex! How I detest that still solemn smile of hers +and those big baby-blue eyes! I think if Philip had married any +other woman than she--a woman more like the rest of us who'd have +gone with her time,--I could have forgiven him more easily. But to +pick up a Norwegian peasant and set her up as a sort of moral +finger-post to society--and then to go and compromise himself with +Violet Vere--that's a kind of thing I CAN'T stand! I'd rather be +anything in the world than a humbug!" + +Many people desire to be something they are not, and her ladyship +quite unconsciously echoed this rather general sentiment. She was, +without knowing it, such an adept in society humbug, that she even +humbugged herself. She betrayed herself as she betrayed others, and +told little soothing lies to her own conscience as she told them to +her friends. There are plenty of women like her,--women of pleasant +courtesy and fashion, to whom truth is mere coarseness,--and with +whom polite lying passes for perfect breeding. She was not aware, as +she was driven along Park Lane to her own residence, that she +carried with her on the box of her brougham a private detective in +the person of Briggs. Perched stiffly on his seat, with arms tightly +folded, this respectable retainer was quite absorbed in meditation, +so much so that he exchanged not a word with his friend, the +coachman, beside him. He had his own notions of propriety,--he +considered that his mistress had no business whatever to call on an +actress of Violet Vere's repute,--and he resolved that whether he +were reproved for over-officiousness or not, nothing should prevent +him from casually mentioning to Lord Winsleigh the object of her +ladyship's drive that morning. + +"For," mused Briggs gravely, "a lady 'as responsibilities, and +'owever she forgets 'erself, appearances 'as to be kep' up." + +With the afternoon, the fog which had hung over the city all day, +deepened and darkened. Thelma had lunched with Mrs. Lorimer, and had +enjoyed much pleasant chat with that kindly, cheerful old lady. She +had confided to her, part of the story of Sir Francis Lennox's +conduct, carefully avoiding every mention of the circumstance which +had given rise to it,--namely, the discussion about Violet Vere. She +merely explained that she had suddenly fainted, in which condition +Sir Francis had taken advantage of her helplessness to insult her. + +Mrs. Lorimer was highly indignant. "Tell your husband all about it, +my dear!" she advised. "He's big enough, and strong enough, to give +that little snob a good trouncing! My patience! I wish George were +in London--he'd lend a hand and welcome!" + +And the old lady nodded her head violently over the sock she was +knitting,--the making of socks for her beloved son was her principal +occupation and amusement. + +"But I hear," said Thelma, "that it is against the law to strike any +one, no matter how you have been insulted. If so,--then Philip would +be punished for attacking Sir Francis, and that would not be fair." + +"You didn't think of that, child, when you struck Lennox yourself," +returned Mrs. Lorimer, laughing. "And I guarantee you gave him a +good hard blow,--and serve him right! Never mind what comes of it, +my dearie--just tell your husband as soon as ever he comes home, and +let him take the matter into his own hands. He's a fine man--he'll +know how to defend the pretty wife he loves so well!" And she +smiled, while her shining knitting-needles clicked faster than ever. + +Thelma's face saddened a little. "I think I am not worthy of his +love," she said sorrowfully. + +Mrs. Lorimer looked at her with some inquisitiveness. + +"What makes you say that, my dear?" + +"Because I feel it so much," she replied. "Dear Mrs. Lorimer, you +cannot, perhaps, understand--but when he married me, it seemed as if +the old story of the king and the beggar-maid were being repeated +over again. I sought nothing but his love--his love was, and is my +life! These riches--these jewels and beautiful things he surrounds +me with--I do not care for them at all, except for the reason that +he wishes me to have them. I scarcely understand their value, for I +have been poor all my life, and yet I have wanted nothing. I do not +think wealth is needful to make one happy. But love--ah! I could not +live without it--and now--now--" She paused, and her eyes filled +with sudden tears. + +"Now what?" asked Mrs. Lorimer gently. + +"Now," continued the girl in a low voice, "my heart is always +afraid! Yes! I am afraid of losing my husband's love. Ah, do not +laugh at me, dear Mrs. Lorimer! You know people who are much +together sometimes get tired,--tired of seeing the same face +always,--the same form--" + +"Are YOU tired, dearie?" asked the old lady meaningly. + +"I? Tired of Philip? I am only happy when he is with me!" And her +eyes deepened with passionate tenderness. "I would wish to live and +die beside him, and I should not care if I never saw another human +face than his!" + +"Well, and don't you think he has the same feelings for you?" + +"Men are different, I think," returned Thelma musingly. "Now, love +is everything to me--but it may not be everything to Philip. I do +believe that love is only part of a man's life, while it is ALL a +woman's. Clara told me once that most husbands wearied of their +wives, though they would not always confess it--" + +"Clara Winsleigh's modern social doctrines are false, my dear!" +interrupted Mrs. Lorimer quickly. "She isn't satisfied with her own +marriage, and she thinks everybody must be as discontented as +herself. Now, my husband and I lived always together for five and +twenty years,--and we were lovers to the last day, when my darling +died with his hand in mine--and--and--if it hadn't been for my boy,- +-I should have died too!" + +And two bright tears fell glittering on the old lady's knitting. + +Thelma took her hand and kissed it fondly. "I can understand that," +she said softly; "but still,--still I do believe it is difficult to +keep love when you have won it! It is, perhaps, easy to win--but I +am sure it is hard to keep!" + +Mrs. Lorimer looked at her earnestly. + +"My dear child, don't let that frivolous Winsleigh woman put +nonsense into your pretty head. You are too sensible to take such a +morbid view of things,--and you mustn't allow your wholesome fresh +nature to be contaminated by the petulant, wrong-headed notions that +cloud the brains of idle, fashionable, useless women. Believe me, +good men don't tire of their wives--and Sir Philip is a good man. +Good wives never weary their husbands--and you are a good wife--and +you will be a good, sweet mother. Think of that new delight so soon +coming for you,--and leave all the modern, crazy, one-sided notions +of human life to the French and Russian novelists. Tut-tut!" +continued the old lady tenderly. "A nice little ladyship you are,-- +worrying yourself about nothing! Send Philip to me when he comes +home--I'll scold him for leaving his bird to mope in her London +cage!" + +"I do not mope," declared Thelma. "And you must not scold him, +please! Poor boy! he is working so very hard, and has so much to +attend to. He wants to distinguish himself for--for my sake!" + +"That looks very much as if he were tired of you!" laughed Mrs. +Lorimer. "Though I dare say you'd like him to stay at home and make +love to you all day! Silly girl! You want the world to be a sort of +Arcadia, with you as Phyllis, and Sir Philip as Corydon! My dear, +we're living in the nineteenth century, and the days of fond +shepherds and languishing shepherdesses are past!" + +Thelma laughed too, and felt soon ashamed of her depression. The +figure of Violet Vere now and then danced before her like a mocking +will-o'-the-wisp--but her pride forbade her to mention this,--the +actual source of all her vague troubles. + +She left Mrs. Lorimer's house, which was near Holland Park, about +four o'clock, and as she was passing Church Street, Kensington, she +bade her coachman drive up to the Carmelite Church there, familiarly +known as the "Carms." She entered the sacred edifice, where the +service of Benediction was in progress; and, kneeling down, she +listened to the exquisite strains of the solemn music that pealed +through those dim and shadowy aisles, and a sense of the most +perfect peace settled soothingly on her soul. Clasping her gentle +hands, she prayed with innocent and heart-felt earnestness--not for +herself,--never for herself,--but always, always for that dear, most +dear one, for whom every beat of her true heart was a fresh vow of +undying and devoted affection. + +"Dear God!" she whispered, "if I love him too much, forgive me! Thou +who art all Love, wilt pardon me this excess of love! Bless my +darling always, and teach me how to be more worthy of Thy goodness +and his tenderness!" + +And when she left the church, she was happier and more light-hearted +than she had been for many a long day. She drove home, heedless of +the fog and cold, dismal aspect of the weather, and resolved to go +and visit Lady Winsleigh in the evening, so that when Philip came +back on the morrow, she might be able to tell him that she had +amused herself, and had not been lonely. + +But when she arrived at her own door, Morris, who opened it, +informed her that Lady Winsleigh was waiting in the drawing-room to +see her, and had been waiting some time. Thelma hastened thither +immediately, and held out her hands joyously to her friend. + +"I am so sorry you have had to wait, Clara!" she began. "Why did you +not send word and say you were coming? Philip is away and will not +be back to-night, and I have been lunching with Mrs. Lorimer, and-- +why, what makes you look so grave?" + +Lady Winsleigh regarded her fixedly. How radiantly lovely the young +wife looked!--her cheeks had never been more delicately rosy, or her +eyes more brilliant. The dark fur cloak she wore with its rich sable +trimmings, and the little black velvet toque that rested on her fair +curls, set off the beauty of her clear skin to perfection, and her +rival, who stood gazing at her with such close scrutiny, envied her +more than ever as she was once again reluctantly forced to admit to +herself the matchless loveliness of the innocent creature whose +happiness she now sought to destroy. + +"Do I look grave, Thelma?" she said with a slight smile. "Well, +perhaps I've a reason for my gravity. And so your husband is away?" + +"Yes. He went quite early this morning,--a telegram summoned him and +he was obliged to go." Here she drew up a chair to the fire, and +began to loosen her wraps. "Sit down, Clara! I will ring for tea." + +"No, don't ring," said Lady Winsleigh. "Not yet! I want to talk to +you privately." She sank languidly on a velvet lounge and looked +Thelma straight in the eyes. + +"Dear Thelma," she continued in a sweetly tremulous, compassionate +voice. "Can you bear to hear something very painful and shocking, +something that I'm afraid will grieve you very much?" + +The color fled from the girl's fair face--her eyes grew startled. + +"What do you mean, Clara? Is it anything about--about Philip?" + +Lady Winsleigh bent her head in assent, but remained silent. + +"If," continued Thelma, with a little return of the rosy hue to her +cheeks. "If it is something else about that--that person at the +theatre, Clara, I would rather not hear it! I think I have been +wrong in listening to any such stories--it is so seldom that gossip +of any kind is true. It is not a wife's duty to receive scandals +about her husband. And suppose he does see Miss Vere, how do I know +that it may not be on business for some friend of his?--because I do +know that on that night when he went behind the scenes at the +Brilliant, he said it was on business. Mr. Lovelace used often to go +and see Miss Mary Anderson, all to persuade her to take a play +written by a friend of his--and Philip, who is always kind-hearted, +may perhaps be doing something of the same sort. I feel I have been +wicked to have even a small doubt of my husband's love,--so, Clara, +do not let us talk any more on a subject which only displeases me." + +"You must choose your own way of life, of course," said Lady +Winsleigh coldly. "But you draw rather foolish comparisons, Thelma. +There is a wide difference between Mary Anderson and Violet Vere. +Besides, Mr. Lovelace is a bachelor,--he can do as he likes and go +where he likes without exciting comment. However, whether you are +angry with me or not, I feel I should not be your true friend if I +did not show you--THIS. You know your husband's writing!" + +And she drew out the fatal letter, and continued, watching her +victim as she spoke, "This was sent by Sir Philip to Violet Vere +last night,--she gave it to me herself this morning." + +Thelma's hand trembled as she took the paper. + +"Why should I read it?" she faltered mechanically. + +Lady Winsleigh raised her eyebrows and frowned impatiently. + +"Why--why? Because it is your duty to do so! Have you no pride? Will +you allow your husband to write such a letter as that to another +woman,--and SUCH a woman too! without one word of remonstrance? You +owe it to yourself--to your own sense of honor--to resent and resist +such treatment on his part! Surely the deepest love cannot pardon +deliberate injury and insult." + +"My love can pardon anything," answered the girl in a low voice, and +then slowly, very slowly, she opened the folded sheet--slowly she +read every word it contained,--words that stamped themselves one by +one on her bewildered brain and sent it reeling into darkness and +vacancy. She felt sick and cold--she stared fixedly at her husband's +familiar handwriting. "A man who has loved and who loves you still, +and who without you is utterly weary and broken-hearted!" + +Thus he wrote of himself to--to Violet Vere! It seemed incredible-- +yet it was true! She heard a rushing sound in her ears--the room +swung round dizzily before her eyes--yet she sat, still, calm and +cold, holding the letter and speaking no word. + +Lady Winsleigh watched her, irritated at her passionless demeanor. + +"Well!" she exclaimed at last. "Have you nothing to say?" + +Thelma looked up, her eyes burning with an intense feverish light. + +"Nothing!" she replied. + +"NOTHING?" repeated her ladyship with emphatic astonishment. + +"Nothing against Philip," continued the girl steadily. "For the +blame is not his, but mine! That he is weary and broken-hearted must +be my fault--though I cannot yet understand what I have done. But it +must be something, because if I were all that he wished he would not +have grown so tired." She paused and her pale lips quivered. "I am +sorry," she went on with dreamy pathos, "sorrier for him than for +myself, because now I see I am in the way of his happiness." A +quiver of agony passed over her face,--she fixed her large bright +eyes on Lady Winsleigh, who instinctively shrank from the solemn +speechless despair of that penetrating gaze. + +"Who gave you this letter, Clara?" she asked calmly. + +"I told you before,--Miss Vere herself." + +"Why did she give it to you?" continued Thelma in a dull, sad voice. + +Lady Winsleigh hesitated and stammered a little. "Well, because-- +because I asked her if the stories about Sir Philip were true. And +she begged me to ask him not to visit her so often." Then, with an +additional thought of malice, she said softly. "She doesn't wish to +wrong you, Thelma,--of course, she's not a very good woman, but I +think she feels sorry for you!" + +The girl uttered a smothered cry of anguish, as though she had been +stabbed to the heart. She!--to be actually PITIED by Violet Vere, +because she had been unable to keep her husband's love! This idea +tortured her very soul,--but she was silent. + +"I thought you were my friend, Clara?" she said suddenly, with a +strange wistfulness. + +"So I am, Thelma," murmured Lady Winsleigh, a guilty flush coloring +her cheeks. + +"You have made me very miserable," went on Thelma gravely, and with +pathetic simplicity, "and I am sorry indeed that we ever met. I was +so happy till I knew you!--and yet I was very fond of you! I am sure +you mean everything for the best, but I cannot think it is so. And +it is all so dark and desolate now--why have you taken such pains to +make me sad? Why have you so often tried to make me doubt my +husband's love?--why have you come to-day so quickly to tell me I +have lost it? But for you, I might never have known this sorrow,--I +might have died soon, in happy ignorance, believing in my darling's +truth as I believe in God!" + +Her voice broke, and a hard sob choked her utterance. For once Lady +Winsleigh's conscience smote her--for once she felt ashamed, and +dared not offer consolation to the innocent soul she had so wantonly +stricken. For a minute or two there was silence--broken only by the +monotonous ticking of the clock and the crackling of the fire. + +Presently Thelma spoke again. "I will ask you to go away now and +leave me, Clara," she said simply. "When the heart is sorrowful, it +is best to be alone. Good-bye!" And she gently held out her hand. + +"Poor Thelma!" said Lady Winsleigh, taking it with an affectation of +tenderness. "What will you do?" + +Thelma did not answer; she sat mute and rigid. + +"You are thinking unkindly of me just now," continued Clara softly; +"but I felt it was my duty to tell you the worst at once. It's no +good living in a delusion! I'm very, very sorry for you, Thelma!" + +Thelma remained perfectly silent. Lady Winsleigh moved towards the +door, and as she opened it looked back at her. The girl might have +been a lifeless figure for any movement that could be perceived +about her. Her face was white as marble--her eyes were fixed on the +sparkling fire--her very hands looked stiff and pallid as wax, as +they lay clasped in her lap--the letter--the cruel letter,--had +fallen at her feet. She seemed as one in a trance of misery--and so +Lady Winsleigh left her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + + "O my lord, O Love, + I have laid my life at thy feet; + Have thy will thereof + For what shall please thee is sweet!" + + SWINBURNE. + + +She roused herself at last. Unclasping her hands, she pushed back +her hair from her brows and sighed heavily. Shivering as with +intense cold, she rose from the chair she had so long occupied, and +stood upright, mechanically gathering around her the long fur mantle +that she had not as yet taken off. Catching sight of the letter +where it lay, a gleaming speck of white on the rich dark hues of the +carpet, she picked it up and read it through again calmly and +comprehensively,--then folded it up carefully as though it were +something of inestimable value. Her thoughts were a little +confused,--she could only realize clearly two distinct things,-- +first, that Philip was unhappy,--secondly, that she was in the way +of his happiness. She did not pause to consider how this change in +him had been effected,--moreover, she never imagined that the letter +he had written could refer to any one but himself. Hers was a nature +that accepted facts as they appeared--she never sought for ulterior +motives or disguised meanings. True, she could not understand her +husband's admiration for Violet Vere, "But then"--she thought--"many +other men admire her too. And so it is certain there must be +something about her that wins love,--something I cannot see!" + +And presently she put aside all other considerations, and only +pondered on one thing,--how should she remove herself from the path +of her husband's pleasure? For she had no doubt but that she was an +obstacle to his enjoyment. He had made promises to Violet Vere which +he was "ready to fulfill,"--he offered her "an honorable position,"- +-he desired her "not to condemn him to death,"--he besought her to +let his words "carry more weight with her." + +"It is because I am here," thought Thelma wearily. "She would listen +to him if I were gone!" She had the strangest notions of wifely +duty--odd minglings of the stern Norse customs with the gentler +teachings of Christianity,--yet in both cases the lines of woman's +life were clearly defined in one word--obedience. Most women, +receiving an apparent proof of a husband's infidelity, would have +made what is termed a "scene,"--would have confronted him with rage +and tears, and personal abuse,--but Thelma was too gentle for this,- +-too gentle to resist what seemed to be Philip's wish and will, and +far too proud to stay where it appeared evident she was not wanted. +Moreover she could not bear the idea of speaking to him on, such a +subject as his connection with Violet Vere,--the hot color flushed +her cheeks with a sort of shame as she thought of it. + +Of course, she was weak--of course, she was foolish,--we will grant +that she was anything the reader chooses to call her. It is much +better for a woman nowadays to be defiant rather than yielding,-- +aggressive, not submissive,--violent, not meek. We all know that! To +abuse a husband well all round, is the modern method of managing +him! But poor, foolish, loving, sensitive Thelma had nothing of the +magnificent strength of mind possessed by most wives of to-day,--she +could only realize that Philip--her Philip--was "utterly weary and +broken-hearted"--for the sake of another woman--and that other woman +actually pitied HER! She pitied herself too, a little vaguely--her +brows ached and throbbed violently--there was a choking sensation in +her throat, but she could not weep. Tears would have relieved her +tired brain, but no tears fell. She strove to decide on some +immediate plan of action,--Philip would be home to-morrow,--she +recoiled at the thought of meeting him, knowing what she knew. +Glancing dreamily at her own figure, reflected by the lamplight in +the long mirror opposite, she recognized that she was fully attired +in outdoor costume--all save her hat, which she had taken off after +her first greeting of Lady Winsleigh, and which was still on the +table at her side. She looked at the clock,--it was five minutes to +seven. Eight o'clock was her dinner-hour, and thinking of this, she +suddenly rang the bell. Morris immediately answered it. + +"I shall not dine at home," she said in her usual gentle voice; "I +am going to see some friend this evening. I may not be back till-- +till late." + +"Very well, my lady," and Morris retired without seeing anything +remarkable in his mistress's announcement. Thelma drew a long breath +of relief as he disappeared, and, steadying her nerves by a strong +effort, passed into her own boudoir,--the little sanctum specially +endeared to her by Philip's frequent presence there. How cosy and +comfortable a home-nest it looked!--a small fire glowed warmly in +the grate, and Britta, whose duty it was to keep this particular +room in order, had lit the lamp,--a rosy globe supported by a +laughing cupid,--and had drawn the velvet curtains close at the +window to keep out the fog and chilly air--there were fragrant +flowers on the table,--Thelma's own favorite lounge was drawn up to +the fender in readiness for her,--opposite to it stood the deep, +old-fashioned easy chair in which Philip always sat. She looked +round upon all these familiar things with a dreary sense of +strangeness and desolation, and the curves of her sweet mouth +trembled a little and drooped piteously. But her resolve was taken, +and she did not hesitate or weep. She sat down to her desk and wrote +a few brief lines to her father--this letter she addressed and +stamped ready for posting. + +Then for a while she remained apparently lost in painful musings, +playing with the pen she held, and uncertain what to do. Presently +she drew a sheet of note-paper toward her, and began, "My darling +boy." As these words appeared under her hand on the white page, her +forced calm nearly gave way,--a low cry of intense agony escaped +from her lips, and, dropping the pen, she rose and paced the room +restlessly, one hand pressed against her heart as though that action +could still its rapid beatings. Once more she essayed the hard task +she had set herself to fulfill--the task of bidding farewell to the +husband in whom her life was centred. Piteous, passionate words came +quickly from her over-charged and almost breaking heart--words, +tender, touching,--full of love, and absolutely free from all +reproach. Little did she guess as she wrote that parting letter, +what desperate misery it would cause to the receiver!-- + +When she had finished it, she felt quieted--even more composed than +before. She folded and sealed it--then put it out of sight and rang +for Britta. That little maiden soon appeared, and seemed surprised +to see her mistress still in walking costume. + +"Have you only just come in, Froken?" she ventured to inquire. + +"No, I came home some time ago," returned Thelma gently. "But I was +talking to Lady Winsleigh in the drawing-room,--and as I am going +out again this evening I shall not require to change my dress. I +want you to post this letter for me, Britta." + +And she held out the one addressed to her father, Olaf Guldmar. +Britta took it, but her mind still revolved the question of her +mistress's attire. + +"If you are going to spend the evening with friends," she suggested, +"would it not be better to change?" + +"I have on a velvet gown," said Thelma, with a rather wearied +patience. "It is quite dressy enough for where I am going." She +paused abruptly, and Britta looked at her inquiringly. + +"Are you tired, Froken Thelma?" she asked. "You are so pale!" + +"I have a slight headache," Thelma answered. "It is nothing,--it +will soon pass. I wish you to post that letter at once, Britta." + +"Very well, Froken." Britta still hesitated. "Will you be out all +the evening?" was her next query. + +"Yes." + +"Then perhaps you will not mind if I go and see Louise, and take +supper with her? She has asked me, and Mr. Briggs"--here Britta +laughed--"is coming to see if I can go. He will escort me, he says!" +And she laughed again. + +Thelma forced herself to smile. "You can go, by all means, Britta! +But I thought you did not like Lady Winsleigh's French maid?" + +"I don't like her much," Britta admitted--"still, she means to be +kind and agreeable, I think. And"--here she eyed Thelma with a +mysterious and important air--"I want to ask her a question about +something very particular." + +"Then, go and stay as long as you like, dear," said Thelma, a sudden +impulse of affection causing her to caress softly her little maid's +ruffled brown curls, "I shall not be back till--till quite late. And +when you return from the post, I shall be gone--so--good-bye!" + +"Good-bye!" exclaimed Britta wonderingly. "Why, where are you going? +One would think you were starting on a long journey. You speak so +strangely, Froken!" + +"Do I?" and Thelma smiled kindly. "It is because my head aches, I +suppose. But it is not strange to say good-bye, Britta!" + +Britta caught her hand. "Where are you going?" she persisted. + +"To see some friends," responded Thelma quietly. "Now do not ask any +more questions, Britta, but go and post my letter. I want father to +get it as soon as possible, and you will lose the post if you are +not very quick." + +Thus reminded, Britta hastened off, determining to run all the way, +in order to get back before her mistress left the house. Thelma, +however, was too quick for her. As soon as Britta had gone, she took +the letter she had written to Philip, and slipped it within the +pages of a small volume of poems he had lately been reading. It was +a new book entitled "Gladys the Singer," and its leading metif was +the old, never-exhausted subject of a woman's too faithful love, +betrayal, and despair. As she opened it, her eyes fell by chance on +a few lines of hopeless yet musical melancholy, which, like a sad +song heard suddenly, made her throat swell with rising yet +restrained tears. They ran thus:-- + + "Oh! I can drown, or, like a broken lyre, + Be thrown to earth, or cast upon a fire,-- + I can be made to feel the pangs of death, + And yet be constant to the quest of breath,-- + Our poor pale trick of living through the lies + We name Existence when that 'something' dies + Which we call Honor. Many and many a way + Can I be struck or fretted night or day + In some new fashion,--or condemn'd the while + To take for food the semblance of a smile,-- + The left-off rapture of a slain caress,--" + +Ah!--she caught her breath sobbingly, "The left-off rapture of a +slain caress!" Yes,--that would be her portion now if--if she stayed +to receive it. But she would not stay! She turned over the volume +abstractedly, scarcely conscious of the action,--and suddenly, as if +the poet-writer of it had been present to probe her soul and make +her inmost thoughts public, she read:-- + + "Because I am unlov'd of thee to-day, + And undesired as sea-weeds in the sea!" + +Yes!--that was the "because" of everything that swayed her sorrowful +spirit,--"because" she was "unlov'd and undesired." + +She hesitated no longer, but shut the book with her farewell letter +inside it, and put it back in its former place on the little table +beside Philip's arm-chair. Then she considered how she should +distinguish it by some mark that should attract her husband's +attention toward it,--and loosening from her neck a thin gold chain +on which was suspended a small diamond cross with the names "Philip" +and "Thelma" engraved at the back, she twisted it round the little +book, and left it so that the sparkle of the jewels should be seen +distinctly on the cover. Now was there anything more to be done? She +divested herself of all her valuable ornaments, keeping only her +wedding-ring and its companion circlet of brilliants,--she emptied +her purse of all money save that which was absolutely necessary for +her journey--then she put on her hat, and began to fasten her long +cloak slowly, for her fingers were icy cold and trembled very +strangely. Stay,--there was her husband's portrait,--she might take +that, she thought, with a sort of touching timidity. It was a +miniature on ivory--and had been painted expressly for her,--she +placed it inside her dress, against her bosom. + +"He has been too good to me," she murmured; "and I have been too +happy,--happier than I deserved to be. Excess of happiness must +always end in sorrow." + +She looked dreamily at Philip's empty chair--in fancy she could see +his familiar figure seated there, and she sighed as she thought of +the face she loved so well,--the passion of his eyes,--the +tenderness of his smile. Softly she kissed the place where his head +had rested,--then turned resolutely away. + +She was giving up everything, she thought, to another woman,--but +then--that other woman, however incredible it seemed, was the one +Philip loved best,--his own written words were a proof of this. +There was no choice therefore,--his pleasure was her first +consideration,--everything must yield to that, so she imagined,--her +own life was nothing, in her estimation, compared to his desire. +Such devotion as hers was of course absurd--it amounted to weak +self-immolation, and would certainly be accounted as supremely +foolish by most women who have husbands, and who, when they swear to +"obey," mean to break the vow at every convenient opportunity--but +Thelma could not alter her strange nature, and, with her, obedience +meant the extreme letter of the law of utter submission. Leaving the +room she had so lately called her own, she passed into the entrance- +hall. Morris was not there, and she did not summon him,--she opened +the street-door for herself, and shutting it quietly behind her, she +stood alone in the cold street, where the fog had now grown so dense +that the lamp-posts were scarcely visible. She walked on for a few +paces rather bewildered and chilled by the piercing bitterness of +the air,--then, rallying her forces, she hailed a passing cab, and +told the man to take her to Charing Cross Station. She was not +familiar with London--and Charing Cross was the only great railway +terminus she could just then think of. + +Arrived there, the glare of the electric light, the jostling +passengers rushing to and from the trains, the shouts and wrangling +of porters and cabmen, confused her not a little,--and the bold +looks of admiration bestowed on her freely by the male loungers +sauntering near the doors of the restaurant and hotel, made her +shrink and tremble for shame. She had never travelled entirely alone +before--and she began to be frightened at the pandemonium of sights +and noises that surged around her. Yet she never once thought of +returning,--she never dreamed of going to any of her London friends, +lest on hearing of her trouble they might reproach Philip--and this +Thelma would not have endured. For the same reason, she had said +nothing to Britta. + +In her then condition, it seemed to her that only one course lay +open for her to follow,--and that was to go quietly home,--home to +the Altenfjord. No one would be to blame for her departure but +herself, she thought,--and Philip would be free. Thus she reasoned,- +-if, indeed, she reasoned at all. But there was such a frozen +stillness in her soul--her senses were so numbed with pain, that as +yet she scarcely realized either what had happened or what she +herself was doing. She was as one walking in sleep--the awakening, +bitter as death, was still to come. + +Presently a great rush of people began to stream towards her from +one of the platforms, and trucks of luggage, heralded by shouts of, +"Out of the way, there!" and "By'r leave!" came trundling rapidly +along--the tidal train from the Continent had just arrived. + +Dismayed at the increasing confusion and uproar, Thelma addressed +herself to an official with a gold band round his hat. + +"Can you tell me," she asked timidly, "where I shall take a ticket +for Hull?" + +The man glanced at the fair, anxious face, and smiled good- +humoredly. + +"You've come to the wrong station, miss," he said. "You want the +Midland line." + +"The Midland?" Thelma felt more bewildered than ever. + +"Yes,--the MIDLAND," he repeated rather testily. "It's a good way +from here--you'd better take a cab." + +She moved away,--but started and drew herself back into a shadowed +corner, coloring deeply as the sound of a rich, mellifluous voice, +which she instantly recognized, smote suddenly on her ears. + +"And as I before remarked, my good fellow," the voice was saying, "I +am not a disciple of the semi-obscure. If a man has a thought which +is worth declaring, let him. declare it with a free and noble +utterance--don't let him wrap it up in multifarious parcels of +dreary verbosity! There's too much of that kind of thing going on +nowadays--in England, at least. There's a kind of imitation of art +which isn't art at all,--a morbid, bilious, bad imitation. You only +get close to the real goddess in Italy. I wish I could persuade you +to come and pass the winter with me there?" + +It was Beau Lovelace who spoke, and he was talking to George +Lorimer. The two had met in Paris,--Lovelace was on his way to +London, where a matter of business summoned him for a few days, and +Lorimer, somewhat tired of the French capital, decided to return +with him. And here they were,--just arrived at Charing Cross,--and +they walked across the station arm in arm, little imagining who +watched them from behind the shelter of one of the waiting-room +doors, with a yearning sorrow in her grave blue eyes. They stopped +almost opposite to her to light their cigars,--she saw Lorimer's +face quite distinctly, and heard his answer to Lovelace. + +"Well, I'll see what I can do about it, Beau! You know my mother +always likes to get away from London in winter--but whether we ought +to inflict ourselves upon you,--you being a literary man too--" + +"Nonsense, you won't interfere in the least with the flow of inky +inspiration," laughed Beau. "And as for your mother, I'm in love +with her, as you are aware! I admire her almost as much as I do Lady +Bruce-Errington--and that's saying a great deal! By-the-by, if Phil +can get through his share of this country's business, he might do +worse than bring his beautiful Thelma to the Lake of Como for a +while. I'll ask him!" + +And having lit their Havannas successfully, they walked on and soon +disappeared. For one instant Thelma felt strongly inclined to run +after them, like a little forlorn child that had lost its way,--and, +unburdening herself of all her miseries to the sympathetic George, +entreat, with tears, to be taken back to that husband who did not +want her any more. But she soon overcame this emotion,--and calling +to mind the instructions of the official personage whose advice she +had sought, she hurried out of the huge, brilliantly lit station, +and taking a hansom, was driven, as she requested, to the Midland. +Here the rather gloomy aspect of the place oppressed her as much as +the garish bustle of Charing Cross had bewildered her,--but she was +somewhat relieved when she learned that a train for Hull would start +in ten minutes. Hurrying to the ticket-office she found there before +her a kindly faced woman with a baby in her arms, who was just +taking a third-class ticket to Hull, and as she felt lonely and +timid, Thelma at once decided to travel third-class also, and if +possible in the same compartment with this cheerful matron, who, as +soon as she had secured her ticket, walked away to the train, +hushing her infant in her arms as she went. Thelma followed her at a +little distance--and as soon as she saw her enter a third-class +carriage, she hastened her steps and entered also, quite thankful to +have secured some companionship for the long cold journey. The woman +glanced at her a little curiously--it was strange to see so lovely +and young a creature travelling all alone at night,--and she asked +kindly-- + +"Be you goin' fur, miss?" + +Thelma smiled--it was pleasant to be spoken to, she thought. + +"Yes," she answered. "All the way to Hull." + +"Tis a cold night for a journey," continued her companion. + +"Yes, indeed," answered Thelma. "It must be cold for your little +baby." + +And unconsciously her voice softened and her eyes grew sad as she +looked across at the sleeping infant. + +"Oh, he's as warm as toast!" laughed the mother cheerily. "He gets +the best of everything, he do. It's yourself that's looking cold, my +dear in spite of your warm cloak. Will ye have this shawl?" + +And she offered Thelma a homely gray woollen wrap with much kindly +earnestness of manner. + +"I am quite warm, thank you," said Thelma gently, accepting the +shawl, however, to please her fellow-traveller. "It is a headache I +have which makes me look pale. And, I am very, very tired!" + +Her voice trembled a little,--she sighed and closed her eyes. She +felt strangely weak and giddy,--she seemed to be slipping away from +herself and from all the comprehension of life,--she wondered +vaguely who and what she was. Had her marriage with Philip been all +a dream?--perhaps she had never left the Altenfjord after all! +Perhaps she would wake up presently and see the old farm-house quite +unchanged, with the doves flying about the roof, and Sigurd +wandering under the pines as was his custom. Ah, dear Sigurd! Poor +Sigurd! he had loved her, she thought--nay, he loved her still,--he +could not be dead! Oh, yes,--she must have been dreaming,--she felt +certain she was lying on her own little white bed at home, asleep;-- +she would by-and-by open her eyes and get up and look through her +little latticed window, and see the sun sparkling on the water, and +the Eulalie at the anchor in the Fjord--and her father would ask Sir +Philip and his friends to spend the afternoon at the farm-house--and +Philip would come and stroll with her through the garden and down to +the shore, and would talk to her in that low, caressing voice of +his,--and though she loved him dearly, she must never, never let him +know of it, because she was not worthy!. . . She woke from these +musings with a violent start and a sick shiver running through all +her frame,--and looking wildly about her, saw that she was reclining +on some one's shoulder,--some one was dabbing a wet handkerchief on +her forehead--her hat was off and her cloak was loosened. + +"There, my dear, you're better now!" said a kindly voice in her ear. +"Lor! I thought you was dead--that I did! 'Twas a bad faint indeed. +And with the train jolting along like this too! It was lucky I had a +flask of cold water with me. Raise your head a little--that's it! +Poor thing,--you're as white as a sheet! You're not fit to travel, +my dear--you're not indeed." + +Thelma raised herself slowly, and with a sudden impulse kissed the +good woman's honest, rosy face, to her intense astonishment and +pleasure. + +"You are very kind to me!" she said tremulously. "I am so sorry to +have troubled you. I do feel ill--but it will soon pass." + +And she smoothed her ruffled hair, and sitting up erect, endeavored +to smile. Her companion eyed her pale face compassionately, and +taking up her sleeping baby from the shawl on which she had laid it +while ministering to Thelma's needs, began to rock it slowly to and +fro. Thelma, meanwhile, became sensible of the rapid movement of the +train. + +"We have left London?" she asked with an air of surprise. + +"Nearly half an hour ago, my dear." Then, after a pause, during +which she had watched Thelma very closely, she said-- + +"I think you're married, aren't you, dearie?" + +"Yes." Thelma answered, a slight tinge of color warming her fair +pale cheeks. + +"Your husband, maybe, will meet you at Hull?" + +"No,--he is in London," said Thelma simply. "I am going to see my +father." + +This answer satisfied her humble friend, who, noticing her extreme +fatigue and the effort it cost her to speak, forbore to ask any more +questions, but good-naturedly recommended her to try and sleep. She +slept soundly herself for the greater part of the journey; but +Thelma was now feverishly wide awake, and her eyeballs ached and +burned as though there were fire behind them. + +Gradually her nerves began to be wound up to an extreme tension of +excitement--she forgot all her troubles in listening with painful +intentness to the rush and roar of the train through the darkness. +The lights of passing stations and signal-posts gleamed like +scattered and flying stars--there was the frequent shriek of the +engine-whistle,--the serpent-hiss of escaping steam. She peered +through the window--all was blackness; there seemed to be no earth, +no sky,--only a sable chaos, through which the train flew like a +flame-mouthed demon. Always that rush and roar! She began to feel as +if she could stand it no longer. She must escape from that +continuous, confusing sound--it maddened her brain. Nothing was +easier; she would open the carriage-door and get out! Surely she +could manage to jump off the step, even though the train was in +motion! + +Danger! She smiled at that idea,--there was no danger; and, if there +was, it did not much matter. Nothing mattered now,--now that she had +lost her husband's love. She glanced at the woman opposite, who +slept profoundly--the baby had slipped a little from its mother's +arms, and lay with its tiny face turned towards Thelma. It was a +pretty creature, with soft cheeks and a sweet little mouth,--she +looked at it with a vague, wild smile. Again, again that rush and +roar surged like a storm in her ears and distracted her mind! She +rose suddenly and seized the handle of the carriage door. Another +instant, and she would have sprang to certain death,--when suddenly +the sleeping baby woke, and, opening its mild blue eyes, gazed at +her. + +She met its glance as one fascinated,--almost unconsciously her +fingers dropped from the door-handle,--the little baby still looked +at her in dreamlike, meditative fashion,--its mother slept +profoundly. She bent lower and lower over the child. With a beating +heart she ventured to touch the small, pink hand that lay outside +its wrappings like a softly curved rose-leaf. With a sort of elf- +like confidence and contentment the feeble, wee fingers closed and +curled round hers,--and held her fast! Weak as a silken thread, yet +stronger in its persuasive force than a grasp of iron, that soft, +light pressure controlled and restrained her,. . . very gradually +the mists of her mind cleared,--the rattling, thunderous dash of the +train grew less dreadful, less monotonous, less painful to her sense +of hearing,--her bosom heaved convulsively, and all suddenly her +eyes filled with tears--merciful tears, which at first welled up +slowly, and were hot as fire, but which soon began to fall faster +and faster in large, bright drops down her pale cheeks. Seeing that +its mother still slept, she took the baby gently into her own fair +arms,--and rocked it to and fro with many a sobbing murmur of +tenderness;--the little thing smiled drowsily and soon fell asleep +again, all unconscious that its timely look and innocent touch had +saved poor Thelma's life and reason. + +She, meanwhile, wept on softly, till her tired brain and heart were +somewhat relieved of their heavy burden,--the entanglement of her +thoughts became unravelled,--and, though keenly aware of the blank +desolation of her life, she was able to raise herself in spirit to +the Giver of all Love and Consolation, and to pray humbly for that +patience and resignation which now alone could serve her needs. And +she communed with herself and God in silence, as the train rushed on +northwards. Her fellow-traveller woke up as they were nearing their +destination, and, seeing her holding the baby, was profuse in her +thanks for this kindness. And when they at last reached Hull, about +half an hour after midnight, the good woman was exceedingly anxious +to know if she could be of any service,--but Thelma gently, yet +firmly, refused all her offers of assistance. + +They parted in the most friendly manner,--Thelma kissing the child, +through whose unconscious means, as she now owned to herself, she +had escaped a terrible death,--and then she went directly to a quiet +hotel she knew of, which was kept by a native of Christiania, a man +who had formerly been acquainted with her father. At first, when +this worthy individual saw a lady arrive, alone, young, richly +dressed, and without luggage, he was inclined to be suspicious,--but +as soon as she addressed him in Norwegian, and told him who she was, +he greeted her with the utmost deference and humility. + +"The daughter of Jarl Guldmar," he said, continuing to speak in his +own tongue, "honors my house by entering it!" + +Thelma smiled a little. "The days of the great Jarls are past, +Friedhof," she replied somewhat sadly, "and my father is content to +be what he is,--a simple bonde." + +Friedhof shook his head quite obstinately. "A Jarl is always a +Jarl," he declared. "Nothing can alter a man's birth and nature. And +the last time I saw Valdemar Svensen,--he who lives with your father +now,--he was careful always to speak of the Jarl, and seldom or +never did he mention him in any other fashion. And now, noble +Froken, in what manner can I serve you?" + +Thelma told him briefly that she was going to see her father on +business, and that she was desirous of starting for Norway the next +day as early as possible. + +Friedhof held up his hands in amazement. "Ah! most surely you +forget," he exclaimed, using the picturesque expressions of his +native speech, "that this is the sleeping time of the sun! Even at +the Hardanger Fjord it is dark and silent,--the falling streams +freeze with cold on their way; and if it is so at the Hardanger, +what will it be at the Alten? And there is no passenger ship going +to Christiania or Bergen for a fortnight!" + +Thelma clasped her hands in dismay. "But I MUST go!" she cried +impatiently; "I must, indeed, good Friedhof! I cannot stay here! +Surely, surely there is some vessel that would take me,--some +fishing boat,--what does it matter how I travel, so long as I get +away?" + +The landlord looked at her rather wonderingly. "Nay, if it is indeed +so urgent, noble Froken," he replied, "do not trouble, for there is +a means of making the journey. But for YOU, and in such bitter +weather, it seems a cruelty to speak of it. A steam cargo-boat +leaves here for Hammerfest and the North Cape to-morrow--it will +pass the Altenfjord. No doubt you could go with that, if you so +choose,--but there will be no warmth or comfort, and there are heavy +storms on the North Sea. I know the captain; and 'tis true he takes +his wife with him, so there would be a woman on board,--yet--" + +Thelma interrupted him. She pressed two sovereigns into his hand. + +"Say no more, Friedhof," she said eagerly. "You will take me to see +this captain--you will tell him I must go with him. My father will +thank you for this kindness to me, even better than I can." + +"It does not seem to me a kindness at all," returned Friedhof with +frank bluntness. "I would be loth to sail the seas myself in such +weather. And I thought you were so grandly married, Froken Guldmar,- +-though I forget your wedded name,--how comes it that your husband +is not with you?" + +"He is very busy in London," answered Thelma. "He knows where I am +going. Do not be at all anxious, Friedhof,--I shall make the journey +very well and I am not afraid of storm or wild seas." + +Friedhof still looked dubious, but finally yielded to her entreaties +and agreed to arrange her passage for her in the morning. + +She stayed at his hotel that night, and with the very early dawn +accompanied him on board the ship he had mentioned. It was a small, +awkwardly built craft, with an ugly crooked black funnel out of +which the steam was hissing and spitting with quite an unnecessary +degree of violence--the decks were wet and dirty, and the whole +vessel was pervaded with a sickening smell of whale-oil. The +captain, a gruff red-faced fellow, looked rather surlily at his +unexpected passenger--but was soon mollified by her gentle manner, +and the readiness with which she paid the money he demanded for +taking her. + +"You won't be very warm," he said, eyeing her from head to foot-- +"but I can lend you a rug to sleep in." + +Thelma smiled and thanked him. He called to his wife, a thin, +overworked-looking creature, who put up her head from a window in +the cabin, at his summons. + +"Here's a lady going with us," he announced. "Look after her, will +you?" The woman nodded. Then, once more addressing himself to +Thelma, he said, "We shall have nasty weather and a wicked sea!" + +"I do not mind!" she answered quietly, and turning to Friedhof who +had come to see her off, she shook hands with him warmly and thanked +him for the trouble he had taken in her behalf. The good landlord +bade her farewell somewhat reluctantly,--he had a presentiment that +there was something wrong with the beautiful, golden-haired daughter +of the Jarl--and that perhaps he ought to have prevented her making +this uncomfortable and possibly perilous voyage. But it was too late +now,--and at a little before seven o'clock, the vessel,--which +rejoiced in the name of the Black Polly,--left the harbor, and +steamed fussily down the Humber in the teeth of a sudden storm of +sleet and snow. + +Her departure had no interest for any one save Friedhof, who stood +watching her till she was no more than a speck on the turbid water. +He kept his post, regardless of the piercing cold of the gusty, +early morning air, till she had entirely disappeared, and then +returned to his own house and his daily business in a rather +depressed frame of mind. He was haunted by the pale face and serious +eyes of Thelma--she looked very ill, he thought. He began to +reproach himself,--why had he been such a fool as to let her go?-- +why had he not detained her?--or at any rate, persuaded her to rest +a few days in Hull? He looked at the threatening sky and the falling +flakes of snow with a shiver. + +"What weather!" he muttered, "and there must be a darkness as of +death at the Altenfjord!" + +Meanwhile the Black Polly--unhandsome as she was in appearance, +struggled gallantly with and overcame an army of furious waves that +rose to greet her as she rounded Spurn Head, and long ere Thelma +closed her weary eyes in an effort to sleep, was plunging, +shivering, and fighting her slow way through shattering mountainous +billows and a tempest of sleet, snow, and tossing foam across the +wild North Sea. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + + "What of her glass without her? The blank grey + There, where the pool is blind of the moon's face-- + Her dress without her? The tossed empty space + Of cloud-rack whence the moon has passed away!" + + DANTE G. ROSSETTI. + + +"Good God!" cried Errington impatiently "What's the matter? Speak +out!" + +He had just arrived home. He had barely set foot within his own +door, and full of lover-like ardor and eagerness was about to hasten +to his wife's room,--when his old servant Morris stood in his way +trembling and pale-faced,--looking helplessly from him to Neville,-- +who was as much astonished as Sir Philip, at the man's woe-begone +appearance. + +"Something has happened," he stammered faintly at last. "Her +ladyship--" + +Philip started--his heart beat quickly and then seemed to grow still +with a horrible sensation of fear. + +"What of her?" he demanded in low hoarse tones. "Is she ill?" + +Morris threw up his hands with a gesture of despair. + +"Sir Philip, my dear master!" cried the poor old man. "I do not know +whether she is ill or well--I cannot guess! My lady went out last +night at a little before eight o'clock,--and--and she has never come +home at all! We cannot tell what has become of her! She has gone!" + +And tears of distress and anxiety filled his eyes. Philip stood +mute. He could not understand it. All color fled from his face--he +seemed as though he had received a sudden blow on the head which had +stunned him. + +"Gone!" he said mechanically. "Thelma--my wife gone! Why should she +go?" + +And he stared fixedly at Neville, who laid one hand soothingly on +his arm. + +"Perhaps she is with friends," he suggested. "She may be at Lady +Winsleigh's or Mrs. Lorimer's." + +"No, no!" interrupted Morris. "Britta, who stayed up all night for +her, has since been to every house that my lady visits and no one +has seen or heard of her!" + +"Where is Britta?" demanded Philip suddenly. + +"She has gone again to Lady Winsleigh's," answered Morris, "she says +it is there that mischief has been done,--I don't know what she +means!" + +Philip shook off his secretary's sympathetic touch, and strode +through the rooms to Thelma's boudoir. He put aside the velvet +curtains of the portiere with a noiseless hand--somehow he felt as +if, in spite of all he had just heard, she MUST be there as usual to +welcome him with that serene sweet smile which was the sunshine of +his life. The empty desolate air of the room smote him with a sense +of bitter pain,--only the plaintive warble of her pet thrush, who +was singing to himself most mournfully in his gilded cage, broke the +heavy silence. He looked about him vacantly. All sorts of dark +forebodings crowded on his mind,--she must have met with some +accident, he thought with a shudder,--for that she would depart from +him in this sudden way of her own accord for no reason whatsoever +seemed to him incredible--impossible. + +"What have I done that she should leave me?" he asked half aloud and +wonderingly. Everything that had seemed to him of worth a few hours +ago became valueless in this moment of time. What cared he now for +the business of Parliament--for distinction or honors among men? +Nothing--less than nothing! Without her, the world was empty--its +ambitions, its pride, its good, its evil, seemed but the dreariest +and most foolish trifles! + +"Not even a message?" he thought. "No hint of where she meant to go- +-no word of explanation for me? Surely I must be dreaming--my Thelma +would never have deserted me!" + +A sort of sob rose in his throat, and he pressed his hand strongly +over his eyes to keep down the womanish drops that threatened to +overflow them. After a minute or two, he went to her desk and opened +it, thinking that there perhaps she might have left a note of +farewell. There was nothing--nothing save a little heap of money and +jewels. These Thelma had herself placed, before her sorrowful, +silent departure, in the corner where he now found them. + +More puzzled than ever, he glanced searchingly round the room--and +his eyes were at once attracted by the sparkle of the diamond cross +that lay uppermost on the cover of "Gladys the Singer," the book of +poems which was in its usual place on his own reading table. In +another second he seized it--he unwound the slight gold chain--he +opened the little volume tremblingly. Yes!--there was a letter +within its pages addressed to himself,--now, now he should know all! +He tore it open with feverish haste--two folded sheets of paper fell +out,--one was his own epistle to Violet Vere, and this, to his +consternation, he perceived first. Full of a sudden misgiving he +laid it aside, and began to read Thelma's parting words. + +"My darling boy," she wrote-- + +"A friend of yours and mine brought me the enclosed letter and +though, perhaps, it was wrong of me to read it, I hope you will +forgive me for having done so. I do not quite understand it, and I +cannot bear to think about it--but it seems that you are tired of +your poor Thelma! I do not blame you, dearest, for I am sure that in +some way or other the fault is mine, and it does grieve me so much +to think you are unhappy! I know that I am very ignorant of many +things, and that I am not suited to this London life--and I fear I +shall never understand its ways. But one thing I can do, and that is +to let you be free, my Philip--quite free! And so I am going back to +the Altenfjord, where I will stay till you want me again, if you +ever do. My heart is yours and I shall always love you till I die,-- +and though it seems to me just now better that we should part, to +give you greater ease and pleasure, still you must always remember +that I have no reproaches to make to you. I am only sorry to think +my love has wearied you,--for you have been all goodness and +tenderness to me. And so that people shall not talk about me or you, +you will simply say to them that I have gone to see my father, and +they will think nothing strange in that. Be kind to Britta,--I have +told her nothing, as it would only make her miserable. Do not be +angry that I go away--I cannot bear to stay here, knowing all. And +so, good-bye, my love, my dearest one!--if you were to love many +women more than me, I still should love you best--I still would +gladly die to serve you. Remember this always,--that, however long +we may be parted, and though all the world should come between us, I +am, and ever shall be your faithful wife," + +"THELMA." + +The ejaculation that broke from Errington's lips as he finished +reading this letter was more powerful than reverent. Stinging tears +darted to his eyes--he pressed his lips passionately on the fair +writing. + +"My darling--my darling!" he murmured. "What a miserable +misunderstanding!" + +Then without another moment's delay he rushed into Neville's study +and cried abruptly-- + +"Look here! It's all your fault." + +"MY fault!" gasped the amazed secretary. + +"Yes--your fault!" shouted Errington almost beside himself with +grief and rage. "Your fault, and that of your accursed WIFE, Violet +Vere!" + +And he dashed the letter, the cause of all the mischief, furiously +down on the table. Neville shrank and shivered,--his grey head +drooped, he stretched out his hands appealingly. + +"For God's sake, Sir Philip, tell me what I've done?" he exclaimed +piteously. + +Errington strode up and down the room in a perfect fever of +impatience. + +"By Heaven, it's enough to drive me mad!" he burst forth. + +"Your wife!--your wife!--confound her! When you first discovered her +in that shameless actress, didn't I want to tell Thelma all about +it--that very night?--and didn't you beg me not to do so? Your silly +scruples stood in the way of everything! I was a fool to listen to +you--a fool to meddle in your affairs--and--and I wish to God I'd +never seen or heard of you!" + +Neville turned very white, but remained speechless. + +"Read that letter!" went on Philip impetuously. "You've seen it +before! It's the last one I wrote to your wife imploring her to see +you and speak with you. Here it comes, the devil knows how, into +Thelma's hands. She's quite in the dark about YOUR secret, and +fancies I wrote it on my own behalf! It looks like it too--looks +exactly as if I were pleading for myself and breaking my heart over +that detestible stage-fiend--by Jove! it's too horrible!" And he +gave a gesture of loathing and contempt. + +Neville heard him in utter bewilderment. "Not possible!" he +muttered. "Not possible--it can't be!" + +"Can't be? It IS!" shouted Philip. "And if you'd let me tell Thelma +everything from the first, all this wouldn't have happened. And you +ask me what you've done! DONE! You've parted me from the sweetest, +dearest girl in the world!" + +And throwing himself into a chair, he covered his face with his hand +and a great uncontrollable sob broke from his lips. + +Neville was in despair. Of course, it was his fault--he saw it all +clearly. He painfully recalled all that had happened since that +night at the Brilliant Theatre when with a sickening horror he had +discovered Violet Vere to be no other than Violet Neville,--his own +little violet!. . . as he had once called her--his wife that he had +lost and mourned as though she were some pure dead woman lying +sweetly at rest in a quiet grave. He remembered Thelma's shuddering +repugnance at the sight of her,--a repugnance which he himself had +shared--and which made him shrink with fastidious aversion, from the +idea of confiding to any one but Sir Philip, the miserable secret of +his connection with her. Sir Philip had humored him in this fancy, +little imagining that any mischief would come of it--and the reward +of his kindly sympathy was this,--his name was compromised, his home +desolate, and his wife enstranged from him! + +In the first pangs of the remorse and sorrow that filled his heart, +Neville could gladly have gone out and drowned himself. Presently he +began to think,--was there not some one else beside himself who +might possibly be to blame for all this misery? For instance, who +could have brought or sent that letter to Lady Errington? In her +high station, she, so lofty, so pure, so far above the rest of her +sex, would have been the last person to make any inquiries about +such a woman as Violet Vere. How had it all happened? He looked +imploringly for some minutes at the dejected figure in the chair +without daring to offer a word of consolation. Presently he ventured +a remark-- + +"Sir Philip!" he stammered. "It will soon be all right,--her +ladyship will come back immediately. I myself will explain--it's-- +it's only a misunderstanding.." + +Errington moved in his chair impatiently, but said nothing. Only a +misunderstanding! How many there are who can trace back broken +friendships and severed loves to that one thing--"only a +misunderstanding!" The tenderest relations are often the most +delicate and subtle, and "trifles light as air" may scatter and +utterly destroy the sensitive gossamer threads extending between one +heart and another, as easily as a child's passing foot destroys the +spider's web woven on the dewy grass in the early mornings of +spring. + +Presently Sir Philip started up--his lashes were wet and his face +was flushed. + +"It's no good sitting here," he said, rapidly buttoning on his +overcoat. "I must go after her. Let all the business go to the +devil! Write and say I won't stand for Middleborough--I resign in +favor of the Liberal candidate. I'm off to Norway to-night." + +"To Norway!" cried Neville. "Has she gone THERE? At this season--" + +He broke off, for at that moment Britta entered, looking the picture +of misery. Her face was pale and drawn--her eyelids red and swollen, +and when she saw Sir Philip, she gave him a glance of the most +despairing reproach and indignation. He sprang up to her. + +"Any news?" he demanded. + +Britta shook her head mournfully, the tears beginning to roll again +down her cheeks. + +"Oh, if I'd only thought!" she sobbed, "if I'd only known what the +dear Froken meant to do when she said good-bye to me last night, I +could have prevented her going--I could--I would have told her all I +know--and she would have stayed to see you! Oh, Sir Philip, if you +had only been here, that wicked, wicked Lady Winsleigh COULDN'T have +driven her away!" + +At this name such a fury filled Philip's heart that he could barely +control himself. He breathed quickly and heavily. + +"What of her?" he demanded in a low, suffocated voice. "What has +Lady Winsleigh to do with it, Britta?" + +"Everything!" cried Britta, though, as she glanced at his set, stern +face and paling lips, she began to feel a little frightened. "She +has always hated the Froken, and been jealous of her--always! Her +own maid, Louise, will tell you so--Lord Winsleigh's man, Briggs, +will tell you so! They've listened at the doors, and they know all +about it!" Britta made this statement with the most childlike +candor. "And they've heard all sorts of wicked things--Lady +Winsleigh was always talking to Sir Francis Lennox about the +Froken,--and now they've made her believe you do not care for her +any more--they've been trying to make her believe everything bad of +you for ever so many months--" she paused, terrified at Sir Philip's +increasing pallor. + +"Go on, Britta," he said quietly, though his voice sounded strange +to himself. Britta gathered up all her remaining stock of courage. + +"Oh dear, oh dear!" she continued desperately, "I DON'T understand +London people at all, and I never shall understand them. Everybody +seems to want to be wicked! Briggs says that Lady Winsleigh was fond +of YOU, Sir Philip,--then, that she was fond of Sir Francis Lennox,- +-and yet she has a husband of her own all the time! It is so very +strange!" And the little maiden's perplexity appeared to border on +distraction. "They would think such a woman quite mad in Norway! But +what is worse than anything is that you--you, Sir Philip,--oh! I +WON'T believe it," and she stamped her foot passionately, "I CAN'T +believe it!. . . and yet everybody says that you go to see a +dreadful, painted dancing woman at the theatre, and that you like +her better than the Froken,--it ISN'T true, is it?" Here she peered +anxiously at her master--but he was absolutely silent. Neville made +as though he would speak, but a gesture from Sir Philip's hand +restrained him. Britta went on rather dispiritedly, "Anyhow, Briggs +has just told me that only yesterday Lady Winsleigh went all by +herself to see this actress, and that she got some letter there +which she brought to the Froken--" she recoiled suddenly with a +little scream. "Oh, Sir Philip!--where are you going?" + +Errington's hand came down on her shoulder, as he twisted her +lightly out of his path and strode to the door. + +"Sir Philip--Sir Philip!" cried Neville anxiously, hastening after +him. "Think for a moment; don't do anything rash!" Philip wrung his +hand convulsively. "Rash! My good fellow, it's a WOMAN who has +slandered me--what CAN I do? Her sex protects her!" He gave a short, +furious laugh. "But--by God!--were she a man I'd shoot her dead!" + +And with these words, and his eyes blazing with wrath, he left the +room. Neville and Britta confronted each other in vague alarm. + +"Where will he go?" half whispered Britta. + +"To Winsleigh House, I suppose," answered Neville in the same low +tone. + +Just then the hall door shut with a loud bang, that echoed through +the silent house. + +"He's gone!" and as Neville said this he sighed and looked dubiously +at his companion. "How do you know all this about Lady Winsleigh, +Britta? It may not be true--it's only servants' gossip." + +"Only servants' gossip!" exclaimed Britta. "And is that nothing? +Why, in these grand houses like Lord Winsleigh's, the servants know +everything! Briggs makes it his business to listen at the doors--he +says it's a part of his duty. And Louise opens all her mistress's +letters--she says she owes it to her own respectability to know what +sort of a lady it is she serves. And she's going to leave. because +she says her ladyship ISN'T respectable! There! what do you think of +that! And Sir Philip will find out a great deal more than even _I_ +have told him--but oh! I CAN'T understand about that actress!" And +she shook her head despairingly. + +"Britta," said Neville suddenly, "That actress is my wife!" + +Britta started,--and her round eyes opened wide. + +"Your wife, Mr. Neville?" she exclaimed. + +Neville took off his spectacles and polished them nervously. + +"Yes, Britta--my wife!" + +She looked at him in amazed silence. Neville went on rubbing his +glasses, and continued in rather dreamy, tremulous accents-- + +"Yes--I lost her years ago--I thought she was dead. But I found her- +-on the stage of the Brilliant Theatre. I--I never expected--THAT! I +would rather she had died!" He paused and went on softly, "When I +married her, Britta, she was such a dear little girl,--so bright and +pretty!--and I--I fancied she was fond of me! Yes, I did,--of +course, I was foolish--I've always been foolish, I think. And when-- +when I saw her on that stage I felt as if some one had struck me a +hard blow--it seems as if I'd been stunned ever since. And though +she knows I'm in London, she won't see me, Britta,--she won't let me +speak to her even for a moment! It's very hard! Sir Philip has tried +his best to persuade her to see me--he has talked to her and written +to her about me; and that's not all,--he has even tried to make her +come back to me--but it's all no use--and--and that's how all the +mischief has arisen--do you see?" + +Britta gazed at him still, with sympathy written on every line of +her face,--but a great load had been lifted from her mind by his +words--she began to understand everything. + +"I'm so sorry for you, Mr. Neville!" she said. "But why didn't you +tell all this to the Froken?" + +"I COULDN'T!" murmured Neville desperately. "She was there that +night at the Brilliant,--and if you had seen how she looked when she +saw--my wife--appeared on the stage! So pained, so sorry, so +ashamed! and she wanted to leave the theatre at once. Of course, I +ought to have told her,--I wish I had--but--somehow, I never could." +He paused again. "It's all my stupidity, of course, Sir Philip is +quite blameless--he has been the kindest, the best of friends to me- +-" his voice trembled more and more, and he could not go on. There +was a silence of some minutes, during which Britta appeared absorbed +in meditation, and Neville furtively wiped his eyes. + +Presently he spoke again more cheerfully. "It'll soon be all right +again, Britta!" and he nodded encouragingly. "Sir Philip says her +ladyship has gone home to Norway, and he means to follow her to- +night." + +Britta nodded gravely, but heaved a deep sigh. + +"And I posted her letter to her father!" she half murmured. "Oh, if +I had only thought or guessed why it was written!" + +"Isn't it rather a bad time of the year for Norway?" pursued +Neville. "Why, there must be snow and darkness--" + +"Snow and darkness at the Altenfjord!" suddenly cried Britta, +catching at his words. "That's exactly what she said to me the other +evening! Oh dear! I never thought of it--I never remembered it was +the dark season!" She clasped her hands in dismay. "There is no sun +at the Altenfjord now--it is like night--and the cold is bitter. And +she is not strong--not strong enough to travel--and there's the +North Sea to cross--oh, Mr. Neville," and she broke out sobbing +afresh. "The journey will kill her,--I know it will! my poor, poor +darling! I must go after her--I'll go with Sir Philip--I WON'T be +left behind!" + +"Hush, hush, Britta!" said Neville kindly, patting her shoulder. +"Don't cry--don't cry!" + +But he was very near crying himself, poor man, so shaken was he by +the events of the morning. And he could not help admitting to +himself the possibility that so long and trying a journey for Thelma +in her present condition of health meant little else than serious +illness--perhaps death. The only comfort he could suggest to the +disconsolate Britta was, that at that time of year it was very +probable there would be no steamer running to Christiansund sand or +Bergen, and in that case Thelma would be unable to leave England, +and would, therefore, be overtaken by Sir Philip at Hull. + +Meanwhile, Sir Philip himself, in a white heat of restrained anger, +arrived at Winsleigh House, and asked to see Lord Winsleigh +immediately. Briggs, who opened the door to him, was a little +startled at his haggard face and blazing eyes, even though he knew, +through Britta, all about the sorrow that had befallen him. Briggs +was not surprised at Lady Errington's departure,--that portion of +his "duty" which consisted in listening at doors, had greatly +enlightened him on many points,--all, save one--the reported +connection between Sir Philip and Violet Vere. This seemed to be +really true according to all appearances. + +"Which it puzzles me," soliloquized the owner of the shapely calves. +"It do, indeed. Yet I feels very much for Sir Philip,--I said to +Flopsie this morning--'Flopsie, I feels for 'im!' Yes,--I used them +very words. Only, of course, he shouldn't 'ave gone with Vi. She's a +fine woman certainly--but skittish--d--d skittish! I've allus made +it a rule myself to avoid 'er on principle. Lor! if I'd kep' company +with 'er and the likes of 'er I shouldn't be the man I am!" And he +smiled complacently. + +Lord Winsleigh, who was in his library as usual, occupied with his +duties as tutor to his son Ernest, rose to receive Sir Philip with +an air of more than his usual gravity. + +"I was about to write to you, Errington," he began, and then stopped +short, touched by the utter misery expressed in Philip's face. He +addressed Ernest with a sort of nervous haste. + +"Run away, my boy, to your own room. I'll send for you again +presently." + +Ernest obeyed. "Now," said Lord Winsleigh, as soon as the lad +disappeared, "tell me everything, Errington. Is it true that your +wife has left you?" + +"Left me!" and Philip's eyes flashed with passionate anger. "No +Winsleigh!--she's been driven away from me by the vilest and most +heartless cruelty. She's been made to believe a scandalous and +abominable lie against me--and she's gone! I--I--by Jove! I hardly +like to say it to your face--but--" + +"I understand!" a curious flicker of a smile shadowed rather than +brightened Lord Winsleigh's stern features. "Pray speak quite +plainly! Lady Winsleigh is to blame? I am not at all surprised!" + +Errington gave him a rapid glance of wonder. He had always fancied +Winsleigh to be a studious, rather dull sort of man, absorbed in +books and the education of his son,--a man, more than half blind to +everything that went on around him--and, moreover, one who +deliberately shut his eyes to the frivolous coquetry of his wife,-- +and though he liked him fairly well, there had been a sort of vague +contempt mingled with his liking. Now a new light was suddenly +thrown on his character--there was something in his look, his +manner, his very tone of voice,--which proved to Errington that +there was a deep and forcible side to his nature of which his +closest friends had never dreamed--and he was somewhat taken aback +by the discovery. Seeing that he still hesitated, Winsleigh laid a +hand encouragingly on his shoulder and said-- + +"I repeat--I'm not at all surprised! Nothing that Lady Winsleigh +might do would cause me the slightest astonishment. She has long +ceased to be my wife, except in name,--that she still bears that +name and holds the position she has in the world is simply--for my +son's sake! I do not wish,"--his voice quivered slightly--"I do not +wish the boy to despise his mother. It's always a bad beginning for +a young man's life. I want to avoid it for Ernest, if possible,-- +regardless of any personal sacrifice." He paused a moment--then +resumed. "Now, speak out, Errington, and plainly,--for if mischief +has been done and I can repair it in any way, you may be sure I +will." + +Thus persuaded, Sir Philip briefly related the whole story of the +misunderstanding that had arisen concerning Neville's wife, Violet +Vere--and concluded by saying-- + +"It is, of course, only through Britta that I've just heard about +Lady Winsleigh's having anything to do with it. Her information may +not be correct--I hope it isn't,--but--" + +Lord Winsleigh interrupted him. "Come with me," he said composedly. +"We'll resolve this difficulty AT once." + +He led the way out of the library across the hall. Errington +followed him in silence. He knocked at the door of his wife's room,- +-in response to her "Come in!" they both entered. She was alone, +reclining on a sofa, reading,--she started up with a pettish +exclamation at sight of her husband, but observing who it was that +came with him, she stood mute, the color rushing to her cheeks with +surprise and something of fear. Yet she endeavored to smile, and +returned with her usual grace their somewhat formal salutations. + +"Clara," then said Lord Winsleigh gravely, "I have to ask you a +question on behalf of Sir Philip Errington here,--a question to +which it is necessary for you to give the plain answer. Did you or +did you not procure this letter from Violet Vere, of the Brilliant +Theatre--and did you or did you not, give it yourself yesterday into +the hands of Lady Bruce-Errington?" And he laid the letter in +question, which Philip had handed to him, down upon the table before +her. + +She looked at it--then at him--then from him to Sir Philip. who +uttered no word--and lightly shrugged her shoulders. + +"I don't know what you are talking about," she said, carelessly. + +Sir Philip turned upon her indignantly. + +"Lady Winsleigh, you DO know--" + +She interrupted him with a stately gesture. + +"Excuse me, Sir Philip! I am not accustomed to be spoken to in this +extraordinary manner. You forget yourself--my husband, I think, also +forgets himself! I know nothing whatever about Violet Vere--I am not +fond of the society of actresses. Of course, I've heard about your +admiration for her--that is common town-talk,--though my informant +on this point was Sir Francis Lennox." + +"Sir Francis Lennox!" cried Philip furiously. "Thank God! there's a +man to deal with! By Heaven, I'll choke him with his own lie!" + +Lady Winsleigh raised her eyebrows in well-bred surprise. + +"Dear me! It is a lie, then? Now, I should have thought from all +accounts that it was so very likely to be true!" + +Philip turned white with passion. Her sarcastic smile,--her mocking +glance,--irritated him almost beyond endurance. + +"Permit me to ask you, Clara," continued Lord Winsleigh calmly, "if +you,--as you say, know nothing about Violet Vere, why did you go to +the Brilliant Theatre yesterday morning?" + +She flashed an angry glance at him. + +"Why? To secure a box for the new performance. Is there anything +wonderful in that?" + +Her husband remained unmoved. "May I see the voucher for this box?" +he inquired. + +"I've sent it to some friends," replied her ladyship haughtily. +"Since when have you decided to become an inquisitor, my lord?" + +"Lady Winsleigh," said Philip suddenly and eagerly, "will you swear +to me that you have said or done nothing to make my Thelma leave +me?" + +"Oh, she HAS left you, has she?" and Lady Clara smiled maliciously. +"I thought she would! Why don't you ask your dear friend, George +Lorimer, about her? He is madly in love with her, as everybody +knows,--she is probably the same with him!" + +"Clara, Clara!" exclaimed Lord Winsleigh in accents of deep +reproach. "Shame on you! Shame!" + +Her ladyship laughed amusedly. "Please don't be tragic!" she said; +"it's too ridiculous! Sir Philip has only himself to blame. Of +course, Thelma knows about his frequent visits to the Brilliant +Theatre. I told her all that Sir Francis said. Why should she be +kept in the dark? I dare say she doesn't mind--she's very fond of +Mr. Lorimer!" + +Errington felt as though he must choke with fury. He forgot the +presence of Lord Winsleigh--he forgot everything but his just +indignation. + +"My God!" he cried passionately. "You DARE to speak so!--YOU!" + +"Yes I!" she returned coolly, measuring him with a glance. "I dare! +What have you to say against ME?" She drew herself up imperiously. + +Then turning to her husband, she said, "Have the goodness to take +your excited friend away, my lord! I am going out--I have a great +many engagements this morning--and I really cannot stop to discuss +this absurd affair any longer! It isn't my fault that Sir Philip's +excessive admiration for Miss Vere has become the subject of gossip- +-_I_ don't blame him for it! He seems extremely ill-tempered about +it; after all, 'ce n'est que la verite qui blesse!'" + +And she smiled maliciously. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + + "For my mother's sake, + For thine and hers, O Love! I pity take + On all poor women. Jesu's will be done, + Honor for all, and infamy for none, + This side the borders of the burning lake." + + ERIC MACKAY'S Love-Letters of a Violinist. + + +Lord Winsleigh did not move. Sir Philip fixed his eyes upon her in +silence. Some occult fascination forced her to meet his glance, and +the utter scorn of it stung her proud heart to its centre. Not that +she felt much compunction--her whole soul was up in arms against +him, and had been so from the very day she was first told of his +unexpected marriage. His evident contempt now irritated her--she was +angrier with him than ever, and yet--she had a sort of strange +triumph in the petty vengeance she had designed--she had destroyed +his happiness for a time, at least. If she could but shake his +belief in his wife! she thought, vindictively. To that end she had +thrown out her evil hint respecting Thelma's affection for George +Lorimer, but the shaft had been aimed uselessly. Errington knew too +well the stainless purity of Thelma to wrong her by the smallest +doubt, and he would have staked his life on the loyalty of his +friend. Presently he controlled his anger sufficiently to be able to +speak, and still eyeing her with that straight, keen look of +immeasurable disdain, he said in cold, deliberate accents-- + +"Your ladyship is in error,--the actress in question is the wife of +my secretary, Mr. Neville. For years they have been estranged--my +visits to her were entirely on Neville's behalf--my letters to her +were all on the same subject. Sir Francis Lennox must have known the +truth all along,--Violet Vere has been his mistress for the past +five years!" + +He uttered the concluding words with intense bitterness. A strange, +bewildered horror passed over Lady Winsleigh's face. + +"I don't believe it," she said rather faintly. + +"Believe it or not, it is true!" he replied curtly. "Ask the manager +of the Brilliant, if you doubt me. Winsleigh, it's no use my +stopping here any longer. As her ladyship refuses to give any +explanation--" + +"Wait a moment, Errington," interposed Lord Winsleigh in his coldest +and most methodical manner. "Her ladyship refuses--but _I_ do not +refuse! Her ladyship will not speak--she allows her husband to speak +for her. Therefore," and he smiled at his astonished wife somewhat +sardonically, "I may tell you at once, that her ladyship admits to +having purchased from Violet Vere for the sum of 20 pounds, the +letter which she afterwards took with her own hands to your wife." +Lady Winsleigh uttered an angry exclamation. + +"Don't interrupt me, Clara, if you please," he said, with an icy +smile. "We have so many sympathies in common that I'm sure I shall +be able to explain your unspoken meanings quite clearly." He went +on, addressing himself to Errington, who stood utterly amazed. + +"Her ladyship desires me to assure you that her only excuse for her +action in this matter is, that she fully believed the reports her +friend, Sir Francis Lennox, gave her concerning your supposed +intimacy with the actress in question,--and that, believing it, she +made use of it as much as possible for the purpose of destroying +your wife's peace of mind and confidence in you. Her object was most +purely feminine--love of mischief, and the gratification of private +spite! There's nothing like frankness!" and Lord Winsleigh's face +was a positive study as he spoke. "You see,"--he made a slight +gesture towards his wife, who stood speechless, and so pale that her +very lips were colorless--"her ladyship is not in a position to deny +what I have said. Excuse her silence!" + +And again he smiled--that smile as glitteringly chilled as a gleam +of light on the edge of a sword. Lady Winsleigh raised her head, and +her eyes met his with a dark expression of the uttermost anger. +"Spy!" she hissed between her teeth,--then without further word or +gesture, she swept haughtily away into her dressing-room, which +adjoined the boudoir, and closed the door of communication, thus +leaving the two men alone together. + +Errington felt himself to be in a most painful and awkward position. +If there was anything he more than disliked, it was a SCENE-- +particularly of a domestic nature. And he had just had a glimpse +into Lord and Lady Winsleigh's married life, which, to him, was +decidedly unpleasant. He could not understand how Lord Winsleigh had +become cognizant of all he had so frankly stated--and then, why had +he not told him everything at first, without waiting to declare it +in his wife's presence? Unless, indeed, he wished to shame her? +There was evidently something in the man's disposition and character +that he, Philip, could not as yet comprehend,--something that +certainly puzzled him, and filled him with vague uneasiness. + +"Winsleigh, I'm awfully sorry this has happened," he began +hurriedly, holding out his hand. + +Lord Winsleigh grasped it cordially. "My dear fellow, so am I! +Heartily sorry! I have to be sorry for a good many things rather +often. But I'm specially grieved to think that your beautiful and +innocent young wife is the victim in this case. Unfortunately I was +told nothing till this morning, otherwise I might possibly have +prevented all your unhappiness. But I trust it won't be of long +duration. Here's this letter," he returned it as he spoke, "which in +more than one way has cost so large a price. Possibly her ladyship +may now regret her ill-gotten purchase." + +"Pardon me," said Errington curiously, "but how did you know--" + +"The information was pressed upon me very much," replied Lord +Winsleigh evasively, "and from such a source that up to the last +moment I almost refused to believe it." He paused, and then went on +with a forced smile, "Suppose we don't talk any more about it, +Errington? The subject's rather painful to me. Only allow me to ask +your pardon for my wife's share in the mischief!" + +Something in his manner of speaking affected Sir Philip. + +"Upon my soul, Winsleigh," he exclaimed with sudden fervor, "I fancy +you're a man greatly wronged!" + +Lord Winsleigh smiled slightly. "You only FANCY?" he said quietly. +"Well,--my good friend, we all have our troubles--I dare say mine +are no greater than those of many better men." He stopped short, +then asked abruptly, "I suppose you'll see Lennox?" + +Errington set his teeth hard. "I shall,--at once!" he replied. "And +I shall probably thrash him within an inch of his life!" + +"That's right! I shan't be sorry!" and Lord Winsleigh's hand +clenched almost unconsciously. "I hope you understand, Errington, +that if it hadn't been for my son, I should have shot that fellow +long ago. I dare say you wonder,--and some others too,--why I +haven't done it. But Ernest--poor little chap!.. . . he would have +heard of it,--and the reason of it,--his young life is involved in +mine--why should I bequeath him a dishonored mother's name? There-- +for heaven's sake, don't let me make a fool of myself!" and he +fiercely dashed his hand across his eyes. "A duel or a divorce--or a +horsewhipping--they all come to pretty much the same thing--all +involve public scandal for the name of the woman who may be +unhappily concerned--and scandal clings, like the stain on Lady +Macbeth's hand. In your case you can act--YOUR wife is above a +shadow of suspicion--but I--oh, my God! how much women have to +answer for in the miseries of this world!" + +Errington said nothing. Pity and respect for the man before him held +him silent. Here was one of the martyrs of modern social life--a man +who evidently knew himself to be dishonored by his wife,--and who +yet, for the sake of his son, submitted to be daily broken on the +wheel of private torture rather than let the boy grow up to despise +and slight his mother. Whether he were judged as wise or weak in his +behavior there was surely something noble about him--something +unselfish and heroic that deserved recognition. Presently Lord +Winsleigh continued in calmer tones-- + +"I've been talking too much about myself, Errington, I fear--forgive +it! Sometimes I've thought you misunderstood me--" + +"I never shall again!" declared Philip earnestly. + +Lord Winsleigh met his look of sympathy with one of gratitude. + +"Thanks!" he said briefly,--and with this they shook hands again +heartily, and parted. Lord Winsleigh saw his visitor to the door-- +and then at once returned to his wife's apartments. She was still +absent from the boudoir--he therefore entered her dressing-room +without ceremony. + +There he found her,--alone, kneeling on the floor, her head buried +in an arm-chair,--and her whole frame shaken with convulsive sobs. +He looked down upon her with a strange wistful pain in his eyes,-- +pain mingled with compassion. + +"Clara!" he said gently. She started and sprang up--confronting him +with flushed cheeks and wet eyes. + +"YOU here?" she exclaimed angrily. "I wonder you dare to--" she +broke off, confused by his keen, direct glance. + +"It IS a matter for wonder," he said quietly. "It's the strangest +thing in the world that I--your husband--should venture to intrude +myself into your presence! Nothing could be more out of the common. +But I have something to say to you--something which must be said +sooner or later--and I may as well speak now." + +He paused,--she was silent, looking at him in a sort of sudden fear. + +"Sit down," he continued in the same even tones. "You must have a +little patience with me--I'll endeavor to be as brief as possible." + +Mechanically she obeyed him and sank into a low fauteuil. She began +playing with the trinkets on her silver chatelaine, and endeavored +to feign the most absolute unconcern, but her heart beat quickly-- +she could not imagine what was coming next--her husband's manner and +tone were quite new to her. + +"You accused me just now," he went on, "of being a spy. I have never +condescended to act such a part toward you, Clara. When I first +married you I trusted you with my life, my honor, and my name, and +though you have betrayed all three"--she moved restlessly as his +calm gaze remained fixed on her--"I repeat,--though you have +betrayed all three,--I have deliberately shut my eyes to the ruin of +my hopes, in a loyal endeavor to shield you from the world's +calumny. Regarding the unhappiness you have caused the Erringtons,-- +your own maid Louise Renaud (who has given you notice of her +intention to leave you) told me all she knew of your share in what I +may call positive cruelty, towards a happy and innocent woman who +has never injured you, and whose friend you declared yourself to +be--" + +"You believe the lies of a servant?" suddenly cried Lady Winsleigh +wrathfully. + +"Have not YOU believed the lies of Sir Francis Lennox, who is less +honest than a servant?" asked her husband, his grave voice deepening +with a thrill of passion. "And haven't you reported them everywhere +as truths? But as regards your maid--I doubted her story altogether. +She assured me she knew what money you took out with you yesterday, +and what you returned with--and as the only place you visited in the +morning was the Brilliant Theatre,--after having received a telegram +from Lennox, which she saw,--it was easy for her to put two and two +together, especially as she noticed you reading the letter you had +purchased--moreover"--he paused--"she has heard certain +conversations between you and Sir Francis, notably one that took +place at the garden-party in the summer at Errington Manor. Spy? you +say? your detective has been paid by you,--fed and kept about your +own person,--to minister to your vanity and to flatter your pride-- +that she has turned informer against you is not surprising. Be +thankful that her information has fallen into no more malignant +hands than mine!" + +Again he paused--she was still silent--but her lips trembled +nervously. + +"And yet I was loth to believe everything"--he resumed half sadly-- +"till Errington came and showed me that letter and told me the whole +story of his misery. Even then I thought I would give you one more +chance--that's why I brought him to you and asked you the question +before him. One look at your face told me you were guilty, though +you denied it. I should have been better pleased had you confessed +it! But why talk about it any longer?--the mischief is done--I trust +it is not irreparable. I certainly consider that before troubling +that poor girl's happiness,--you should have taken the precaution to +inquire a little further into the truth of the reports you heard +from Sir Francis Lennox,--he is not a reliable authority on any +question whatsoever. You may have thought him so--" he stopped short +and regarded her with sorrowful sternness--"I say, Clara, you may +have thought him so, once--but NOW? Are you proud to have shared his +affections with--Violet Vere?" + +She uttered a sharp cry and covered her face with her hands,--an +action which appeared to smite her husband to the heart,--for his +voice trembled with deep feeling when he next spoke. + +"Ah, best hide it, Clara!" he said passionately. "Hide that fair +face I loved so well--hide those eyes in which I dreamed of finding +my life's sunshine! Clara, Clara! What can I say to you, fallen rose +of womanhood? How can I--" he suddenly bent over her as though to +caress her, then drew back with a quick agonized sigh. "You thought +me blind, Clara!. . . ." he went on in low tones, "blind to my own +dishonor--blind to your faithlessness,--I tell you if you had taken +my heart between your hands and wrung the blood out of it drop by +drop, I could not have suffered more than I have done! Why have I +been silent so long?--no matter why,--but NOW, now Clara,--this life +of ours must end!" + +She shuddered away from him. + +"End it then!" she muttered in a choked voice. "You can do as you +like,--you can divorce me." + +"Yes," said Lord Winsleigh musingly. "I can divorce you! There will +be no defense possible,--as you know. If witnesses are needed, they +are to be had in the persons of our own domestics. The co-respondent +in the case will not refute the charge against him,--and I, the +plaintiff, MUST win my just cause. Do you realize it all, Clara? +You, the well-known leader of a large social circle--you, the proud +beauty and envied lady of rank and fashion,--you will be made a +subject for the coarse jests of lawyers,--the very judge on the +bench will probably play off his stale witticism at your expense,-- +your dearest friends will tear your name to shreds,--the newspapers +will reek of your doings,--and honest housemaids reading of your +fall from your high estate, will thank God that their souls and +bodies are more chaste than yours! And last,--not least,--think when +old age creeps on, and your beauty withers,--think of your son grown +to manhood,--the sole heir to my name,--think of him as having but +one thing to blush for--the memory of his dishonored mother!" + +"Cruel--cruel!" she cried, endeavoring to check her sobs, and +withdrawing her hands from her face. "Why do you say such things to +me? Why did you marry me?" + +He caught her hands and held them in a fast grip. + +"Why? Because I loved you, Clara--loved you with all the tenderness +of a strong man's heart! When I first saw you, you seemed to me the +very incarnation of maiden purity and loveliness! The days of our +courtship--the first few months of our marriage--what they were to +you, I know not,--to me they were supreme happiness. When our boy +was born, my adoration, my reverence for you increased--you were so +sacred in my eyes, that I could have knelt and asked a benediction +from these little hands"--here he gently loosened them from his +clasp. "Then came the change--WHAT changed you, I cannot imagine--it +has always seemed to me unnatural, monstrous, incredible! There was +no falling away in MY affection, that I can swear! My curse upon the +man who turned your heart from mine! So rightful and deep a curse is +it that I feel it must some day strike home." + +He paused and seemed to reflect. "Who is there more vile, more +traitorous than he?" he went on. "Has he not tried to influence +Errington's wife against her husband? For what base purpose? But +Clara,--he is powerless against HER purity and innocence;--what, in +the name of God, gave him power over YOU?" + +She drooped her head, and the hot blood rushed to her face. + +"You've said enough!" she murmured sullenly. "If you have decided on +a divorce, pray carry out your intention with the least possible +delay. I cannot talk any more! I--I am tired!" + +"Clara," said her husband solemnly, with a strange light in his +eyes, "I would rather kill you than divorce you!" + +There was something so terribly earnest in his tone that her heart +beat fast with fear. + +"Kill me?--kill me?" she gasped, with white lips. + +"Yes!" he repeated, "kill you,--as a Frenchman or an Italian would,- +-and take the consequences. Yes--though an Englishman, I would +rather do this than drag your frail poor womanhood through the mire +of public scandal! I have, perhaps, a strange nature, but such as I +am, I am. There are too many of our high-born families already, +flaunting their immorality and low licentiousness in the face of the +mocking, grinning populace,--I for one could never make up my mind +to fling the honor of my son's mother to them, as though it were a +bone for dogs to fight over. No--I have another proposition to make +to you--" + +He stopped short. She stared at him wonderingly. He resumed in +methodical, unmoved, business-like tones. + +"I propose, Clara, simply,--to leave you! I'll take the boy and +absent myself from this country, so as to give you perfect freedom +and save you all trouble. There'll be no possibility of scandal, for +I will keep you cognizant of my movements,--and should you require +my presence at any time for the sake of appearances,--or--to shield +you from calumny,--you may rely on my returning to you at once,-- +without delay. Ernest will gain many advantages by travel,--his +education is quite a sufficient motive for my departure, my interest +in his young life being well known to all our circle. Moreover, with +me--under my surveillance--he need never know anything against-- +against you. I have always taught him to honor and obey you in his +heart." + +Lord Winsleigh paused a moment--then went on, somewhat musingly;-- +"When he was quite little, he used to wonder why you didn't love +him,--it was hard for me to hear him say that, sometimes. But I +always told him that you did love him--but that you had so many +visits to makes and so many friends to entertain, that you had no +time to play with him. I don't think he quite understood,--but +still--I did my best!" + +He was silent. She had hidden her face again in her hands, and he +heard a sound of smothered sobbing. + +"I think," he continued calmly, "that he has a great reverence for +you in his young heart--a feeling which partakes, perhaps, more of +fear than love--still it is better than--disdain--or--or disrespect. +I shall always teach him to esteem you highly,--but I think, as +matters stand--if I relieve you of all your responsibilities to +husband and son--you--Clara!--pray don't distress yourself--there's +no occasion for this--Clara--" + +For on a sudden impulse she had flung herself at his feet in an +irrepressible storm of passionate weeping. + +"Kill me, Harry!" she sobbed wildly, clinging to him. "Kill me! +don't speak to me like this!--don't leave me! Oh, my God! don't, +don't despise me so utterly! Hate me--curse me--strike me--do +anything, but don't leave me as if I were some low thing, unfit for +your touch,--I know I am, but oh, Harry!. . ." She clung to him more +closely. "If you leave me I will not live,--I cannot! Have you no +pity? Why would you throw me back alone--all, all alone, to die of +your contempt and my shame!" + +And she bowed her head in an agony of tears. + +He looked down upon her a moment in silence. + +"Your shame!" he murmured. "My wife--" + +Then he raised her in his arms and drew her with a strange +hesitation of touch, to his breast, as though she were some sick or +wounded child, and watched her as she lay there weeping, her face +hidden, her whole frame trembling in his embrace. + +"Poor soul!" he whispered, more to himself than to her. "Poor frail +woman! Hush, hush, Clara! The past is past! I'll make you no more +reproaches. I--I CAN'T hurt you, because I once so loved you--but +now--now,--what IS there left for me to do, but to leave you? You'll +be happier so--you'll have perfect liberty--you needn't even think +of me--unless, perhaps, as one dead and buried long ago--" + +She raised herself in his arms and looked at him piteously. + +"Won't you give me a chance?" she sobbed. "Not one? If I had but +known you better--if I had understood oh, I've been vile, wicked, +deceitful--but I'm not happy, Harry--I've never been happy since I +wronged you! Won't you give me one little hope that I may win your +love again,--no, not your love, but your pity? Oh, Harry, have I +lost all--all--" + +Her voice broke--she could say no more. + +He stroked her hair gently. "You speak on impulse just now, Clara," +he said gravely yet tenderly. "You can't know your own strength or +weakness. God forbid that _I_ should judge you harshly! As you wish +it, I will not leave you yet. I'll wait. Whether we part or remain +together, shall be decided by your own actions, your own looks, your +own words. You understand, Clara? You know my feelings. I'm content +for the present to place my fate in your hands." He smiled rather +sadly. "But for love, Clara--I fear nothing can be done to warm to +life this poor perished love of ours. We can, perhaps, take hands +and watch its corpse patiently together and say how sorry we are it +is dead--such penitence comes always too late!" + +He sighed, and put her gently away from him. + +She turned up her flushed, tear-stained face to his. + +"Will you kiss me, Harry?" she asked tremblingly. He met her eyes, +and an exclamation that was almost a groan broke from his lips. A +shudder passed through his frame. + +"I can't, Clara! I can't--God forgive me!--Not yet!" And with that +he bowed his head and left her. + +She listened to the echo of his firm footsteps dying away, and +creeping guiltily to a side-door she opened it, and watched +yearningly his retreating figure till it had disappeared. + +"Why did I never love him till now?" she murmured sobbingly. "Now, +when he despises me--when he will not even kiss me?--" She leaned +against the half-open door in an attitude of utter dejection, not +caring to move, listening intently with a vague hope of hearing her +husband's returning tread. A lighter step than his, however, came +suddenly along from the other side of the passage and startled her a +little--it was Ernest, looking the picture of boyish health and +beauty. He was just going out for his usual ride--he lifted his cap +with a pretty courtesy as he saw her, and said-- + +"Good-morning, mother!" + +She looked at him with new interest,--how handsome the lad was!--how +fresh his face!--how joyously clear those bright blue eyes of his! +He, on his part, was moved by a novel sensation too--his mother,-- +his proud, beautiful, careless mother had been crying--he saw that +at a glance, and his young heart beat faster when she laid her white +hand, sparkling all over with rings, on his arm and drew him closer +to her. + +"Are you going to the Park?" she asked gently. + +"Yes." Then recollecting his training in politeness and obedience he +added instantly--"Unless you want me." + +She smiled faintly. "I never do want you--do I, Ernest?" she asked +half sadly. "I never want my boy at all." Her voice quivered,--and +Ernest grew more and more astonished. + +"If you do, I'll stay," he said stoutly, filled with a chivalrous +desire to console his so suddenly tender mother of his, whatever her +griefs might be. Her eyes filled again, but she tried to laugh. + +"No dear--not now,--run along and enjoy yourself. Come to me when +you return. I shall be at home all day. And,--stop Ernest--won't you +kiss me? " + +The boy opened his eyes wide in respectful wonderment, and his +cheeks flushed with surprise and pleasure. + +"Why, mother--of course!" And his fresh, sweet lips closed on hers +with frank and unaffected heartiness. She held him fast for a moment +and looked at him earnestly. + +"Tell your father you kissed me--will you?" she said. "Don't +forget!" + +And with that she waved her hand to him, and retreated again into +her own apartment. The boy went on his way somewhat puzzled and +bewildered--did his mother love him, after all? If so, he thought-- +how glad he was!--how very glad! and what a pity he had not known it +before! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + + "I heed not custom, creed, nor law; + I care for nothing that ever I saw-- + I terribly laugh with an oath and sneer, + When I think that the hour of Death draws near!" + + W. WINTER. + + +Errington's first idea, on leaving Winsleigh House, was to seek an +interview with Sir Francis Lennox, and demand an explanation. He +could not understand the man's motive for such detestable treachery +and falsehood. His anger rose to a white heat as he thought of it, +and he determined to "have it out" with him whatever the +consequences might be. "No apology will serve his turn," he +muttered. "The scoundrel! He has lied deliberately--and, by Jove, he +shall pay for it!" + +And he started off rapidly in the direction of Piccadilly, but on +the way he suddenly remembered that he had no weapon with him, not +even a cane wherewith to carry out his intention of thrashing Sir +Francis, and calling to mind a certain heavy horsewhip, that hung +over the mantel-piece in his own room, he hailed a hansom, and was +driven back to his house in order to provide himself with that +implement of castigation before proceeding further. On arriving at +the door, to his surprise he found Lorimer who was just about to +ring the bell. + +"Why, I thought you were in Paris?" he exclaimed. + +"I came back last night," George began, when Morris opened the door, +and Errington, taking his friend by the arm hurried him into the +house. In five minutes he had unburdened himself of all his +troubles--and had explained the misunderstanding about Violet Vere +and Thelma's consequent flight. Lorimer listened with a look of +genuine pain and distress on his honest face. + +"Phil, you HAVE been a fool!" he said candidly. "A positive fool, if +you'll pardon me for saying so. You ought to have told Thelma +everything at first,--she's the very last woman in the world who +ought to be kept in the dark about anything. Neville's feelings? +Bother Neville's feelings! Depend upon it the poor girl has heard +all manner of stories. She's been miserable for some time--Duprez +noticed it." And he related in a few words the little scene that had +taken place at Errington Manor on the night of the garden-party, +when his playing on the organ had moved her to such unwonted +emotion. + +Philip heard him in moody silence,--how had it happened, he +wondered, that others,--comparative strangers,--had observed that +Thelma looked unhappy, while he, her husband, had been blind to it? +He could not make this out,--and yet it is a thing that very +commonly happens. Our nearest and dearest are often those who are +most in the dark respecting our private and personal sufferings,--we +do not wish to trouble them,--and they prefer to think that +everything is right with us, even though the rest of the world can +plainly perceive that everything is wrong. To the last moment they +will refuse to see death in our faces, though the veriest stranger +meeting us casually, clearly beholds the shadow of the dark Angel's +hand. + +"Apropos of Lennox," went on Lorimer, sympathetically watching his +friend, "I came on purpose to speak to you about him. I've got some +news for you. He's a regular sneak and scoundrel. You can thrash him +to your heart's content for he has grossly insulted your wife." + +"INSULTED her?" cried Errington furiously. "How,--What--" + +"Give me time to speak!" And George laid a restraining hand on his +arm. "Thelma visited my mother yesterday and told her that on the +night before, when you had gone out, Lennox took advantage of your +absence to come here and make love to her,--and she actually had to +struggle with him, and even to strike him, in order to release +herself from his advances. My mother advised her to tell you about +it--and she evidently then had no intention of flight, for she said +she would inform you of everything as soon as you returned from the +country. And if Lady Winsleigh hadn't interfered, it's very probable +that--I say, where are you going?" This as Philip made a bound for +the door. + +"To get my horsewhip!" he answered. + +"All right--I approve!" cried Lorimer. "But wait one instant, and +see how clear the plot becomes. Thelma's beauty had maddened +Lennox,--to gain her good opinion, as he thinks, he throws his +mistress, Violet Vere, on YOUR shoulders--(your ingenuous visits to +the Brilliant Theatre gave him a capital pretext for this) and as +for Lady Winsleigh's share in the mischief, it's nothing but mere +feminine spite against you for marrying at all, and hatred of the +woman whose life is such a contrast to her own, and who absorbs all +your affection. Lennox has used her as his tool and the Vere also, +I've no doubt. The thing's as clear as crystal. It's a sort of +general misunderstanding all round--one of those eminently +unpleasant trifles that very frequently upset the peace and comfort +of the most quiet and inoffensive persons. But the fault lies with +YOU, dear old boy!" + +"With ME!" exclaimed Philip. + +"Certainly! Thelma's soul is as open as daylight--you shouldn't have +had any secret from her, however trifling. She's not a woman 'on +guard,'--she can't take life as the most of us do, in military +fashion, with ears pricked for the approach of a spy, and prepared +to expect betrayal from her most familiar friends. She accepts +things as they appear, without any suspicion of mean ulterior +designs. It's a pity, of course!--it's a pity she can't be worldly- +wise, and scheme and plot and plan and lie like the rest of us! +However, YOUR course is plain--first interview Lennox and then +follow Thelma. She can't have left Hull yet,--there are scarcely any +boats running to Norway at this season. You'll overtake her I'm +certain." + +"By Jove, Lorimer!" said Errington suddenly. "Clara Winsleigh sticks +at nothing--do you know she actually had the impudence to suggest +that YOU,--you, of all people,--were in love with Thelma!" + +Lorimer flushed up, but laughed lightly. "How awfully sweet of her! +Much obliged to her, I'm sure! And how did you take it Phil?" + +"Take it? I didn't take it at all," responded Philip warmly. "Of +course, I knew it was only her spite--she'd say anything in one of +her tempers." + +Lorimer looked at him with a sudden tenderness in his blue eyes. +Then he laughed again, a little forcedly, and said-- + +"Be off, old man, and get that whip of yours! We'll run Lennox to +earth. Hullo! here's Britta!" + +The little maid entered hurriedly at that moment,--she came to ask +with quivering lips, whether she might accompany Sir Philip in his +intended journey to Norway. + +"For if you do not find the Froken at Hull, you will want to reach +the Altenfjord," said Britta, folding hands resolutely in front of +her apron, "and you will not get on without me. You do not know what +the country is like in the depth of winter when the sun is asleep. +You must have the reindeer to help you--and no Englishman knows how +to drive reindeer. And--and--"here Britta's eyes filled--"you have +not thought, perhaps, that the journey may make the Froken very ill- +-and that when we find her--she may be dying--" and Britta's +strength gave way in a big sob that broke from the depths of her +honest, affectionate heart. + +"Don't--DON'T talk like that, Britta!" cried Philip passionately. "I +can't bear it! Of course, you shall go with me! I wouldn't leave you +behind for the world! Get everything ready--" and in a fever of heat +and impatience he began rumaging among some books on a side-shelf, +till he found the time-tables he sought. "Yes,--here we are,-- +there's a train leaving for Hull at five--we'll take that. Tell +Morris to pack my portmanteau, and you bring it along with you to +the Midland railway-station this afternoon. Do you understand?" + +Britta nodded emphatically, and hurried off at once to busy herself +with these preparations, while Philip, all excitement, dashed off to +give a few parting injunctions to Neville, and to get his horsewhip. + +Lorimer, left alone for a few minutes, seated himself in an easy +chair and began absently turning over the newspapers on the table. +But his thoughts were far away, and presently he covered his eyes +with one hand as though the light hurt them. When he removed it, his +lashes were wet. + +"What a fool I am!" he muttered impatiently. "Oh Thelma, Thelma! my +darling!--how I wish I could follow and find you and console you!-- +you poor, tender, resigned soul, going away like this because you +thought you were not wanted--not wanted!--my God!--if you only knew +how one man at least has wanted and yearned for you ever since he +saw your sweet face!--Why can't I tear you out of my heart--why +can't I love some one else? Ah Phil!--good, generous, kind old +Phil!--he little guesses," he rose and paced the room up and down +restlessly. "The fact is I oughtn't to be here at all--I ought to +leave England altogether for a long time--till--till I get over it. +The question is, SHALL I ever get over it? Sigurd was a wise boy--he +found a short way out of all his troubles,--suppose I imitate his +example? No,--for a man in his senses that would be rather cowardly- +-though it might be pleasant!" He stopped in his walk with a +pondering expression on his face. "At any rate, I won't stop here to +see her come back--I couldn't trust myself,--I should say something +foolish--I know I should! I'll take my mother to Italy--she wants to +go; and we'll stay with Lovelace. It'll be a change--and I'll have a +good stand-up fight with myself, and see if I can't come off the +conqueror somehow! It's all very well to kill an opponent in battle +but the question is, can a man kill his inner, grumbling, +discontented, selfish Self? If he can't, what's the good of him?" + +As he was about to consider this point reflectively, Errington +entered, equipped for travelling, and whip in hand. His imagination +had been at work during the past few minutes, exaggerating all the +horrors and difficulties of Thelma's journey to the Altenfjord, till +he was in a perfect fever of irritable excitement. + +"Come on Lorimer!" he cried. "There's no time to lose! Britta knows +what to do--she'll meet me at the station. I can't breathe in this +wretched house a moment longer--let's be off!" + +Plunging out into the hall, he bade Morris summon a hansom,--and +with a few last instructions to that faithful servitor, and an +encouraging kind word and shake of the hand to Neville, who with a +face of remorseful misery, stood at the door to watch his +departure,--he was gone. The hansom containing him and Lorimer +rattled rapidly towards the abode of Sir Francis Lennox, but on +entering Piccadilly, the vehicle was compelled to go so slowly on +account of the traffic, that Errington, who every moment grew more +and more impatient, could not stand it. + +"By Jove! this is like a walking funeral!" he muttered. "I say +Lorimer, let's get out! We can do the rest on foot." + +They stopped the cabman and paid him his fare--then hurried along +rapidly, Errington every now and then giving a fiercer clench to the +formidable horsewhip which was twisted together with his ordinary +walking-stick in such a manner as not to attract special attention. + +"Coward and liar!" he muttered, as he thought of the man he was +about to punish. "He shall pay for his dastardly falsehood--by Jove +he shall! It'll be a precious long time before he shows himself in +society any more!" + +Then he addressed Lorimer. "You may depend upon it he'll shout +'police! police!' and make for the door," he observed. "You keep +your back against it, Lorimer! I don't care how many fines I've got +to pay as long as I can thrash him soundly!" + +"All right!" Lorimer answered, and they quickened their pace. As +they neared the chambers which Sir Francis Lennox rented over a +fashionable jeweller's shop, they became aware of a small procession +coming straight towards them from the opposite direction. SOMETHING +was being carried between four men who appeared to move with extreme +care and gentleness,--this something was surrounded by a crowd of +boys and men whose faces were full of morbid and frightened +interest--the whole cortege was headed by a couple of solemn +policemen. "You spoke of a walking funeral just now," said Lorimer +suddenly. "This looks uncommonly like one." + +Errington made no reply--he had only one idea in his mind,--the +determination to chastise and thoroughly disgrace Sir Francis. "I'll +hound him out of the clubs!" he thought indignantly. "His own set +shall know what a liar he is--and if I can help it he shall never +hold up his head again!" + +Entirely occupied as he was with these reflections, he paid no heed +to anything that was going on in the street, and he scarcely heard +Lorimer's last observation. So that he was utterly surprised and +taken aback, when he, with Lorimer, was compelled to come to a halt +before the very door of the jeweller, Lennox's landlord, while the +two policemen cleared a passage through the crowd, saying in low +tones, "Stand aside, gentlemen, please!--stand aside," thus making +gradual way for four bearers, who, as was now plainly to be seen, +carried a common wooden stretcher covered with a cloth, under which +lay what seemed, from its outline, to be a human figure. + +"What's the matter here?" asked Lorimer, with a curious cold thrill +running through him as he put the simple question. + +One of the policemen answered readily enough. + +"An accident, sir. Gentleman badly hurt. Down at Charing Cross +Station--tried to jump into a train when it had started,--foot +caught,--was thrown under the wheels and dragged along some +distance--doctor says he can't live, sir." + +"Who is he,--what's his name?" + +"Lennox, sir--leastways, that's the name on his card--and this is +the address. Sir Francis Lennox, I believe it is." + +Errington uttered a sharp exclamation of horror,--at that moment the +jeweller came out of the recesses of his shop with uplifted hands +and bewildered countenance. + +"An accident? Good Heavens!--Sir Francis! Up-stairs!--take him up- +stairs!" Here he addressed the bearers. "You should have gone round +to the private entrance--he mustn't be seen in the shop--frightening +away all my customers--here, pass through!--pass through, as quick +as you can!" + +And they did pass through,--carrying their crushed burden tenderly +along by the shining glass cases and polished counters, where +glimmered and flashed jewels of every size and lustre for the +adorning of the children of this world,--slowly and carefully, step +by step, they reached the upper floor,--and there, in a luxurious +apartment furnished with almost feminine elegance, they lifted the +inanimate form from the stretcher and laid it down, still shrouded, +on a velvet sofa, removing the last number of Truth, and two of +Zola's novels, to make room for the heavy, unconscious head. + +Errington and Lorimer stood at the doorway, completely overcome by +the suddenness of the event--they had followed the bearers up-stairs +almost mechanically,--exchanging no word or glance by the way,--and +now they watched in almost breathless suspense while a surgeon who +was present, gently turned back the cover that hid the injured man's +features and exposed them to full view. Was THAT Sir Francis? that +blood-smeared, mangled creature?--THAT the lascivious dandy,--the +disciple of no-creed and self-worship? Errington shuddered and +averted his gaze from that hideous face,--so horribly contorted,-- +yet otherwise deathlike in its rigid stillness. There was a grave +hush. The surgeon still bent over him--touching here, probing there, +with tenderness and skill,--but finally he drew back with a hopeless +shake of his head. + +"Nothing can be done," he whispered. "Absolutely nothing!" + +At that moment Sir Francis stirred,--he groaned and opened his +eyes;--what terrible eyes they were, filled with that look of +intense anguish, and something worse than anguish,--fear--frantic +fear--coward fear--fear that was almost more overpowering than his +bodily suffering. + +He stared wildly at the little group assembled--strange faces, so +far as he could make them out, that regarded him with evident +compassion,--what--what was all this--what did it mean? Death? No, +no! he thought madly, while his brain reeled with the idea--death? +What WAS death?--darkness, annihilation, blackness--all that was +horrible--unimaginable! God! he would NOT die! God!--who WAS God? No +matter--he would live;--he would struggle against this heaviness,-- +this coldness--this pillar of ice in which he was being slowly +frozen--frozen--frozen!--inch by--inch! He made a furious effort to +move, and uttered a scream of agony, stabbed through and through by +torturing pain. + +"Keep still!" said the surgeon pityingly. + +Sir Francis heard him not. He wrestled with his bodily anguish till +the perspiration stood in large drops on his forehead. He raised +himself, gasping for breath, and glared about him like a trapped +beast of prey. + +"Give me brandy!" he muttered chokingly. "Quick--quick! Are you +going to let me die like a dog?--damn you all!" + +The effort to move,--to speak,--exhausted his sinking strength--his +throat rattled,--he clenched his fists and made as though he would +spring off his couch--when a fearful contortion convulsed his whole +body,--his eyes rolled up and became fixed--he fell heavily back,-- +DEAD! + +Quietly the surgeon covered again what was now nothing,--nothing but +a mutilated corpse. + +"It's all over!" he announce briefly. + +Errington heard these words in sickened silence. All over! Was it +possible? So soon? All over!--and he had come too late to punish the +would-be ravisher of his wife's honor,--too late! He still held the +whip in his hand with which he had meant to chastise that--that +distorted, mangled lump of clay yonder, . . . pah! he could not bear +to think of it, and he turned away, faint and dizzy. He felt,-- +rather than saw the staircase,--down which he dreamily went, +followed by Lorimer. + +The two policemen were in the hall scribbling the cut-and-dry +particulars of the accident in their note-books, which having done, +they marched off, attended by a wandering, bilious-looking penny-a- +liner who was anxious to write a successful account of the "Shocking +Fatality," as it was called in the next day's newspapers. Then the +bearers departed cheerfully, carrying with them the empty stretcher. +Then the jeweller, who seemed quite unmoved respecting the sudden +death of his lodger, chatted amicably with the surgeon about the +reputation and various demerits of the deceased,--and Errington and +Lorimer, as they passed through the shop, heard him speaking of a +person hitherto unheard of, namely, Lady Francis Lennox, who had +been deserted by her husband for the past six years, and who was +living uncomplainingly the life of an art-student in Germany with +her married sister, maintaining, by the work of her own hands, her +one little child, a boy of five. + +"He never allowed her a farthing," said the conversational jeweller. +"And she never asked him for one. Mr. Wiggins, his lawyer--firm of +Wiggins & Whizzer, Furnival's Inn,--told me all about his affairs. +Oh yes--he was a regular "masher"--tip-top! Not worth much, I should +say. He must have spent over a thousand a year in keeping up that +little place at St. John's Wood for Violet Vere. He owes me five +hundred. However, Mr. Wiggins will see everything fair, I've no +doubt. I've just wired to him, announcing the death. I don't suppose +any one will regret him--except, perhaps, the woman at St. John's +Wood. But I believe she's playing for a bigger stake just now." And, +stimulated by this thought, he drew out from a handsome morocco case +a superb pendant of emeralds and diamonds--a work of art, that +glittered as he displayed it, like a star on a frosty night. + +"Pretty thing, isn't it?" he said proudly. "Eight hundred pounds, +and cheap, too! It was ordered for Miss Vere, two months ago, by the +Duke of Moorlands. I see he sold his collection of pictures the +other day. Luckily they fetched a tidy sum, so I'm pretty sure of +the money for this. He'll sell everything he's got to please her. +Queer? Oh, not at all! She's the rage just now,--I can't see +anything in her myself,--but I'm not a duke, you see--I'm obliged to +be respectable!" + +He laughed as he returned the pendant to its nest of padded amber +satin, and Errington,--sick at heart to hear such frivolous converse +going on while that crushed and lifeless form lay in the very room +above,--unwatched, uncared-for,--put his arm through Lorimer's and +left the shop. + +Once in the open street, with the keen, cold air blowing against +their faces, they looked at each other blankly. Piccadilly was +crowded; the hurrying people passed and re-passed,--there were the +shouts of omnibus conductors and newsboys--the laughter of young men +coming out of the St. James's Hall Restaurant; all was as usual,-- +as, indeed, why should it not? What matters the death of one man in +a million? unless, indeed, it be a man whose life, like a torch, +uplifted in darkness, has enlightened and cheered the world,--but +the death of a mere fashionable "swell" whose chief talent has been +a trick of lying gracefully--who cares for such a one? Society is +instinctively relieved to hear that his place is empty, and shall +know him more. But Errington could not immediately forget the scene +he had witnessed. He was overcome by sensations of horror,--even of +pity,--and he walked by his friend's side for some time in silence. + +"I wish I could get rid of this thing!" he said suddenly, looking +down at the horsewhip in his hand. + +Lorimer made no answer. He understood his feeling, and realized the +situation as sufficiently grim. To be armed with a weapon meant for +the chastisement of a man whom Death had so suddenly claimed was, to +say the least of it, unpleasant. Yet the horsewhip could scarcely be +thrown away in Piccadilly--such an action might attract notice and +comment. Presently Philip spoke again. + +"He was actually married all the time!" + +"So it seems;" and Lorimer's face expressed something very like +contempt. "By Jove, Phil! he must have been an awful scoundrel!" + +"Don't let's say any more about him--he's dead!" and Philip +quickened his steps. "And what a horrible death!" + +"Horrible enough, indeed!" + +Again they were both silent. Mechanically they turned down towards +Pall Mall. + +"George," said Errington, with a strange awe in his tones, "it seems +to me to-day as if there were death in the air. I don't believe in +presentiments, but yet--yet I can-not help thinking--what if I +should find my Thelma--DEAD?" + +Lorimer turned very pale--a cold shiver ran through him, but he +endeavored to smile. + +"For God's sake, old fellow, don't think of anything so terrible! +Look here, you're hipped--no wonder! and you've got a long journey +before you. Come and have lunch. It's just two o'clock. Afterwards +we'll go to the Garrick and have a chat with Beau Lovelace--he's a +first-rate fellow for looking on the bright side of everything. Then +I'll see you off this afternoon at the Midland--what do you say?" + +Errington assented to this arrangement, and tried to shake off the +depression that had settled upon him, though dark forebodings passed +one after the other like clouds across his mind. He seemed to see +the Altenguard hills stretching drearily, white with frozen snow, +around the black Fjord; he pictured Thelma, broken-hearted, fancying +herself deserted, returning through the cold and darkness to the +lonely farm-house behind the now withered pines. Then he began to +think of the shell-cave where that other Thelma lay hidden in her +last deep sleep,--the wailing words of Sigurd came freshly back to +his ears, when the poor crazed lad had likened Thelma's thoughts to +his favorite flowers, the pansies--"One by one you will gather and +play with her thoughts as though they were these blossoms; your +burning hand will mar their color--they will wither and furl up and +die,--and you--what will you care? Nothing! No man ever cares for a +flower that is withered,--not even though his own hand slew it!" + +Had he been to blame? he mused, with a sorrowful weight at his +heart. Unintentionally, had he,--yes, he would put it plainly,--had +he neglected her, just a little? Had he not, with all his true and +passionate love for her, taken her beauty, her devotion, her +obedience too much for granted--too much as his right? And in these +latter months, when her health had made her weaker and more in need +of his tenderness, had he not, in a sudden desire for political fame +and worldly honor, left her too much alone, a prey to solitude and +the often morbid musings which solitude engenders? + +He began to blame himself heartily for the misunderstanding that had +arisen out of his share in Neville's unhappy secret. Neville had +been weak and timid,--he had shrunk nervously from avowing that the +notorious Violet Vere was actually the woman he had so faithfully +loved and mourned,--but he, Philip, ought not to have humored him in +these fastidious scruples--he ought to have confided everything to +Thelma. He remembered now that he had once or twice been uneasy lest +rumors of his frequent visits to Miss Vere might possibly reach his +wife's ears,--but, then, as his purpose was absolutely disinterested +and harmless, he did not dwell on this idea, but dismissed it, and +held his peace for Neville's sake, contenting himself with the +thought that, "If Thelma DID hear anything, she would never believe +a word against me." + +He could not quite see where his fault had been,--though a fault +there was somewhere, as he uneasily felt--and he would no doubt have +started indignantly had a small elf whispered in his ear the word +"CONCEIT." Yet that was the name of his failing--that and no other. +How many men, otherwise noble-hearted, are seriously, though often +unconsciously, burdened with this large parcel of blown-out Nothing! +Sir Philip did not appear to be conceited--he would have repelled +the accusation with astonishment,--not knowing that in his very +denial of the fault, the fault existed. He had never been truly +humbled but twice in his life,--once as he knelt to receive his +mother's dying benediction,--and again when he first loved Thelma, +and was uncertain whether his love could be returned by so fair and +pure a creature. With these two exceptions, all his experience had +tended to give him an excellent opinion of himself,--and that he +should possess one of the best and loveliest wives in the world, +seemed to him quite in keeping with the usual course of things. The +feeling that it was a sheer impossibility for her to ever believe a +word against him, rose out of this inward self-satisfaction--this +one flaw in his otherwise bright, honest, and lovable character--a +flaw of which he himself was not aware. Now, when for the third time +his fairy castle of perfect peace and pleasure seemed shaken to its +foundations,--when he again realized the uncertainty of life or +death, he felt bewildered and wretched. His chiefest pride was +centred in Thelma, and she--was gone! Again he reverted to the +miserable idea that, like a melancholy refrain, haunted him--"What +if I should find her DEAD!" + +Absorbed in painful reflections, he was a very silent companion for +Lorimer during the luncheon which they took at a quiet little +restaurant well known to the habitues of Pall Mall and Regent +Street. Lorimer himself had his own reasons for being equally +depressed and anxious,--for did he not love Thelma as much as even +her husband could?--nay, perhaps more, knowing his love was +hopeless. Not always does possession of the adored object strengthen +the adoration,--the rapturous dreams of an ideal passion have often +been known to surpass reality a thousandfold. So the two friends +exchanged but few words,--though they tried to converse cheerfully +on indifferent subjects, and failed in the attempt. They had nearly +finished their light repast, when a familiar voice saluted them. + +"It IS Errington,--I thocht I couldna be mistaken! How are ye both?" + +Sandy Macfarlane stood before them, unaltered, save that his scanty +beard had grown somewhat longer. They had seen nothing of him since +their trip to Norway, and they greeted him now with unaffected +heartiness, glad of the distraction his appearance afforded them. + +"Where do you hail from, Mac?" asked Lorimer, as he made the new- +comer sit down at their table. "We haven't heard of you for an age." + +"It IS a goodish bit of time," assented Macfarlane, "but better late +than never. I came up to London a week ago from Glasgie,--and my +heed has been in a whirl ever since. Eh, mon! but it's an awful +place!--maybe I'll get used to't after a wee whilie." + +"Are you going to settle here, then?" inquired Errington, "I thought +you intended to be a minister somewhere in Scotland?" + +Macfarlane smiled, and his eyes twinkled. + +"I hae altered ma opee-nions a bit," he said. "Ye see, ma aunt in +Glasgie's deed--" + +"I understand," laughed Lorimer. "You've come in for the old lady's +money?" + +"Puir body!" and Sandy shook his head gravely. "A few hours before +she died she tore up her will in a screamin' fury o' Christian +charity and forethought,--meanin' to mak anither in favor o' leavin' +a' her warld's trash to the Fund for Distributin' Bible Knowledge +among the Heathen--but she never had time to fulfill her intention. +She went off like a lamb,--and there being no will, her money fell +to me, as the nearest survivin' relative-eh! the puir thing!--if her +dees-imbodied spirit is anywhere aboot, she must be in a sair plight +to think I've got it, after a' her curses!" + +"How much?" asked Lorimer amused. + +"Oh, just a fair seventy thousand or so," answered Macfarlane +carelessly. + +"Well done, Mac!" said Errington, with a smile, endeavoring to +appear interested. "You're quite rich, then? I congratulate you!" + +"Riches are a snare," observed Macfarlane, sententiously, "a snare +and a decoy to both soul and body!" He laughed and rubbed his +hands,--then added with some eagerness, "I say, how is Lady +Errington?" + +"She's very well," answered Sir Philip hurriedly, exchanging a quick +look with Lorimer, which the latter at once understood. "She's away +on a visit just now. I'm going to join her this afternoon." + +"I'm sorry she's away," said Sandy, and he looked very disappointed; +"but I'll see her when she comes back. Will she be long absent?" + +"No, not long--a few days only"--and as Errington said this an +involuntary sigh escaped him. + +A few days only!--God grant it! But what--what if he should find her +DEAD? + +Macfarlane noticed the sadness of his expression, but prudently +forbore to make any remark upon it. He contented himself with +saying-- + +"Weel, ye've got a wife worth having--as I dare say ye know. I shall +be glad to pay my respects to her as soon as she returns. I've got +your address, Errington--will ye take mine?" + +And he handed him a small card on which was written in pencil the +number of a house in one of the lowest streets in the East-end of +London. Philip glanced at it with some surprise. + +"Is THIS where you live?" he asked with emphatic amazement. + +"Yes. It's just the cleanest tenement I could find in that +neighborhood. And the woman that keeps it is fairly respectable." + +"But with your money," remonstrated Lorimer, who also looked at the +card, "I rather wonder at your choice of abode. Why, my dear fellow, +do you KNOW what sort of a place it is?" + +A steadfast, earnest, THINKING look came into Macfarlane's deep-set, +grey eyes. + +"Yes, I do know, pairfectly," he said in answer to the question. +"It's a place where there's misery, starvation, and crime of all +sorts,--and there I am in the very midst of it--just where I want to +be. Ye see, I was meant to be a meenister--one of those douce, +cannie, comfortable bodies that drone in the pulpit about +predestination and original sin, and so forth a--sort, of palaver +that does no good to ony resonable creature--an' if I had followed +out this profession, I make nae doot that, with my aunt's seventy +thousand, I should be a vera comfortable, respectable, selfish type +of a man, who was decently embarked in an apparently important but +really useless career--" + +"Useless?" interrupted Lorimer archly. "I say, Mac, take care! A +minister of the Lord, USELESS!" + +"I'm thinkin' there are unco few meen-isters o' the Lord in this +warld," said Macfarlane musingly. "Maist o' them meen-ister to +themselves, an' care na a wheen mair for Christ than Buddha. I tell +ye, I was an altered man after we'd been to Norway--the auld pagan +set me thinkin' mony an' mony a time--for, ma certes! he's better +worthy respect than mony a so-called Christian. And as for his +daughter--the twa great blue eyes o'that lassie made me fair ashamed +o' mysel'. Why? Because I felt that as a meen-ister o' the +Established Kirk, I was bound to be a sort o' heep-ocrite,--ony +thinkin', reasonable man wi' a conscience canna be otherwise wi' +they folk,--and ye ken, Errington, there's something in your wife's +look that maks a body hesitate before tellin' a lee. Weel--what wi' +her face an' the auld bonde's talk, I reflectit that I couldna be a +meen-ister as meen-isters go,--an' that I must e'en follow oot the +Testament's teachings according to ma own way of thinkin'. First, I +fancied I'd rough it abroad as a meesionary--then I remembered the +savages at hame, an' decided to attend to them before onything else. +Then my aunt's siller came in handy--in short, I'm just gaun to live +on as wee a handfu' o' the filthy lucre as I can, an' lay oot the +rest on the heathens o' London. An' it's as well to do't while I'm +alive to see to't mysel'--for I've often observed that if ye leave +your warld's gear to the poor when ye're deed, just for the gude +reason that ye canna tak it to the grave wi' ye,--it'll melt in a +wonderfu' way through the hands o' the 'secretaries' an' +'distributors' o' the fund, till there's naething left for those ye +meant to benefit. Ye maunna think I'm gaun to do ony preachin' +business down at East-end,--there's too much o' that an' tract- +givin' already. The puir soul whose wee hoosie I've rented hadna +tasted bit nor sup for three days--till I came an' startled her into +a greetin' fit by takin'her rooms an' payin' her in advance--eh! +mon, ye'd have thought I was a saint frae heaven if ye'd heard her +blessin' me,--an' a gude curate had called on her just before and +had given her a tract to dine on. Ye see, I maun mak mysel' a FRIEND +to the folk first, before I can do them gude--I maun get to the +heart o' their troubles--an' troubles are plentiful in that +quarter,--I maun live among them, an' be ane o' them. I wad mind ye +that Christ Himsel' gave sympathy to begin with,--he did the +preachin' afterwards." + +"What a good fellow you are, Mac!" said Errington, suddenly seeing +his raw Scotch friend with the perverse accent, in quite a new and +heroic light. + +Macfarlane actually blushed. "Nonsense, not a bit o't!" he declared +quite nervously. "It's just pure selfishness, after a'--for I'm +simply enjoyin' mysel' the hale day long. Last nicht, I found a wee +cripple o' a laddie sittin' by himsel' in the gutter, munchin a +potato skin. I just took him,--he starin' an' blinkin' like an owl +at me,--and carried him into my room. There I gave him a plate o' +barley broth, an' finished him up wi' a hunk o' gingerbread. Ma +certes! Ye should ha' seen the rascal laugh. 'Twas better than +lookin' at a play from a ten-guinea box on the grand tier!" + +"By Jove, Sandy, you're a brick!" cried Lorimer, laughing to hide a +very different emotion--"I had no idea you were that sort of chap." + +"Nor had I," said Macfarlane quite simply--"I never fashed mysel' +wi' thinkin' o' ither folks troubles at a'--I never even took into +conseederation the meanin' o' the Testament teachings till--I saw +your leddy wife, Errington." He paused a moment, then added gravely- +-"Yes--and I've aften fancied she maun be a real live angel,--an' +I've sought always to turn my hand to something useful and worth the +doin',--ever since I met her." + +"I'll tell her so," said poor Philip, his heart aching for his lost +love as he spoke, though he smiled. "It will give her pleasure to +hear it." + +Macfarlane blushed again like any awkward schoolboy. + +"Oh, I dinna ken aboot that!" he said hurriedly. "She's just a grand +woman anyway." Then, bethinking himself of another subject, he +asked, "Have you heard o' the Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy lately?" + +Errington and Lorimer replied in the negative. + +Macfarlane laughed--his eyes twinkled. "It's evident ye never read +police reports," he said--"Talk o' misters,--he's a pretty specimen! +He's been hunted out o' his place in Yorkshire for carryin' on love- +affairs wi' the women o' his congregation. One day he locked himsel' +in the vestry wi' the new-married wife o' one o' his preencipal +supporters--an' he had a grand time of it--till the husband came an' +dragged him oot an' thrashed him soundly. Then he left the +neighborhood--an' just th' ither day--he turned up in Glasgie." + +Macfarlane paused and laughed again. + +"Well?" said Lorimer, with some interest--"Did you meet him there?" + +"That did I--but no to speak to him--he was for too weel lookit +after to need my services," and Macfarlane rubbed his great hands +together with an irrepressible chuckle. "There was a crowd o' +hootin' laddies round him, an' he was callin' on the heavens to bear +witness to his purity. His hat was off--an' he had a black eye--an' +a' his coat was covered wi' mud, an' a policeman was embracin' him +vera affectionately by th' arm. He was in charge for drunken, +disorderly, an' indecent conduct--an' the magistrate cam' down +pretty hard on him. The case proved to be exceptionally outrageous-- +so he's sentenced to a month's imprisonment an' hard labor. Hard +labor! Eh, mon! but that's fine! Fancy him at work--at real work for +the first time in a' his days! Gude Lord! I can see him at it!" + +"So he's come to that!" and Errington shrugged his shoulders with +weary contempt. "I thought he would. His career as a minister is +ended, that's one comfort!" + +"Don't be too sure o' that!" said Sandy cautiously. "There's always +America, ye ken. He can mak' a holy martyr o' himsel' there! He may +gain as muckle a reputation as Henry Ward Beecher--ye cann ever tell +what may happen--'tis a queer warld!" + +"Queer, indeed!" assented Lorimer as they all rose and left the +restaurant together. "If our present existence is the result of a +fortuitous conglomeration of atoms,--I think the atoms ought to have +been more careful what they were about, that's all I can say!" + +They reached the open street, where Macfarlane shook hands and went +his way, promising to call on Errington as soon as Thelma should be +again at home. + +"He's turned out quite a fine fellow," said Lorimer, when be had +gone. "I should never have thought he had so much in him. He has +become a philanthropist." + +"I fancy he's better than an ordinary philanthropist," replied +Philip. "Philanthropists often talk a great deal and do nothing." + +"Like members of Parliament," suggested Lorimer, with a smile. + +"Exactly so. By-the-by--I've resigned my candidateship." + +"Resigned? Why?" + +"Oh, I'm sick of the thing! One has to be such a humbug to secure +one's votes. I had a wretched time yesterday,--speechifying and +trying to rouse up clodhoppers to the interests of their country,-- +and all the time my darling at home was alone, and breaking her +heart about me! By Jove I if I'd only known! When I came back this +morning to all this misery--I told Neville to send in my +resignation. I repeated the same thing to him the last thing before +I left the house." + +"But you might have waited a day or two," said Lorimer wonderingly. +"You're such a fellow of impulse, Phil--" + +"Well, I can't help it. I'm tired of politics. I began with a will, +fancying that every member of the house had his country's interests +at heart,--not a bit of it! They're all for themselves--most of +them, at any rate--they're not even sincere in their efforts to do +good to the population. And it's all very well to stick up for the +aristocracy; but why, in Heaven's name, can't some of the wealthiest +among them do as much as our old Mac is doing, for the outcast and +miserable poor? I see some real usefulness and good in HIS work, and +I'll help him in it with a will--when--when Thelma comes back." + +Thus talking, the two friends reached the Garrick Club, where they +found Beau Lovelace in the reading-room, turning over some new books +with the curious smiling air of one who believes there can be +nothing original under the sun, and that all literature is mere +repetition. He greeted them cheerfully. + +"Come out of here," he said. "Come into a place where we can talk. +There's an old fellow over there who's ready to murder any member +who even whispers. We won't excite his angry passions. You know +we're all literature-mongers here,--we've each got our own little +particular stall where we sort our goods--our mouldy oranges, sour +apples, and indigestible nuts,--and we polish them up to look +tempting to the public. It's a great business, and we can't bear to +be looked at while we're turning our apples with the best side +outwards, and boiling our oranges to make them swell and seem big! +We like to do our humbug in silence and alone." + +He led the way into the smoking-room--and there heard with much +surprise and a great deal of concern the story of Thelma's flight. + +"Ingenuous boy!" he said kindly, clapping Philip on the shoulder. +"How could you be such a fool as to think that repeated visits to +Violet Vere, no matter on what business, would not bring the dogs of +scandal yelping about your heels! I wonder you didn't see how you +were compromising yourself!" + +"He never told ME a word about it," interposed Lorimer, "or else I +should have given him a bit of my mind on the subject." + +"Of course!" agreed Lovelace. "And--excuse me--why the devil didn't +you let your secretary manage his domestic squabbles by himself?" + +"He's very much broken down," said Errington. "A hopeless, frail, +disappointed man. I thought I could serve him--" + +"I see!" and Beau's eyes were bent on him with a very friendly look. +"You're a first-rate fellow, Errington,--but you shouldn't fly off +so readily on the rapid wings of impulse. Now I suppose you want to +shoot Lennox--that can't be done--not in England at any rate." + +"It can't be done at all, anywhere," said Lorimer gravely. "He's +dead." + +Beau Lovelace started back in amazement. "Dead! You don't say so! +Why, he was dining last night at the Criterion--I saw him there." + +Briefly they related the sudden accident that had occurred, and +described its fatal result. + +"He died horribly!" said Philip in a low voice. "I haven't got over +it yet. That evil, tortured face of his haunts me." + +Lovelace was only slightly shocked. He had known Lennox's life too +well, and had despised it too thoroughly, to feel much regret now it +was thus abruptly ended. + +"Rather an unpleasant exit for such a fellow," he remarked. "Not +aesthetic at all. And so you were going to castigate him?" + +"Look!" and Philip showed him the horsewhip; "I've been carrying +this thing about all day,--I wish I could drop it in the streets; +but if I did, some one would be sure to pick it up and return it to +me." + +"If it were a purse containing bank-notes you could drop it with the +positive certainty of never seeing it again," laughed Beau. "Here, +hand it over!" and he possessed himself of it. "I'll keep it till +you come back. You leave for Norway to-night, then?" + +"Yes. If I can. But it's the winter season--and there'll be all +manner of difficulties. I'm afraid it's no easy matter to reach the +Altenfjord at this time of year." + +"Why not use your yacht, and be independent of obstacles?" suggested +Lovelace. + +"She's under repairs, worse luck!" sighed Philip despondingly. "She +won't be in sailing condition for another month. No--I must take my +chance--that's all. It's possible I may overtake Thelma at Hull-- +that's my great hope." + +"Well, don't be down in the mouth about it, my boy!" said Beau +sympathetically. "It'll all come right, depend upon it! Your wife's +a sweet, gentle, noble creature,--and when once she knows all about +the miserable mistake that has arisen, I don't know which will be +greatest, her happiness or her penitence, for having misunderstood +the position. Now let's have some coffee." + +He ordered this refreshment from a passing waiter, and as he did so, +a gentleman, with hands clasped behind his back, and a suave smile +on his countenance, bowed to him with marked and peculiar courtesy +as he sauntered on his way through the room. Beau returned the +salute with equal politeness. + +"That's Whipper," he explained with a smile, when the gentleman was +out of earshot. "The best and most generous of men! He's a critic-- +all critics are large-minded and generous, we know,--but he happens +to be remarkably so. He did me the kindest turn I ever had in my +life. When my first book came out, he fell upon it tooth and claw, +mangled it, tore it to ribbons, metaphorically speaking,--and waved +the fragments mockingly in the eyes of the public. From that day my +name was made--my writings sold off with delightful rapidity, and +words can never tell how I blessed, and how I still bless, Whipper! +He always pitches into me--that's what's so good of him! We're +awfully polite to each other, as you observe--and what is so +perfectly charming is that he's quite unconscious how much he's +helped me along! He's really a first-rate fellow. But I haven't yet +attained the summit of my ambition,"--and here Lovelace broke off +with a sparkle of fun in his clear steel-grey eyes. + +"Why, what else do you want?" asked Lorimer laughing. + +"I want," returned Beau solemnly, "I want to be jeered at by Punch! +I want Punch to make mouths at me, and give me the benefit of his +inimitable squeak and gibber. No author's fame is quite secure till +dear old Punch has abused him. Abuse is the thing nowadays, you +know. Heaven forbid that I should be praised by Punch. That would be +frightfully unfortunate!" + +Here the coffee arrived, and Lovelace dispensed it to his friends, +talking gaily the while in an effort to distract Errington from his +gloomy thoughts. + +"I've just been informed on respectable authority, that Walt Whitman +is the new Socrates," he said laughingly. "I felt rather stunned at +the moment but I've got over it now. Oh, this deliciously mad +London! what a gigantic Colney Hatch it is for the crazed folk of +the world to air their follies in! That any reasonable Englishmen +with such names as Shakespeare, Byron, Keats, and Shelley, to keep +the glory of their country warm, should for one moment consider Walt +Whitman a POET! Ye gods! Where are your thunderbolts!" + +"He's an American, isn't he?" asked Errington. + +"He is, my dear boy! An American whom the sensible portion of +America rejects. We, therefore,--out of opposition,--take him up. +His chief recommendation is that he writes blatantly concerning +commonplaces,--regardless of music or rhythm. Here's a bit of him +concerning the taming of oxen. He says the tamer lives in a" + + "'Placid pastoral region. + There they bring him the three-year-olds and the four-year-olds + to break them,-- + Some are such beautiful animals, so lofty looking,--some are + buff-colored, some mottled, one has a white line running + along his back, some are brindled, + Some have wide flaring horns (a good sign!) look you! the bright + hides + See the two with stars on their foreheads--see the round bodies + and broad backs + How straight and square they stand on their legs--'" + +"Stop, stop!" cried Lorimer, putting his hands to his ears. "This is +a practical joke, Beau! No one would call that jargon poetry!" + +"Oh! wouldn't they though!" exclaimed Lovelace. "Let some critic of +reputation once start the idea, and you'll have the good London folk +who won't bother to read him for themselves, declaring him as fine +as Shakespeare. The dear English muttons! fine Southdowns! fleecy +baa-lambs! once let the Press-bell tinkle loudly enough across the +fields of literature, and they'll follow, bleating sweetly in any +direction! The sharpest heads in our big metropolis are those who +know this, and who act accordingly." + +"Then why don't YOU act accordingly?" asked Errington, with a faint +smile. + +"Oh, I? I can't! I never asked a favor from the Press in my life-- +but its little bell has tinkled for me all the same, and a few of +the muttons follow, but not all. Are you off?" this, as they rose to +take their leave. "Well, Errington, old fellow," and he shook hands +warmly, "a pleasant journey to you, and a happy return home! My best +regards to your wife. Lorimer, have you settled whether you'll go +with me to Italy? I start the day after to-morrow." + +Lorimer hesitated--then said, "All right! My mother's delighted at +the idea,--yes, Beau! we'll come. Only I hope we shan't bore you." + +"Bore me! you know me better than that," and he accompanied them out +of the smoking-room into the hall, while Errington, a little +surprised at this sudden arrangement, observed-- + +"Why, George--I thought you'd be here when we came back from Norway-- +to--to welcome Thelma, you know!" + +George laughed. "My dear boy, I shan't be wanted! Just let me know +how everything goes on. You--you see, I'm in duty bound to take my +mother out of London in winter." + +"Just so!" agreed Lovelace, who had watched him narrowly while he +spoke. "Don't grudge the old lady her southern sunshine. Errington! +Lorimer wants brushing up a bit too--he looks seedy. Then I shall +consider it settled--the day after to-morrow, we meet at Charing +Cross--morning tidal express, of course,--never go by night service +across the Channel if you can help it." + +Again they shook hands and parted. + +"Best thing that young fellow can do!" thought Lovelace as he +returned to the Club reading-room. "The sooner he gets out of this, +into new scenes the better,--he's breaking his heart over the +beautiful Thelma. By Jove! the boy's eyes looked like those of a +shot animal whenever her name was mentioned. He's rather badly hit!" + +He sat down and began to meditate. "What can I do for him, I +wonder?" he thought. "Nothing, I suppose. A love of that sort can't +be remedied. It's a pity--a great pity! And I don't know any woman +likely to make a counter-impression on him. He'd never put up with +an Italian beauty"--he paused in his reflections, and the color +flushed his broad, handsome brow, as the dazzling vision of a sweet, +piquant face with liquid dark eyes and rippling masses of rich brown +hair came flitting before him--"unless he saw Angela," he murmured +to himself softly,--"and he will not see her,--besides, Angela loves +ME!" + +And after this, his meditations seemed to be particularly pleasant, +to judge from the expression of his features. Beau was by no means +ignorant of the tender passion--he had his own little romance, as +beautiful and bright as a summer day--but he had resolved that +London, with its love of gossip, its scandal, and society papers,-- +London, that on account of his popularity as a writer, watched his +movements and chronicled his doings in the most authoritative and +incorrect manner,--London should have no chance of penetrating into +the secret of his private life. And so far he had succeeded--and was +likely still to succeed. + +Meanwhile, as he still sat in blissful reverie, pretending to read a +newspaper, though his thoughts were far away from it, Errington and +Lorimer arrived at the Midland Station. Britta was already there +with the luggage,--she was excited and pleased--her spirits had +risen at the prospect of seeing her mistress soon again,--possibly, +she thought gladly, they might find her at Hull,--they might not +have to go to Norway at all. The train came up to the platform--the +tickets were taken,--and Sir Philip, with Britta, entered--a first- +class compartment, while Lorimer stood outside leaning with folded +arms on the carriage-window, talking cheerfully. + +"You'll find her all right, Phil, I'm positive!" he said. "I think +it's very probable she has been compelled to remain at Hull,--and +even at the worst, Britta can guide you all over Norway, if +necessary. Nothing will daunt HER!" + +And he nodded kindly to the little maid who had regained her rosy +color and the sparkle of her eyes in the eagerness she felt to +rejoin her beloved "Froken." The engine-whistle gave a warning +shriek--Philip leaned out and pressed his friend's hand warmly. + +"Good-bye, old fellow! I'll write to you in Italy." + +"All right--mind you do! And I say--give my love to Thelma!" + +Philip smiled and promised. The train began to move,--slowly at +first, then more quickly, till with clattering uproar and puffing +clouds of white steam, it rushed forth from the station, winding +through the arches like a black snake, till it had twisted itself +rapidly out of sight. Lorimer, left alone, looked after it +wistfully, with a heavy weight of unuttered love and sorrow at his +heart, and as he at last turned away, those haunting words that he +had heard under the pines at the Altenfjord recurred again and again +to his memory--the words uttered by the distraught Sigurd--and how +true they were, he thought! how desperately, cruelly true! + +"Good things may come for others--but for YOU, the heavens are +empty!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +"Honor is an old-world thing, but it smells sweet to those in whose +hand it is strong."--OUIDA. + + +Disappointment upon disappointment awaited Errington at Hull. +Unfortunately, neither he nor Britta knew of the existence of the +good Norwegian innkeeper, Friedhof, who had assisted Thelma in her +flight--and all their persistent and anxious inquiries elicited no +news of her. Moreover, there was no boat of any kind leaving +immediately for Norway--not even a whaler or fishing-smack. In a +week's time,--possibly later,--there would be a steamer starting for +Christiansund, and for this, Errington, though almost mad with +impatience, was forced to wait. And in the meantime, he roamed about +the streets of Hull, looking eagerly at every fair-haired woman who +passed him, and always hoping that Thelma herself would suddenly +meet him face to face, and put her hands in his. He wrote to Neville +and told him to send on any letters that might arrive for him, and +by every post he waited anxiously for one from Thelma but none came. +To relieve his mind a little, he scribbled a long letter to her, +explaining everything, telling her how ardently he loved and +worshipped her--how he was on his way to join her at the +Altenfjord,--and ending by the most passionate vows of unchanging +love and fidelity. He was somewhat soothed when he had done this-- +though he did not realize the fact that in all probability he +himself might arrive before the letter. The slow, miserable days +went on--the week was completed--the steamer for Christiansund +started at last,--and, after a terribly stormy passage, he and the +faithful Britta were landed there. + +On arrival, he learned that a vessel bound for the North Cape had +left on the previous day--there would not be another for a +fortnight. Cursing his ill-luck, he resolved to reach the Altenfjord +by land, and began to make arrangements accordingly. Those who knew +the country well endeavored to dissuade him from this desperate +project--the further north, the greater danger, they told him,-- +moreover, the weather was, even for Norway, exceptionally trying. +Snow lay heavily over all the country he would have to traverse--the +only means of conveyance was by carriole or pulkha--the latter a +sort of sledge used by the Laplanders, made in the form of a boat, +and generally drawn by reindeer. The capabilities of the carriole +would be exhausted as soon as the snow-covered regions were reached- +-and to manage a pulkha successfully, required special skill of no +ordinary kind. But the courageous little Britta made short work of +all these difficulties--she could drive a pulkha,--she knew how to +manage reindeer,--she entertained not the slightest doubt of being +able to overcome all the obstacles on the way. At the same time, she +frankly told Sir Philip that the journey would be a long one, +perhaps occupying several days--that they would have to rest at +different farms or stations on the road, and put up with hard fare-- +that the cold would be intense,--that often they would find it +difficult to get relays of the required reindeer,--and that it might +perhaps be wiser to wait for the next boat going to the North Cape. + +But Errington would hear of no more delays--each hour that passed +filled him with fresh anxieties--and once in Norway he could not +rest. The idea that Thelma might be ill--dying--or dead--gained on +him with redoubled force,--and his fears easily communicating +themselves to Britta, who was to the full as impatient as he, the +two made up their minds, and providing every necessary for the +journey they could think of, they started for the far sunless North, +through a white, frozen land, which grew whiter and more silent the +further they went,--even as the brooding sky above them grew darker +and darker. The aurora borealis flashed its brilliant shafts of +color against the sable breast of heaven,--the tall pines, stripped +bare, every branch thick with snow and dropping icicles, stood,-- +pale ghosts of the forest,--shedding frozen tears--the moon, more +like steel than silver, shone frostily cold, her light seeming to +deepen rather than soften the dreariness of the land--and on--on-- +on--they went, Britta enveloped to the chin in furs, steadily +driving the strange elfin-looking steeds with their horned heads +casting long distorted shadows on the white ground,--and Philip +beside her, urging her on with feverish impatience, while he +listened to the smooth trot of the reindeer,--the tinkle of the +bells on their harness, and the hiss of the sledge across the +sparkling snow. + +Meanwhile, as he thus pursued his long and difficult journey, rumor +was very busy with his name in London. Everybody--that is, everybody +worth consideration in the circle of the "Upper Ten"--was talking +about him,--shrugging their shoulders, lifting their eyebrows and +smiling knowingly, whenever he was mentioned. He became more known +in one day than if he had served his country's interests in +Parliament for years. + +On the very morning after he had left the metropolis en route for +Norway, that admirably conducted society journal, the Snake, +appeared,--and of course, had its usual amount of eager purchasers, +anxious to see the latest bit of aristocratic scandal. Often these +good folks were severely disappointed--the Snake was sometimes so +frightfully dull, that it had actually nothing to say against +anybody--then, naturally, it was not worth buying. But this time it +was really interesting--it knocked down--or tried to knock down--at +one blow, a formerly spotless reputation--and "really--really!" said +the Upper Ten, "it was dreadful, but of course it was to be +expected! Those quiet, seemingly virtuous persons are always the +worst when you come to know them, yet who would have thought it!" +And society read the assailing paragraph, and rolled it in its rank +mouth, like a bon-bon, enjoying its flavor. It ran as follows:-- + +"We hear on excellent authority that the Norwegian 'beauty,' Lady +Bruce-Errington, wife of Sir Philip Bruce-Errington, is about to sue +for a divorce on the ground of infidelity. The offending dama in the +question is an admired actress, well-known to the frequenters of the +Brilliant Theatre. But there are always two sides to these affairs, +and it is rumored that the fair Norwegian (who before her marriage, +we understand, was a great adept in the art of milking reindeer on +the shores of her native Fjord) has private reasons of her own for +desiring the divorce, not altogether in keeping with her stated +reasons or her apparent reserve. We are, however, always on the side +of the fair sex, and, as the faithless husband has made no secret of +his new liaison, we do not hesitate to at once pronounce in the +lady's favor. The case is likely to prove interesting to believers +in wedded happiness, combined with the strictest moral and religious +sentiments." + +Quite by accident this piece of would-be "smartness" was seen by +Beau Lovelace. He had a wholesome contempt for the Snake--and all +its class,--he would never have looked at it, or known of the +paragraph, had not a friend of his at the Garrick pointed it out to +him with half a smile and half a sneer. + +"It's a damned lie!" said Beau briefly. + +"That remains to be proved!" answered his friend, and went away +laughing. + +Beau read it over and over again, his blood firing with honest +indignation. Thelma! Thelma--that pure white lily of womanhood,--was +she to have her stainless life blurred by the trail of such a thing +as the Snake?--and was Errington's honor to be attainted in his +absence, and he condemned without a word uttered in his defence? + +"Detestable blackguard!" muttered Lovelace, reverting in his mind to +the editor of the journal in question. "What's his name I wonder?" +He searched and found it at the top of a column-"Sole Editor and +Proprietor, C. Snawley-Grubbs, to whom all checks and post-office +orders should be made payable. The Editor cannot be responsible for +the return of rejected MSS." + +Beau noted the name, and wrote the address of the office in his +pocket-book, smiling curiously to himself the while. + +"I'm almost glad Errington's out of the way," he said half aloud. +"He shan't see this thing if I can help it, though I dare say some +particularly affectionate friend will send it to him, carefully +marked. At any rate, he needn't know it just yet--and as for +Lorimer--shall I tell him! No, I won't. I'll have the game all to +myself--and--by Jove! how I SHALL enjoy it!" + +An hour later he stood in the office of the Snake, courteously +inquiring for Mr. Snawley-Grubbs. Apparently he had come on +horseback, for he held a riding-whip in his hand,--the very whip +Errington had left with him the previous day. The inky, dirty, +towzle-headed boy who presided in solitary grandeur over the Snake's +dingy premises, stared at him inquiringly,--visitors of his +distinguished appearance and manner being rather uncommon. Those who +usually had business with the great Grubbs were of a different type +altogether,--some of them discarded valets or footmen, who came to +gain half a crown or five shillings by offering information as to +the doings of their late masters and mistresses,--shabby "supers" +from the theatres, who had secured the last bit of scandal +concerning some celebrated stage or professional "beauty"--sporting +men and turf gamblers of the lowest class,--unsuccessful dramatists +and small verse writers--these, with now and then a few "ladies"-- +ladies of the bar-room, ballet, and demi-monde, were the sort, of +persons who daily sought private converse with Grubbs--and Beau +Lovelace, with his massive head, fine muscular figure, keen eyes, +and self-assertive mien, was quite a novel specimen of manhood for +the wondering observation of the office-boy, who scrambled off his +high chair with haste and something of respect as he said-- + +"What name, sir, please?" + +"Beaufort Lovelace," said the gentleman, with a bland smile. "Here +is my card. Ask Mr. Grubbs whether he can see me for a few minutes. +If he is engaged--editors generally are engaged--tell him I'll +wait." + +The boy went off in a greater hurry than ever. The name of Lovelace +was quite familiar to him--he knew him, not as a distinguished +novelist, but as "'im who makes such a precious lot of money." And +he was breathless with excitement; when he reached the small +editorial chamber at the top of a dark, narrow flight of stairs, +wherein sat the autocratic Snawley, smiling suavely over a heap of +letters and disordered MSS. He glanced at the card which his ink- +smeared attendant presented him. + +"Ah, indeed!" he said condescendingly. "Lovelace--Lovelace? Oh yes-- +I suppose it must be the novelist of that name--yes!--show him up." + +Shown up he was accordingly. He entered the room with a firm tread, +and closed the door behind him! + +"How do you do, my dear sir!" exclaimed Grubbs warmly. "You are well +known to me by reputation! I am charmed--delighted to make the +personal acquaintance of one who is--yes--let me say, who is a +brother in literature! Sit down, I beg of you!" + +And he waved his hand towards a chair, thereby displaying the great +rings that glittered on his podgy fingers. + +Beau, however, did not seat himself--he only smiled very coldly and +contemptuously. + +"We can discuss the fraternal nature of our relationship +afterwards," he said satirically, "Business first. Pray, sir,"--here +he drew from his pocket the last number of the Snake--"are you the +writer of this paragraph?" + +He pointed to it, as he flattened the journal and laid it in front +of the editor on the desk. Mr. Snawley-Grubbs glanced at it and +smiled unconcernedly. + +"No I am not. But I happen to know it is perfectly correct. I +received the information on the highest--the very highest and most +credible authority." + +"Indeed!" and Beau's lip curled haughtily, while his hand clenched +the riding-whip more firmly. "Then allow me to tell you, sir, that +it is utterly false in every particular--moreover--that it is a +gross libel,--published with deliberate intent to injure those whom +it presumes to mention,--and that, whoever wrote it,--you, sir, you +alone are responsible for a most mischievous, scandalous, and +damnable lie!" + +Mr. Grubbs was in no wise disconcerted. Honest indignation honestly +expressed, always amused him--he was amused now. + +"You're unduly excited, Mr. Lovelace," he said with a little laugh. +"Permit me to remark that your language is rather extraordinary-- +quite too strong under the circumstances! However, you're a +privileged person--genius is always a little mad, or shall we say,-- +eccentric?--I suppose you are a friend of Sir Philip Errington, and +you naturally feel hurt--yes--yes, I quite understand! But the +scourge of the press--the wholesome, purifying scourge, cannot be +withheld out of consideration for private or personal feelings. No-- +no! There's a higher duty--the duty we owe to the public!" + +"I tell you again," repeated Lovelace firmly--"the whole thing is a +lie. Will you apologize?" + +Mr. Grubbs threw himself back in his chair and laughed aloud. + +"Apologize? My dear sir, you must be dreaming! Apologize? Certainly +not! I cannot retract the statements I have made--and I firmly +believe them to be true. And though there is a saying, 'the greater +the truth the greater the libel,' I'm ready, sir, and, always have +been ready, to sacrifice myself to the cause of truth. Truth, truth +for ever! Tell the truth and shame the devil! You are at liberty to +inform Sir Philip Errington from me, that as it is my object--a +laudable and praiseworthy one, too, I think--to show up the awful +immorality now reigning in our upper classes, I do not regret in the +least the insertion of the paragraph in question. If it only makes +him ashamed of his vices, I shall have done a good deed, and served +the interests of society at large. At the same time, if he wishes to +bring an action for libel--" + +"You dog!" exclaimed Lovelace fiercely, approaching him with such a +sudden rapid stride that the astonished editor sprang up and +barricaded himself behind his own chair. "You hope for that, do you? +An action for libel! nothing would please you better! To bring your +scandalous printed trash into notoriety,--to hear your name shouted +by dirty hawkers and newsboys--to be sentenced as a first-class +misdemenent; ah, no such luck for you! I know the tricks of your +vile trade! There are other ways of dealing with a vulgar bully and +coward!" + +And before the startled Grubbs could realize his position, Lovelace +closed with him, beat him under, and struck the horsewhip smartly +cross his back and shoulders. He uttered a yell of pain and fury, +and strove vigorously to defend himself, but, owing to his obesity, +his muscles were weak and flabby, and he was powerless against the +activity and strength of his opponent. Lash after lash descended +regularly and mercilessly--his cries, which gradually became like +the roarings of a bull of Basban, were unheard, as the office-boy +below, profiting by a few idle moments, had run across the street to +buy some chestnuts at a stall he particularly patronized. Beau +thrashed on with increasing enjoyment--Grubbs resisted him less and +less, till finally he slipped feebly down on the floor and grovelled +there, gasping and groaning. Beau gave him one or two more artistic +cuts, and stood above him, with the serene, triumphant smile of a +successful athlete. Suddenly a loud peal of laughter echoed from the +doorway,--a woman stood there, richly dressed in silk and fur, with +diamonds sparkling in her ears and diamonds clasping the long boa at +her throat. It was Violet Vere. + +"Why, Snawley!" she cried with cheerful familiarity. "How are you? +All broken, and no one to pick up the pieces! Serve you right! Got +it at last, eh? Don't get up! You look so comfortable!" + +"Bodily assault," gasped Grubbs. "I'll summons--call the police-- +call," his voice died away in inarticulate gurglings, and raising +himself, he sat up on the floor in a sufficiently abject and +ludicrous posture, wiping the tears of pain from his eyes. Beau +looked at the female intruder and recognized her at once. He saluted +her with cold courtesy, and turned again to Grubbs. + +"WILL you apologize?" + +"No--I--I WON'T!" + +Beau made another threatening movement--Miss Vere interposed. + +"Stop a bit," she said, regarding him with her insolent eyes, in +which lurked, however, an approving smile. "I don't know who you +are, but you seem a fighting man! Don't go at him again till I've +had a word. I say, Grubbs! you've been hitting at me in your trashy +paper." + +Grubbs still sat on the floor groaning. + +"You must eat those words," went on the Vere calmly. "Eat 'em up +with sauce for dinner. The 'admired actress well known at the +Brilliant,' has nothing to do with the Bruce-Errington man,--not +she! He's a duffer, a regular stiff one--no go about him anyhow. And +what the deuce do you mean by calling me an offending dama. Keep +your oaths to yourself, will you?" + +Beau Lovelace was amused. Grubbs turned his watering eye from one to +the other in wretched perplexity. He made an effort to stand up and +succeeded. + +"I'll have you arrested, sir!" he exclaimed shaking his fists at +Beau, and quivering with passion, "on a charge of bodily assault-- +shameful bodily assault, sir!" + +"All right!" returned Beau coolly. "If I were fined a hundred pounds +for it, I should think it cheap for the luxury of thrashing such a +hound!" + +Grubbs quaked at the determined attitude and threatening eye of his +assailant, and turned for relief to Miss Vere whose smile, however, +was not sympathetic. + +"You'd better cave in!" she remarked airily. "You've got the worst +of it, you know!" + +She had long been on confidential terms with the Snake proprietor, +and she spoke to him now with the candor of an old friend. + +"Dear me, what do you expect of me!" he almost whimpered. "I'm not +to blame! The paragraph was inserted without my knowledge by my sub- +editor--he's away just now, and--there! why?" he cried with sudden +defiance, "why don't you ask Sir Francis Lennox about it? He wrote +the whole thing." + +"Well, he's dead," said Miss Vere with the utmost coolness. "So it +wouldn't be much use asking HIM. HE can't answer,--you'll have to +answer for him." + +"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Mr. Grubbs. "He can't be dead!" + +"Oh, yes, he can, and he IS," retorted Violet. "And a good job too! +He was knocked over by a train at Charing Cross. You'll see it in +to-day's paper, if you take the trouble to look. And mind you +contradict all that stuff about me in your next number--do you hear? +I'm going to America with a Duke next month, and I can't afford to +have my reputation injured. And I won't be called a 'dama' for any +penny-a-liner living." She paused, and again broke out laughing, +"Poor old Snawley! You do look so sore! Ta-ta!" And she moved +towards the door. Lovelace, always courteous, opened it for her. She +raised her hard, bright eyes, and smiled. + +"Thanks! Hope I shall see you again some day!" + +"You are very good!" responded Beau gravely. + +Either his tone, which was one chill indifference, or some thing in +his look, irritated her suddenly--for a rash of hot color crimsoned +her face, and she bit her lips vexedly as she descended the office- +stairs. + +"He's one of your high-and-mighty sort," she thought disdainfully, +as she entered her cosy brougham and was driven away. "Quite too +awfully moral!" She pulled a large, elaborately cut glass scent- +bottle out of the pocket of her cloak, and, unscrewing the gold top, +applied it, not to her nose but her mouth. It contained neat Cognac- +-and she drank a goodly gulp of it with evident relish, swallowing a +scented bon-bon immediately afterwards to take away the suspicious +odor. "Yes--quite too awfully moral!" she repeated with a grin. "Not +in my line at all! Lord! It's lucky there are not many such fellows +about, or what would become of ME? A precious poor business I should +make of it!" + +Meanwhile, Lovelace, left alone again with Mr. Grubbs, reiterated +his demand for an apology. Grubbs made a rush for the door, as soon +as Miss Vere had gone, with the full intention of summoning the +police, but Beau coolly placed his back against it with resolute +firmness, and flourished his whip defiantly. + +"Come, sir, none of this nonsense!" he said sternly. "I don't mean +to leave this spot till I have satisfaction. If Sir Francis Lennox +wrote that scandalous paragraph the greater rascal he,--and the more +shame to you for inserting it.--You, who make it your business to +know all the dirty alleys and dark corners of life, must have known +HIS character pretty thoroughly. There's not the slightest excuse +for you. Will you apologize?--and retract every word of that +paragraph, in your next issue?" + +Grubbs, breathless with rage and fear, glared at him, but made no +answer. + +"If you refuse to comply," went on Beau deliberately, balancing the +horsewhip lightly on his hand, "I'll just tell you what the +consequences will be. I've thrashed you once--and I'll thrash you +again. I have only to give the cue to several worthy fellows of my +acquaintance, who don't care how much they pay for their fun, and +each of them in turn will thrash you. As for an action for libel, +don't expect it--but I swear there shan't be a safe corner in London +for you. If, however, you publish next week a full retraction of +your printed lie--why, then I--shall be only too happy to forget +that such an individual as yourself burdens this planet. There are +the two alternatives--choose!" + +Grubbs hesitated, but coward fear made him quail the prospect of +unlimited thrashings. + +"Very well," he said sullenly. "Write what you want put in--I'll +attend to it--I don't mind obliging Miss Vere. But all the same, +I'll have YOU arrested!" + +Beau laughed. "Do so by all means!" he said gaily. "I'll leave my +address with you!" He wrote rapidly a few lines on a piece of paper +to the following effect-- + +"We have to entirely contradict a statement we made last week +respecting a supposed forthcoming divorce case in which Sir Philip +Bruce-Errington was seriously implicated. There was no truth +whatever in the statement, and we herewith apologize most humbly and +heartily for having inadvertently given credence to a rumor which is +now proved to be utterly false and without the slightest shadow of a +foundation." + +He handed this to Grubbs. + +"Insert that word for word, at the head of your paragraphs," he +said, "and you'll hear no more of me, unless you give me fresh +provocation. And I advise you to think twice before you have me +arrested--for I'll defend my own case, and--ruin you! I'm rather a +dangerous customer to have much to do with! However, you've got my +card--you know where to find me if you want me. Only you'd better +send after me to-night if you do--to-morrow I may be absent." + +He smiled, and drew on his gloves leisurely, eyeing meanwhile the +discomfited editor, who was furtively rubbing his shoulder where the +lash had stung it somewhat severely. + +"I'm exceedingly glad I've hurt you, Mr. Grubbs," he said blandly. +"And the next time you want to call me your brother in literature, +pray reflect on the manner in which my fraternal affection displayed +itself! GOOD morning!" + +And he took his departure with a quiet step and serene manner, +leaving Snawley-Grubbs to his own meditations, which were far from +agreeable. He was not ignorant of the influence Beau Lovelace +possessed, both on the press and in society--he was a general +favorite,--a man whose opinions were quoted, and whose authority was +accepted everywhere. If he appeared to answer a charge of assault +against Grubbs, and defended his own case, he certainly would have +the best of it. He might--he would have to pay a fine, but what did +he care for that? He would hold up the Snake and its proprietor to +the utmost ridicule and opprobrium--his brilliant satire and humor +would carry all before it--and he, Snawley-Grubbs, would be still +more utterly routed and humiliated. Weighing all these +considerations carefully in his mind, the shrinking editor decided +to sit down under his horsewhipping in silence and resignation. + +It was not a very lofty mode of action--still, it was the safest. Of +course Violet Vere would spread the story all through HER particular +"set"--it made him furious to think of this yet there was no help +for it. He would play the martyr, he thought--the martyr to the +cause of truth,--the injured innocent entrapped by false +information--he might possibly gain new supporters and sympathizers +in this way if he played his cards carefully. He turned to the daily +paper, and saw there chronicled the death of Sir Francis Lennox. It +was true, then. Well! he was not at all affected by it--he merely +committed the dead man in the briefest and strongest language to the +very lowest of those low and sulphurous regions over which Satan is +supposed to have full sway. Not a soul regretted Sir Francis--not +even the Vere, whom he had kept and surrounded with every luxury for +five years. Only one person, a fair, weary faced woman away in +Germany shed a few tears over the lawyer's black-boardered letter +that announced his death to her--and this was the deserted wife,-- +who had once loved him. Lady Winsleigh had heard the news,--she +shuddered and turned very pale when her husband gently and almost +pityingly told her of the sudden and unprepared end that had +overtaken her quondam admirer--but she said nothing. She was +presiding at the breakfast-table for the first time in many years-- +she looked somewhat sad and listless, yet lovelier so than in all +the usual pride and assertive arrogance of her beauty. Lord +Winsleigh read aloud the brief account of the accident in the paper- +-she listened dreamily, still mute. He watched her with yearning +eyes. + +"An awful death for such a man, Clara!" he said at last in a low +tone. + +She dared not look up--she was trembling nervously. How dreadful it +was, she thought, to be thankful that a man was dead!--to feel a +relief at his being no longer in this world! Presently her husband +spoke again more reservedly. "No doubt you are greatly shocked and +grieved," he said. "I should not have told you so suddenly--pardon +me!" + +"I am not grieved," she murmured unsteadily. "It sounds horrible to +say so--but I--I am afraid I am GLAD!" + +"Clara!" + +She rose and came tremblingly towards him. She knelt at his feet, +though he strove to prevent her,--she raised her large, dark eyes, +full of dull agony, to his. + +"I've been a wicked woman, Harry," she said, with a strange, +imploring thrill of passion in her voice, "I am down--down in the +dust before you! Look at me--don't forgive me--I won't ask that--you +CAN'T forgive me,--but PITY me!" + +He took her hands and laid them round his neck,--he drew her gently, +soothingly,--closer, closer, till he pressed her to his heart. + +"Down in the dust are you?" he whispered brokenly. "My poor wife! +God forbid that I should keep you there!" + + + + +BOOK III. + + +THE LAND OF THE LONG SHADOW + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + + "They have the night, who had, like us, the day-- + We, whom day binds, shall have the night as they-- + We, from the fetters of the light unbound, + Healed of our wound of living, shall sleep sound!" + SWINBURNE. + +Night on the Altenfjord,--the long, long, changeless night of +winter. The sharp snow-covered crests of the mountains rose in white +appeal against the darkness of the sky,--the wild north wind tore +through the leafless branches of the pine-forests, bringing with it +driving pellets of stinging hail. Joyless and songless, the whole +landscape lay as though frozen into sculptured stone. The Sun +slept,--and the Fjord, black with brooding shadows, seemed silently +to ask--where? Where was the great king of Light?--the glorious god +of the golden hair and ruddy countenance?--the glittering warrior +with the flaming shield and spear invincible? Where had he found his +rest? By what strange enchantment had he fallen into so deep and +long a drowsiness. The wind that had rioted across the mountains, +rooting up great trees in its shrieking career northwards, grew +hushed as it approached the Altenfjord--there a weird stillness +reigned, broken only by the sullen and monotonous plash of the +invisible waves upon the scarcely visible shore. + +A few tiny, twinkling lights showed the irregular outline of +Bosekop, and now and then one or two fishing-boats with sable sails +and small colored lamps at mast and prow would flit across the inky +water like dark messengers from another world bound on some mournful +errand. Human figures, more shadowy than real, were to be seen +occasionally moving on the pier, and to the left of the little town, +as the eye grew accustomed to the moveless gloom, a group of +persons, like ghosts in a dream, could be dimly perceived, working +busily at the mending of nets. + +Suddenly a strange, unearthly glow flashed over the sombre scene,--a +rosy radiance deepening to brilliant streaks of fire. The dark +heavens were torn asunder, and through them streamed flaring pennons +of light,--waving, trembling, dancing, luminous ribbons of red, +blue, green, and a delicious amber, like the flowing of golden +wine,--wider, higher, more dazzlingly lustrous, the wondrous glory +shone aloft, rising upward from the horizon--thrusting long spears +of lambent flame among the murky retreating clouds, till in one +magnificent coruscation of resplendent beams a blazing arch of gold +leaped from east to west, spanning the visible breath of the Fjord, +and casting towards the white peaks above, vivid sparkles and +reflections of jewel-like brightness and color. Here was surely the +Rainbow Bridge of Odin--the glittering pathway leading to Valhalla! +Long filmy threads of emerald and azure trailed downwards from it, +like ropes of fairy flowers, binding it to the earth--above it hung +a fleece-like nebulous whiteness,--a canopy through which palpitated +sudden flashes of amethyst. Then, as though the arch were a bent bow +for the hand of some heavenly hunter, crimson beams darted across it +in swift succession, like arrows shot at the dark target of the +world. Round and round swept the varying circles of color--now +advancing--now retreating--now turning the sullen waters beneath +into a quivering mass of steely green--now beating against the snow- +covered hills till they seemed pinnacles of heaped-up pearls and +diamonds. The whole landscape was transformed,--and the shadowy +cluster of men and women on the shore paused in their toil, and +turned their pale faces towards the rippling splendor,--the heavy +fishing-nets drooping from their hands like dark webs woven by giant +spiders. + +"'Tis the first time we have seen the Arch of Death this year," said +one in awed accents. + +"Ay, ay!" returned another, with a sigh. "And some one is bound to +cross it, whether he will or no. 'Tis a sure sign!" + +"Sure!" they all agreed, in hushed voices as faint and far-off as +the breaking of the tide against the rocks on the opposite coast. + +As they spoke, the fairy-like bridge in the sky parted asunder and +vanished! The brilliant aurora borealis faded by swift degrees--a +few moments, and the land was again enveloped in gloom. + +It might have been midnight--yet by the clock it was but four in the +afternoon. Dreary indeed was the Altenfjord,--yet the neighboring +village of Talvag was even drearier. There, desolation reigned +supreme--it was a frozen region of bitter, shelterless cold, where +the poverty-stricken inhabitants, smitten by the physical torpor and +mental stupefaction engendered by the long, dark season, scarcely +stirred out of their miserable homes, save to gather extra fuel. +This is a time in Norway, when beyond the Arctic Circle, the old +gods yet have sway--when in spite of their persistent, sometimes +fanatical, adherence to the strictest forms of Christianity, the +people almost unconsciously revert to the superstitions of their +ancestors. Gathering round the blazing pine-logs, they recount to +one another in low voices the ancient legends of dead and gone +heroes,--and listening to the yell of the storm-wind round their +huts, they still fancy they hear the wild war-cries of the Valkyries +rushing past air full gallop on their coal-black steeds, with their +long hair floating behind them. + +On this particular afternoon the appearance of the "Death-Arch," as +they called that special form of the aurora, had impressed the +Talvig folk greatly. Some of them were at the doors, and, regardless +of the piercing cold, occupied themselves in staring languidly at a +reindeer sledge which stood outside one of the more distant huts, +evidently waiting for some person within. The hoofs of the animals +made no impression on the hardened snow--now and again they gently +shook the tinkling bells on their harness, but otherwise were very +patient. The sledge was in charge of a youthful Laplander--a +hideous, stunted specimen of humanity, who appeared to be literally +sewed up from head to foot in skins. + +This cortege was evidently an object of curiosity,--the on-lookers +eyed it askance, and with a sort of fear. For did it not belong to +the terrible bonde, Olaf Guldmar?--and would not the Laplander,--a +useful boy, well known in Talvig,--come to some fatal harm by +watching, even for a few minutes, the property of an acknowledged +pagan? Who could tell? The very reindeer might be possessed by evil +spirits,--they were certainly much sleeker and finer than the +ordinary run of such animals. There was something un-canny in the +very look of them! Thus the stuperfied, unreasoning Talvig folk +muttered, one to another, leaning drowsily out of their half-open +doors. + +"'Tis a strange thing," said one man, "that woman as strong in the +fear of the Lord as Lovisa Elsland should call for one of the wicked +to visit her on her death-bed." + +"Strange enough!" answered his neighbor, blinking over his pipe, and +knocking down some of the icicles pendent from his roof. "But maybe +it is to curse him with the undying curse of the godly." + +"She's done that all her life," said the first speaker. + +"That's true! She's been a faithful servant of the Gospel. All's +right with her in the next world--she'll die easily." + +"Was it for her the Death-Arch shone?" asked an old woman, suddenly +thrusting her head, wrapped in a red woollen hood, out of a low +doorway, through which the light of a fire sparkled from the +background, sending vivid flashes across the snow. + +The man who had spoken last shook his head solemnly. + +"The Death-Arch never shone for a Christian yet," he said gravely. +"No! There's something else in the wind. We can't see it--but it +will come--it must come! That sign never fails." + +And presently, tired of watching the waiting sledge and the passive +Laplander, he retreated within his house, shutting his door against +the darkness and the bitter wind. His neighbors followed his +example,--and, save for two or three red glimmers of light here and +there, the little village looked as though it had been deserted long +ago--a picture of frost-bound silence and solitude. + +Meanwhile, in Lovisa Elsland's close and comfortless dwelling, stood +Olaf Guldmar. His strong, stately figure, wrapped in furs, seemed +almost to fill the little place--he had thrown aside the thick scarf +of wadmel in which he had been wrapped to the eyes while driving in +the teeth of the wind,--and he now lifted his fur cap, thus +displaying his silvery hair, ruddy features, and open, massive brow. +At that moment a woman who was busying herself in putting fresh +pine-logs on the smouldering fire, turned and regarded him intently. + +"Lord, Lord!" she muttered--"'tis a man of men,--he rejoiceth in his +strength, even as the lion,--and of what avail shall the curse of +the wicked avail against the soul that is firmly established!" + +Guldmar heard her not--he was looking towards a low pallet bed, on +which lay, extended at full length, an apparently insensible form. + +"Has she been long thus?" he asked, in a low voice. + +"Since last night," replied the woman--no other than Mr. +Dyceworthy's former servant, Ulrika. "She wakened suddenly, and bade +me send for you. To-day she has not spoken." + +The bonde sighed somewhat impatiently. He approached the now blazing +pine-logs, and as he drew off his thick fur driving-gloves, and +warmed his hands at the cheerful blaze, Ulrika again fixed her dull +eyes upon him with something of wonder and reluctant admiration. +Presently she trimmed an oil-lamp, and set it, burning dimly, on the +table. Then she went to the bed and bent over it,--after a pause of +several minutes, she turned and made a beckoning sign with her +finger. Guldmar advanced a little,--when a sudden eldritch shriek +startled him back, almost curdling the blood in his veins. Out of +the deep obscurity, like some gaunt spectre rising from the tomb, +started a face, wrinkled, cadaverous, and distorted by suffering,--a +face in which the fierce, fevered eyes glittered with a strange and +dreadful brilliancy--the face of Lovisa Elsland, stern, forbidding, +and already dark with the shadows of approaching death. She stared +vacantly at Guldmar, whose picturesque head was illumined by the +ruddy glow of the fire--and feebly shaded her eyes as though she saw +something that hurt them. Ulrika raised her on her tumbled pillow, +and saying, in cold, unmoved tones--"Speak now, for the time is +short," she once more beckoned the bonde imperatively. + +He approached slowly. + +"Lovisia Elsland," he began in distinct tones, addressing himself to +that ghastly countenance still partly shaded by one hand. "I am +here--Olaf Guldmar. Dost thou know me?" + +At the sound of his voice, a strange spasm contorted the withered +features of the dying woman. She bent her head as though to listen +to some far-off echo, and held up her skinny finger as though +enjoining silence. + +"Know thee!" she babbled whisperingly. "How should I not know the +brown-haired Olaf! Olaf of the merry eye--Olaf, the pride of the +Norse maiden?" She lifted herself in a more erect attitude, and +stretching out her lean arms, went on as though chanting a +monotonous recitative. "Olaf, the wanderer over wild seas,--he comes +and goes in his ship that sails like a white bird on the sparkling +waters--long and silent are the days of his absence--mournful are +the Fjelds and Fjords without the smile of Olaf--Olaf the King!" + +She paused, and Guldmar regarded her in pitying wonder. Her face +changed to a new expression--one of wrath and fear. + +"Stay, stay!" she cried in penetrating accents. "Who comes from the +South with Olaf? The clouds drive fast before the wind--clouds rest +on the edge of the dark Fjord--sails red as blood flash against the +sky--who comes with Olaf? Fair hair ripples against his breast like +streaming sunbeams; eyes blue as the glitter of the northern lights, +are looking upon him--lips crimson and heavy with kisses for Olaf-- +ah!" She broke off with a cry, and beat the air with her hands as +though to keep some threatening thing away from her. "Back, back! +Dead bride of Olaf, torment me no more--back, I say! See,"--and she +pointed into the darkness before her--"The pale, pale face--the long +glittering hair twisted like a snake of gold,--she glides along the +path across the mountains,--the child follows!--the child! Why not +kill the child as well--why not?" + +She stopped suddenly with a wild laugh. The bonde had listened to +her ravings with something of horror, his ruddy cheeks growing +paler. + +"By the gods, this is strange!" he muttered. "She seems to speak of +my wife,--yet what can she know of her?" + +For some moments there was silence. Lovisa seemed to have exhausted +her strength. Presently, however, she put aside her straggling white +hairs from her forehead, and demanded fiercely-- + +"Where is my grandchild? Where is Britta?" + +Neither Guldmar nor Ulrika made any reply. But Britta's name +recalled the old woman to herself, and when she spoke again it was +quite collectedly, and in her usual harsh voice. She seemed to +forget all that she had just uttered, for she turned her eyes upon +the bonde, as though she had but then perceived him. + +"So you are come, Olaf Guldmar!" she said. "It is well--for the hand +of Death is upon me." + +"It is well, indeed, if I can be of service, Lovisa Elsland," +responded Guldmar, "though I am but a sorry consoler, holding as I +do, that death is the chief blessing, and in no way to be regretted +at any time. Moreover, when the body grows too weak to support the +soul, 'tis as well to escape from it with what speed we may." + +"Escape--escape? Where?" asked Lovisa. "From the worm that dieth +not? From the devouring fame that is never quenched? From the +torturing thirst and heat and darkness of hell, who shall escape?" + +"Nay, if that is all the comfort thy creed can give thee," said the +bonde, with a half-smile, "'tis but a poor staff to lean on!" + +Lovisa looked at him mockingly. "And is thine so strong a prop to +thy pride?" she asked disdainfully. "Has Odin so endowed thee that +thou shouldst boast of him? Listen to me, Olaf Guldmar--I have but +little strength remaining, and I must speak briefly. Thy wife--" + +"What of her?" said the bonde hastily. "Thou knewst her not." + +"I knew her," said Lovisa steadily, "as the lightning knows the tree +it withers--as the sea knows the frail boat it wrecks for sport on a +windy day. Thou haughty Olaf! I knew her well even as the broken +heart knows its destroyer!" + +Guldmar looked perplexedly at Ulrika. "Surely she raves again?" he +said. Ulrika was silent. + +"Rave? Tell him I do not rave!" cried Lovisa rising in her bed to +utter her words with more strength and emphasis. "May be I have +raved, but that is past! The Lord, who will judge and condemn my +soul, bear witness that I speak the truth! Olaf Guldmar, rememberest +thou the days when we were young?" + +"'Tis long ago, Lovisa!" replied the bonde with brief gentleness. + +"Long ago? It seems but yesterday! But yesterday I saw the world all +radiant with hope and joy and love--love that to you was a mere +pastime--but with ME--" She shuddered and seemed to lose herself in +a maze of dreary recollections. "Love!" she presently muttered-- +"'love is strong as death,--jealousy is cruel as the grave--the +coals thereof are coals of fire which hath a most vehement flame!' +Even so! You, Olaf Guldmar, have forgotten what I remember,--that +once in that yesterday of youth, you called me fair,--once your lips +branded mine! Could I forget that kiss? Think you a Norse woman, +bred in a shadow of the constant mountains, forgets the first thrill +of passion waked in her soul? Light women of those lands where the +sun ever shines on fresh follies, may count their loves by the +score,--but with us of the North, ONE love suffices to fill a +lifetime. And was not my life filled? Filled to overflowing with +bitterness and misery! For I loved you, proud Olaf!--I loved you--" +The bonde uttered an exclamation of incredulous astonishment. Lovisa +fixed her eyes on him with a dark scorn. "Yes, I loved you,--scoffer +and unbeliever as you were and are!--accursed of God and man! I +loved you in spite of all that was said against you--nay, I would +have forsaken my creed for yours, and condemned my soul to the +everlasting burning for your sake! I loved you as SHE--that pale, +fair, witch-like thing you wedded, could never love--" Her voice +died away in a sort of despairing wail, and she paused. + +"By my soul!" said the bonde, astounded, and stroking his white +beard in some embarrassment. "I never knew of this! It is true that +in the hot days of youth, mischief is often done unwittingly. But +why trouble yourself with these memories, Lovisa? If it be any +comfort,--believe me, I am sorry harm ever came to you through my +thoughtless jesting--" + +"It matters not!" and Lovisa regarded him with a strange and awful +smile. "I have had my revenge!" She stopped abruptly,--then went on- +-"Twas a fair bride you chose, Olaf Guldmar--child of an alien from +these shores,--Thelma, with the treacherous laughter and light of +the South in her eyes and smile! And I, who had known love, made +friends with hate--" She checked herself, and looked full at the +bonde with a fiendish joy sparkling in her eyes. "She whom you +wedded--she whom you loved so well,--how soon she died!" + +There was something so suggestive and dreadful in the expression of +her face as she said this, that the stout heart of the old bonde, +pulsated more quickly with a sudden vague distrust and dread. She +gave him no time to speak, but laying one yellow, claw-like hand on +his arm, and raising her voice to a sort of yell, exclaimed +triumphantly-- + +"Yes, yes! how soon she died! Bravely, bravely done! And no one ever +guessed the truth--no one ever knew I KILLED her!" + +Guldmar uttered a sharp cry, and shook himself free from her touch. +In the same instant his hand flew to the hilt of the hunting-knife +in his girdle. + +"KILLED her! By the gods--" + +Ulrika sprang before him. "Shame!" she cried sternly. "She is +dying!" + +"Too slowly for me!" exclaimed the bonde furiously. + +"Peace--peace!" implored Ulrika. "Let her speak!" + +"Strike, Olaf Guldmar!" said Lovisa, in a deep voice, harsh, but all +untremulous--"Strike, pagan, with whom the law of blood is supreme-- +strike to the very center of my heart--I do not fear you! I killed +her, I say--and therein I, the servant of the Lord, was justified! +Think you that the Most High hath not commanded His elect to utterly +destroy and trample underfoot their enemies?--and is not vengeance +mine as well as thine, accursed slave of Odin?" + +A spasm of pain here interrupted her--she struggled violently for +breath--and Ulrika supported her. Guldmar stood motionless, white +with restrained fury, his eyes blazing. Recovering by slow degrees, +Lovisa once more spoke--her voice was weaker, and sounded a long way +off. + +"Yea, the Lord hath been on my side!" she said, and the hideous +blasphemy rattled in her throat as it was uttered. "Listen--and hear +how He delivered mine enemy into my hands. I watched her always--I +followed her many and many a time, though she never saw me. I knew +her favorite path across the mountains,--it led past a rocky chasm. +On the edge of that chasm there was a broad, flat stone, and there +she would sit often, reading, or watching the fishing-boats on the +Fjord, and listening to the prattle of her child. I used to dream of +that stone, and wonder if I could loosen it! It was strongly +imbedded in the earth--but each day I went to it--each day I moved +it! Little by little I worked--till a mere touch would have set it +hurling downwards,--yet it looked as firm as ever." Guldmar uttered +a fierce ejaculation of anguish--he put one hand to his throat as +though he were stifling. Lovisa, watching him, smiled vindictively, +and continued-- + +"When I had done all I could do, I lay in wait for her, hoping and +praying--my hour came at last! It was a bright sunny morning--a +little bird had been twittering above the very place--as it flew +away, SHE approached--a book was in her hand,--her child followed +her at some little distance off. Fortune favored me--a cluster of +pansies had opened their blossoms a few inches below the stone,--she +saw them,--and, light as a bird, sprang on it and reached forward to +gather them--ah!"--and the wretched woman clapped her hands and +broke into malignant laughter--"I can hear her quick shriek now--the +crash of the stones and the crackle of branches as she fell down,-- +down to her death! Presently the child came running,--it was too +young to understand--it sat down patiently waiting for its mother. +How I longed to kill it! but it sang to itself like the bird that +had flown away, and I could not! But SHE was gone--SHE was silent +for ever--the Lord be praised for all His mercies! Was she smiling, +Olaf Guldmar, when you found her--DEAD?" + +A strange solemnity shadowed the bonde's features. He turned his +eyes upon her steadily. + +"Blessing and honor be to the gods of my fathers!" he said--"I found +her--LIVING!" + +The change that came over Lovisa's face at these words was +inexpressibly awful--she grew livid and her lips twitched +convulsively. + +"Living--living!" she gasped. + +"Living!" repeated Guldmar sternly. "Vile hag! Your purpose was +frustrated! Your crime destroyed her beauty and shortened her days-- +but she lived--lived for ten sweet, bitter years, hidden away from +all eyes save mine,--mine that never grew tired of looking in her +patient, heavenly face! Ten years I held her as one holds a jewel-- +and, when she died, her death was but falling asleep in these fond +arms--" + +Lovisa raised herself with a sharp cry, and wrung her hands +together-- + +"Ten years--ten years!" she moaned. "I thought her dead--and she +lived on,--beloved and loving all the while. Oh God, God, why hast +thou made a mockery of Thy servant!" She rocked herself to and fro-- +then looked up with an evil smile. "Nay, but she SUFFERED! That was +best. It is worse to suffer than to die. Thank God, she SUFFERED!" + +"Ay, she suffered!" said Guldmar fiercely, scarce able to restrain +himself from seizing upon the miserable old woman and shaking the +sinking life out of her--"And had I but guessed who caused her +sufferings, by the sword of Odin, I would have--" + +Ulrika laid her hand on his suddenly upraised arm. + +"Listen!" she whispered. A low wailing, like the cry of a distressed +child, swept round and round the house, followed by a gust of wind +and a clattering shower of hailstones. A strange blue light leaped +up from the sparkling log fire, and cast an unearthly glow through +the room. A deep stillness ensued. + +Then--steady and clear and resonant--a single sound echoed through +the air, like a long note played on an exceedingly sweet silver +trumpet. It began softly--swelled to a crescendo--then died +delicately away. Guldmar raised his head--his face was full of rapt +and expectant gravity,--his action, too, was somewhat singular, for +he drew the knife from his girdle and kissed the hilt solemnly, +returning it immediately to its sheath. At the same moment Lovisa +uttered a loud cry, and flinging the coverings from her, strove to +rise from her bed. Ulrika held her firmly,--she struggled feebly yet +determinedly, gazing the while with straining, eager, glassy eyes +into the gloom of the opposite corner. + +"Darkness--darkness!" she muttered hoarsely,--"and the white faces +of dead things! There--there they lie!--all still, at the foot of +the black chasm--their mouths move without sound--what--what are +they saying? I cannot hear--ask them to speak louder--louder! Ah!" +and she uttered a terrified scream that made the rafters ring." They +move!--they stretch out their hands--cold, cold hands!--they are +drawing me down to them--down--down--to that darkness! Hold me--hold +me! don't let me go to them--Lord, Lord be merciful to me--let me +live--live--" Suddenly she drew back in deadly horror, gesticulating +with her tremulous lean hands as though it shut away the sight of +some loathsome thing unveiled to her view. "Who is it"--she asked in +an awful, shuddering whisper--"who is it that says there is no hell? +_I_ SEE IT!" Still retreating backwards, backwards--the clammy dew +of death darkening her affrighted countenance,--she turned her +glazing eyes for the last time on Guldmar. Her lips twitched into a +smile of dreadful mockery. + +"May--thy gods--reward thee--Olaf Guldmar--even--as mine--are-- +rewarding--ME!" + +And with these words, her head dropped heavily on her breast. Ulrika +laid her back on her pillow, a corpse. The stern, cruel smile froze +slowly on her dead features--gradually she became, as it were, a +sort of ancient cenotaph, carved to resemble old age combined with +unrepenting evil--the straggling white hair that rested on her +wrinkled forehead looking merely like snow fallen on sculptured +stone. + +"Good Lord, have mercy on her soul!" murmured Ulrika piously, as she +closed the upward staring eyes, and crossed the withered hands. + +"Good devil, claim thine own!" said Guldmar, with proudly lifted arm +and quivering, disdainful lips. "Thou foolish woman! Thinkest thou +thy Lord makes place for murderers in His heaven? If so, 'tis well I +am not bound there! Only the just can tread the pathway to +Valhalla,--'tis a better creed!" + +Ulrika looked at his superb, erect figure and lofty head, and a +strangely anxious expression flitted across her dull countenance. + +"Nay, bonde, we do not believe that the Lord accepteth murderers, +without they repent themselves of their backslidings,--but if with +penitence they turn to Him even at the eleventh hour, haply they may +be numbered among the elect." + +Guldmar's eyes flashed. "I know not thy creed, woman, nor care to +learn it! But, all the same, thou art deceived in thy vain +imaginings. The Eternal Justice cannot err--call that justice Christ +or Odin as thou wilt. I tell you, the soul of the innocent bird that +perishes in the drifting snow is near and dear to its Creator--but +the tainted soul that had yonder vile body for its tenement, was but +a flame of the evil one, and accursed from the beginning,--it must +return to him from whom it came. A heaven for such as she? Nay-- +rather the lowest circle of the furthest and fiercest everlasting +fires--and thither do I commend her! Farewell!" + +Rapidly muffling himself up in his wraps, he strode out of the +house. He sprang into his sledge, throwing a generous gratuity to +the small Laplander who had taken charge of it, and who now ventured +to inquire-- + +"Has the good Lovisa left us?" + +Guldmar burst into a hard laugh. "GOOD! By my soul! The folks of +Talvig take up murderers for saints and criminals for guides! 'Tis a +wild world! Yes--she has gone--where all such blessed ones go--to-- +heaven!" He shook his clenched fist in the air--then hastily +gathering up the reins, prepared to start. + +The Lapp, after the manner of his race, was easily frightened, and +cowered back, terrified at the bonde's menacing gesture and fierce +tone,--but quickly bethinking himself of the liberal fee he clutched +in his palm, he volunteered a warning to this kingly old man with +the streaming white hair and beard, and his keen eyes that were +already fixed on the dark sweep of the rough, uneven road winding +towards the Altenfjord. + +"There is a storm coming, Jarl Guldmar!" he stammered. + +Guldmar turned his head. "Why call me Jarl?" he demanded half +angrily. "'Tis a name I wear not." + +He touched the reindeer lightly with his long whip--the sensitive +beast started and sprang forward. + +Once more the Lapp exclaimed, with increased excitement and uncouth +gestures-- + +"Storm is coming!--wide--dark, deep! See how the sky stoops with the +hidden snow!" + +He pointed to the north, and there, low on the horizon, was a lurid +red gleam like a smouldering fire, while just above it a greenish +blackness of cloud hung heavy and motionless. Towards the central +part of the heaven two or three stars shone with frosty brightness, +and through a few fleecy ribbons of greyish mist limmered the +uncertain promise of a faint moon. + +Guldmar smiled slightly. "Storm coming?" he answered almost gaily. +"That is well! Storm and I are old friends, my lad! Good night!" + +Once more he touched his horned steeds, and with a jingle-jangle of +musical bells and a scudding, slippery hissing across the hard snow, +the sledge sped off with fairy-like rapidity, and in a few moments +its one little guiding lantern disappeared in the darkness like a +suddenly extinguished candle. + +The Lapp stood pondering and gazing after it, with the bonde's money +in his palm, till the cold began to penetrate even his thick skin- +clothing and his fat little body, well anointed with whale-oil +though it was,--and becoming speedily conscious of this, he +scampered with extraordinary agility, considering the dimensions of +his snow-shoes, into the hut where he had his dwelling, relating to +all who choose to hear, the news of old Lovisa Elsland's death, and +the account of his brief interview with the dreaded but generous +pagan. + +Ulrika, watching by the corpse of her aged friend, was soon joined +by others bent on sharing her vigil, and the house was presently +filled with woman's religious wailings and prayers for the departed. +To all the curious inquiries that were made concerning the cause of +Lovisa's desire to see the bonde before she died, Ulrika vouchsafed +no reply,--and the villagers, who stood somewhat in awe of her as a +woman of singular godliness and discreet reputation, soon refrained +from asking any more questions. An ambitious young Lutheran preacher +came, and, addressing himself to all assembled, loudly extolled the +superhuman virtues of the dead "Mother of the village," as Lovisa +had been called,--amid the hysterical weeping and moaning of the +mourners, he begged them to look upon her "venerated face" and +observe "the smile of God's own peace engraven there,"--and amid all +his eloquence, and the shrieking excitement of his fanatical +hearers, Ulrika alone was silent. + +She sat stern and absorbed, with set lips and lowered eyelids at the +head of the bed whereon the corpse was now laid out, grimly rigid,-- +with bound-up jaws, and clasped fingers like stiff, dried bones. Her +thoughts dwelt gloomily and intently on Guldmar's words--"The +Eternal Justice cannot err." Eternal Justice! What sentence would +Eternal Justice pass upon the crime of murder?--or attempt to +murder? "I am guilty," the unhappy woman reflected, with a strong +shudder chilling her veins, "guilty even as Lovisa! I tried to kill +my child--I thought, I hoped it was dead! It was not my meaning that +it should live. And this Eternal Justice, may be, will judge the +intention more than the crime. O Lord, Lord! save my soul! Teach me +how to escape from the condemning fires of Thine anger!" Thus she +prayed and wrestled with, her accusing self in secret--despair and +fear raging in her heart, though not a flicker of her inward +agitation betrayed itself outwardly on her stolid, expressionless +features. + +Meanwhile the wind rose to a tearing, thunderous gale, and the +night, already so dark, darkened yet more visibly. Olaf Guldmar, +driving swiftly homewards, caught the first furious gust of the +storm that came rushing onward from the North Cape, and as it +swooped sideways against his light sledge, he was nearly hurled from +his seat by the sudden violence of the shock. He settled himself +more firmly, encouraging with a cheery word the startled reindeer, +who stopped short,--stretching out their necks and sniffing the air, +their hairy sides heaving with the strain of trotting against the +blast, and the smoke of their breath steaming upwards in the frosty +air like white vapor. The way lay now through a narrow defile +bordered with tall pines,--and as the terrified animals, recovering, +shook the tinkling bells on their harness, and once more resumed +their journey, the road was comparatively sheltered, and the wind +seemed to sink as suddenly as it rose. There was a hush--an almost +ominous silence. + +The sledge glided more slowly between the even lines of upright +giant trees, crowned with icicles and draped in snow,--the bonde +involuntarily loosened the reins of his elfin steeds, and again +returned to those painful and solemn musings, from which the +stinging blow of the tempest had for a moment roused him. The proud +heart of the old man ached bitterly. What! All these years had +passed, and he, the descendant of a hundred Vikings, had been +cheated of justice! He had seen his wife,--the treasured darling of +his days, suffering,--dying, inch by inch, year by year, with all +her radiant beauty withered,--and he had never known her destroyer! +Her fall from the edge of the chasm had been deemed by them both an +accident, and yet--this wretched Lovisa Elsland--mad with misplaced, +disappointed passion, jealousy, and revenge,--had lived on to the +extreme of life, triumphant and unsuspected. + +"I swear the gods have played me false in this!" he muttered, +lifting his eyes in a sort of fierce appeal to the motionless +pinetops stiff with frost. The mystery of the old hag's hatred of +his daughter was now made clear--she resembled her mother too +closely to escape Lovisa's malice. He remembered the curse she had +called down upon the innocent girl,--how it was she who had +untiringly spread abroad the report among the superstitious people +of the place, that Thelma was a witch whose presence was a blight +upon the land,--how she had decoyed her into the power of Mr. +Dyceworthy--all was plain--and, notwithstanding her deliberate +wickedness, she had lived her life without punishment! This was what +made Guldmar's blood burn, and pulses thrill. He could not +understand why the Higher Powers had permitted this error of +justice, and, like many of his daring ancestors, he was ready to +fling defiance in the very face of Odin, and demand--"Why,--O thou +drowsy god, nodding over thy wine-cups,--why didst thou do this +thing?" + +Utter fearlessness,--bodily and spiritual,--fearlessness of past, +present, or future, life or death,--was Guldmar's creed. The true +Norse warrior spirit was in him--had he been told, on heavenly +authority, that the lowest range of the "Nastrond" or Scandinavian +Hell, awaited him, he would have accepted his fate with unflinching +firmness. The indestructibility of the soul, and the certainty that +it must outlive even centuries of torture, and triumph gloriously in +the end, was the core of the faith he professed. As he glanced +upwards, the frozen tree-tops, till then rigidly erect, swayed +slightly from side to side with a crackling sound--but he paid no +heed to this slight warning of a fresh attack from the combative +storm that was gathering together and renewing its scattered forces. +He began to think of his daughter, and the grave lines on his face +relaxed and softened. + +"'Tis all fair sailing for the child," he mused. "For that I should +be grateful! The world has been made a soft nest for my bird,--I +should not complain,--my own time is short." His former anger calmed +a little--the brooding irritation of his mind became gradually +soothed. + +"Rose of my heart!" he whispered, tenderly apostrophizing the memory +of his wife,--that lost jewel of love, whose fair body lay enshrined +in the king's tomb by the Fjord. "Wrongfully done to death as thou +wert, and brief time as we had for loving;--in spite of thy +differing creed, I feel that I shall meet thee soon! Yes--in the +world beyond the stars, they will bring thee to me in Valhalla,-- +wheresoever thou art, thou wilt not refuse to come! The gods +themselves cannot unfasten the ties of love between us!" + +As he half thought, half uttered, these words, the reindeer again +stopped abruptly, rearing their antlered heads and panting heavily. +Hark! what was that? A clear, far-reaching note of music seemingly +wakened from the waters of the Fjord and rising upwards, upwards, +with bell-like distinctness! Guldmar leaned from his motionless +sledge and listened in awe--it was the same sound he had before +heard as he stood by Lovisa Elsland's death-bed--and was in truth +nothing but a strong current of wind blowing through the arched and +honeycombed rocks by the sea, towards the higher land,--creating the +same effect as though one should breathe forcibly through a pipe- +like instrument of dried and hollow reeds,--and being rendered more +resonant by the intense cold, it bore a striking similarity to the +full blast of a war-trumpet. For the worshipper of Odin, it had a +significant and supernatural meaning,--and he repeated his former +action--that of drawing the knife from his girdle and kissing the +hilt. "If Death is near me," he said in a loud voice, "I bid it +welcome! The gods know that I am ready!" + +He waited as though expecting some answer--but there was a brief, +absolute silence. Then, with a wild shriek and riotous uproar, the +circling tempest,--before uncertain and vacillating in its wrath,-- +pounced, eagle-like, downward and grasped the mountains in its +talons,--the strong pines rocked backwards and forwards as though +bent by Herculean hands, crashing their frosted branches madly +together:--the massive clouds in the sky opened and let fall their +burden of snow. Down came the large fleecy flakes, twisting dizzily +round and round in a white waltz to the whirl of the wind--faster-- +faster--heavier and thicker, till there seemed no clear space in the +air. Guldmar urged on the reindeer, more anxious for their safety +than his own--the poor beasts were fatigued, and the blinding snow +confused them, but they struggled on patiently, encouraged by their +master's voice and the consciousness that they were nearing home. +The storm increased in fury--and a fierce gust of frozen sleet +struck the sledge like a strong hammer-stroke as it advanced through +the rapidly deepening snow-drifts--its guiding lantern was +extinguished. Guldmar did not stop to relight it--he knew he was +approaching his farm, and he trusted to the instinct and sagacity of +his steeds. + +There was indeed but a short distance to go,--the narrow wooded +defile opened out on two roads, one leading direct to Bosekop--the +other, steep and tortuous, winding down to the shore of the Fjord-- +this latter passed the bonders gate. Once out of the shadow of the +pines, the way would be more distinctly seen,--the very reindeer +seemed to be conscious of this, for they trotted more steadily, +shaking their bells in even and rhythmical measure. As they neared +the end of the long dark vista, a sudden bright blue glare quivered +and sprang wave-like across the snow--a fantastic storm-aurora that +flashed and played among the feathery falling flakes of white till +they looked like knots and closters of sparkling jewels. The extreme +point of the close defile was reached at last, and here the +landscape opened up wide, rocky and desolate--a weird picture,--with +the heavy clouds above repeatedly stabbed through and through by the +needle-pointed beams of the aurora borealis,--and the blank +whiteness of the ground below. Just as the heads of the reindeer +were turned into the homeward road, half of the aurora suddenly +faded, leaving the other half still beating out its azure brilliance +against the horizon. At the same instant, with abrupt swiftness, a +dark shadow,--so dark as to seem almost palpable,--descended and +fell directly in front of the advancing sledge--a sort of mist that +appeared to block the way. + +Guldmar leaned forward and gazed with eager, straining eyes into +that drooping gloom--a shadow?--a mere vapor, with the Northern +Lights glimmering through its murky folds? Ah no--no! For him it was +something very different,--a heavenly phantasm, beautiful and grand, +with solemn meaning! He saw a Maiden, majestically tall, of earnest +visage and imperial mien,--her long black hair streamed loose upon +the wind--in one hand she held a shining shield--in the other a +lifted spear! On her white brow rested a glittering helmet,--her +bosom heaved beneath a corslet of pale gold--she fixed her divine, +dark eyes full upon his face and smiled! With a cry of wonder and +ecstacy the old man fell back in his sledge,--the reins dropped from +his hands,--"The Valkyrie! the Valkyrie!" he exclaimed. + +A mere breathing space, and the shadow vanished,--the aurora came +out again in unbroken splendor--and the reindeer, feeling no +restraint upon them, and terrified by something in the air, or the +ceaseless glitter, of the lights in the sky, started off +precipitately at full gallop. The long reins trailed loosely over +their backs, lashing their sides as they ran--Guldmar, recovering +from his momentary awe and bewilderment, strove to seize them, but +in vain. He called, he shouted,--the frightened animals were utterly +beyond control, and dashed madly down the steep road, swinging the +sledge from side to side, and entangling themselves more and more +with the loose reins, till, irritated beyond endurance, confused and +blinded by the flash of the aurora and the dizzy whirl of the +swiftly falling snow, they made straight for a steep bank,--and +before the bonde had time to realize the situation and jump from the +sledge--crash! down they went with a discordant jangle of bells, +their hoofs splitting a thin, sharp shelf of ice as they leaped +forward,--dragging the light vehicle after them, and twisting it +over and over till it was a mere wreck,--and throwing out its +occupant head foremost against a jagged stone. + +Then more scared than ever, they strove to clamber out of the gully +into which they had recklessly sprung, but, foiled in these +attempts, they kicked, plunged, and reared,--trampling heedlessly +over the human form lying helpless among the shattered fragments of +the sledge,--till tired out at last, they stood motionless, panting +with terror. Their antlered heads cast fantastic patterns on the +snow in the varying rose and azure radiance that rippled from the +waving ribbons of the aurora,--and close to them, his slowly +trickling life-blood staining the white ground,--his hair and beard +glittering in the light like frosted silver,--his eyes fast closed +as though he slept,--lay Olaf Guldmar unconscious--dying. The spear +of the Valkyrie had fallen! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + + "Bury me not when I am dead-- + Lay me not down in a dusty bed; + I could not bear the life down there, + With the wet worms crawling about my hair!" + + ERIC MACKAY. + + +Long hours passed, and the next day dawned, if the dim twilight that +glimmered faintly across the Altenfjord could be called a dawn. The +snow-fall had ceased,--the wind had sunk--there was a frost-bound, +monotonous calm. The picturesque dwelling of the bonde was white in +every part, and fringed with long icicles,--icicles drooped from its +sheltering porch and gabled windows--the deserted dove-cote on the +roof was a miniature ice-palace, curiously festooned with thin +threads and crested pinnacles of frozen snow. Within the house there +was silence,--the silence of approaching desolation. In the room +where Thelma used to sit and spin, a blazing fire of pine sparkled +on the walls, casting ruddy outward flashes through the frost- +covered lattice-windows,--and here, towards the obscure noon, Olaf +Guldmar awoke from his long trance of insensibility. He found +himself at home, stretched on his own bed, and looked about him +vacantly. In the earnest and watchful countenance that bent above +his pillow, he slowly recognized his friend, companion, and servant, +Valdemar Svensen, and though returning consciousness brought with it +throbs of agonizing pain, he strove to smile, and feebly stretched +out his hand. Valdemar grasped it--kissed it--and in spite of his +efforts to restrain his emotion, a sigh, that was almost a groan, +escaped him. The bonde smiled again,--then lay quiet for a few +moments as though endeavoring to collect his thought. Presently he +spoke--his voice was faint yet distinct. + +"What has happened, Valdemar?" he asked. "How is it that the +strength has departed from me?" + +Svensen dropped on his knees by the bedside. "An accident, my Lord +Olaf," he began falteringly. + +Guldmar's eyes suddenly lightened. "Ah, I remember!" he said. "The +rush down the valley--I remember all!" He paused, then added gently, +"And so the end has come, Valdemar!" + +Svensen uttered a passionate exclamation of distress. + +"Let not my lord say so!" he murmured appealingly, with the air of a +subject entreating favor from a king. "Or, if it must be, let me +also travel with thee wherever thou goest!" + +Olaf Guldmar's gaze rested on him with a musing tenderness. + +"'Tis a far journey," he said simply. "And thou art not summoned." +He raised his arm to test its force--for one second it was +uplifted,--then it fell powerless at his side. "I am conquered!" he +went on with a cheerful air. "The fight is over, Valdemar! Surely I +have had a long battle, and the time for rest and reward is +welcome." He was silent for a little, then continued, "Tell me--how +--where didst thou find me? It seems I had a dream, strange, and +glorious--then came a rushing sound of wheels and clanging bells,-- +and after that, a long deep silence." + +Speaking in low tones, Valdemar briefly related the events of the +past night. How he had heard the reindeer's gallop down the road, +and the quick jangling of the bells on their harness, and had +concluded that the bonde was returning home at extraordinary speed-- +how these sounds had suddenly and unaccountably ceased,--how, after +waiting for some time, and hearing nothing more, he had become +greatly alarmed, and, taking a pine-torch, had gone out to see what +had occurred,--how he had found the reindeer standing by the broken +sledge in the gully, and how, after some search, he had finally +discovered his master, lying half-covered by the snow, and +grievously injured. How he had lifted him and carried him into the +house, . . . + +"By my soul!" interrupted the bonde cheerfully, "thou must have +found me no light weight, Valdemar! See what a good thing it is to +be a man--with iron muscles, and strong limbs, and hardy nerve! By +the Hammer of Thor! the glorious gift of strong manhood is never +half appreciated! As for me--I am a man no longer!" + +He sighed a little, and, passing his sinewy hand across his brow, +lay back exhausted. He was racked by bodily torture, but,-- +unflinching old hero as he was,--gave no sign of the agonizing pain +he suffered. Valdemar Svensen had risen from his knees, and now +stood gazing at him with yearning, miserable eyes, his brown, +weather-beaten visage heavily marked with lines of grief and +despair. He knew that he was utterly powerless--that nothing could +save the noble life that was ebbing slowly away before him. His long +and varied experience as a sailor, pilot, and traveller in many +countries had given him some useful knowledge of medicine and +surgery, and if anything was possible to be done, he could do it. +But in this case no medical skill would have been availing--the old +man's ribs wore crushed in and his spine injured,--his death was a +question of but a few hours at the utmost, if so long. + +"Olaf the King!" muttered the bonde presently, "True! They make no +mistakes yonder,--they know each warrior by name and rank--'tis only +in this world we are subject to error. This world! By the gods! +. . . 'tis but a puff of thistle-down--or a light mist floating from +the sunset to the sea!" + +He made a vigorous attempt to raise himself from his pillow--though +the excruciating anguish caused by his movement, made him wince a +little and grow paler. + +"Wine, Valdemar! Fill the horn cup to the brim and bring it to me--I +must have strength to speak--before I depart--on the last great +journey." + +Obediently and in haste, Svensen filled the cup he asked for with +old Lacrima Christi, of which there was always a supply in this far +Northern abode, and gave it to him, watching him with a sort of +superstitious reverence as he drained off its contents and returned +it empty. + +"Ah! That warms this freezing blood of mine," he said, the lustre +flashing back into his eyes. "'Twill find fresh force to flow a +brief while longer. Valdemar--I have little time to spend with thee- +-I feel death HERE"--and he slightly touched his chest--"cold--cold +and heavy. 'Tis nothing--a passing, chilly touch that sweeps away +the world! But the warmth of a new, strong life awaits me--a life of +never-ending triumph! The doors of Valhalla stand wide open--I heard +the trumpet-call last night--I saw the dark-haired Valkyrie! All is +well--and my soul is full of rejoicing. Valdemar--there is but one +thing now thou hast to do for me,--the one great service thou hast +sworn to render. FULFILL THINE OATH!" + +Valdemar's brown cheek blanched,--his lips quivered,--he flung up +his hands in wild appeal. The picturesque flow of his native speech +gained new fervor and eloquence as he spoke. + +"Not yet--not yet, my lord!" he cried passionately. "Wait but a +little--there is time. Think for one moment--think! Would it not be +well for my lord to sleep the last sleep by the side of his beloved +Thelma--the star of the dark mountains--the moonbeam of the night of +his life? Would not peace enwrap him there as with a soft garment, +and would not his rest be lulled by the placid murmur of the sea? +For the days of old time and storm and victory are past--and the +dead slumber as stones in the silent pathways--why would my lord +depart in haste as though he were wrathful, from the land he has +loved?--from the vassal who implores his pardon for pleading against +a deed he dares not do!" + +"Dares not--dares not!" cried the bonde, springing up half-erect +from his couch, in spite of pain, and looking like some enraged old +lion with his tossed, streaming hair and glittering eyes. "Serf as +thou art and coward! Thinkest thou an oath such as thine is but a +thread of hair, to be snapped at thy pleasure? Wilt thou brave the +wrath of the gods and the teeth of the Wolf of Nastrond? As surely +as the seven stars shine on the white brow of Thor, evil shall be +upon thee if thou refusest to perform the vow thou hast sworn! And +shall a slave have strength to resist the dying curse of a King?" + +The pride, the supreme authority,--the magnified strength of command +that flushed the old man's features, were extraordinary and almost +terrible in their impressive grandeur. If he indeed believed himself +by blood a king and a descendant of kings,--he could not have shown +a more forcible display of personal sovereignty. The effect of his +manner on Valdemar was instantaneous,--the superstitious fears of +that bronzed sea-wanderer were easily aroused. His head drooped--he +stretched out his hands imploringly. + +"Let not my lord curse his servant," he faltered. "It was but a +tremor of the heart that caused my tongue to speak foolishly. I am +ready--I have sworn--the oath shall be kept to its utmost end!" + +Olaf Guldmar's threatening countenance relaxed, and he fell back on +his pillows. + +"It is well!" he said feebly and somewhat indistinctly. "Thy want of +will maddened me--I spoke and lived in times that are no more--days +of battle--and--glory--that are gone--from men--for ever. More wine, +Valdemar!--I must keep a grip on this slippery life--and yet--I +wander--wander into the--night--" + +His voice ceased, and he sank into a swoon--a swoon that was like +death. His breathing was scarcely perceptible, and Svensen, alarmed +at his appearance, forced some drops of wine between his set lips, +and chafed his cold hands with anxious solicitude. Slowly and very +gradually he recovered consciousness and intelligence, and presently +asked for a pencil and paper to write a few farewell words to his +daughter. In the grief and bewilderment of the time, Valdemar +entirely forgot to tell him that a letter from Thelma had arrived +for him on the previous afternoon while he was away at Talvig,--and +was even now on the shelf above the chimney, awaiting perusal. +Guldmar, ignorant of this, began to write slowly and with firmness, +disregarding his rapidly sinking strength. Scarcely had he begun the +letter, however, than he looked up meaningly at Svensen, who stood +waiting beside him. + +"The time grows very short," he said imperatively. "Prepare +everything quickly--go! Fear not--I shall live to see thee return-- +and to bless thee for thy faithful service." + +As he uttered these words he smiled;--and with one wistful, yearning +look at him, Valdemar obediently and instantly departed. He left the +house, carrying with him a huge pile of dry brushwood, and with the +air of a man strung up to prompt action, rapidly descended the +sloping path, thick with hardened snow, that led downwards to the +Fjord. On reaching the shore, he looked anxiously about him. There +was nothing in sight but the distant, twinkling lights of Bosekop-- +the Fjord itself was like a black pool,--so still that even the +faintest murmur of its rippling against the bonde's own private pier +could be heard,--the tide was full up. + +Out of the reach of the encroaching waters, high and dry on the +beach, was Guldmar's brig, the Valkyrie, transformed by the fingers +of the frost into a white ship, fantastically draped with threads of +frozen snow and pendent icicles. She was placed on a descending +plank, to which she was attached by a chain and rope pulley,--so +that at any time of the weather or tide she could be moved glidingly +downwards into deep water--and this was what Valdemar occupied +himself in doing. It was a hard task. The chains were stiff with the +frost,--but, after some patient and arduous striving, they yielded +to his efforts, and, with slow clank and much creaking complaint, +the vessel slid reluctantly down and plunged forward, afloat at +last. Holding her ropes, Valdemar sprang to the extreme edge of the +pier and fastened her there, and then getting on board, he untied +and began to hoist the sails. This was a matter of the greatest +difficulty, but it was gradually and successfully accomplished; and +a strange sight the Valkyrie then presented, resting nearly +motionless on the black Fjord,--her stretched and frosted canvas +looking like sheeted pearl fringed with silver,--her masts white +with encrusted snow, and topped with pointed icicles. Leaving her +for a moment, Valdemar quickly returned, carrying the pile of dry +brushwood he had brought,--he descended with this into the hold of +the ship, and returned without it. Glancing once more nervously +about him, he jumped from the deck to the pier--thence to the shore- +-and as he did so a long dark wave rolled up and broke at his feet. +The capricious wind had suddenly arisen,--and a moaning whisper +coming from the adjacent hills gave warning of another storm. + +Valdemar hurriedly retraced his steps back to the house,--his work +with the Valkyrie had occupied him more than an hour--the bonde, his +friend and master, might have died during his absence! There was a +cold sickness at his heart--his feet seemed heavy as lead, and +scarcely able to carry him along quickly enough--to his credulous +and visionary mind, the hovering shadow of death seemed everywhere,- +-in every crackling twig he brushed against,--in every sough of the +wakening gale that rustled among the bare pines. To his intense +relief he found Guldmar lying calmly back among his pillows,--his +eyes well open and clear, and an expression of perfect peace upon +his features. He smiled as he saw his servant enter. + +"All is in readiness?" he asked. + +Valdemar bent his head in silent assent. + +The bonde's face lightened with extraordinary rapture. + +"I thank thee, old friend!" he said in low but glad accents. "Thou +knowest I could not be at peace in any other grave. I have suffered +in thine absence,--the sufferings of the body that, being yet strong +in spite of age, is reluctant to take leave of life. But it is past! +I am as one numbed with everlasting frost,--and now I feel no pain. +And my mind is like a bird that poises for a while over past and +present, ere soaring into the far future. There are things I must +yet say to thee, Valdemar,--give me thy close hearing, for my voice +is weak." + +Svensen drew closer, and stood in the humble attitude of one who +waits a command from some supreme chief. + +"This letter," went on the old man, giving him a folded paper, "is +to the child of my heart, my Thelma. Send it to her--when--I am +gone. It will not grieve her, I hope--for, as far as I could find +words, I have expressed therein nothing but joy--the joy of a +prisoner set free. Tell her, that with all the strength of my +perishing body and escaping soul, I blessed her! . . . her and the +husband in whose arms she rests in safety." He raised his trembling +hands solemnly--"The gods of my fathers and their attendant spirits +have her young life in their glorious keeping!--the joy of love and +purity and peace be on her innocent head for ever!" + +He paused,--the wind wailed mournfully round the house and shook the +lattice with a sort of stealthy clatter, like a forlorn wanderer +striving to creep in to warmth and shelter. + +"Here, Valdemar," continued the bonde presently, in fainter accents, +at the same time handing him another paper. "Here are some scrawled +lines--they are plainly set forth and signed--which make thee master +of this poor place and all that it contains." + +A low, choked sob broke from Valdemar's broad breast--he covered his +face with his hands. + +"Of what avail?" he murmured brokenly. "When my lord departs, I am +alone and friendless!" + +The bonde regarded him with kindly pity. + +"Tears from the stout heart?" he inquired with a sort of grave +wonder. "Weep for life, Valdemar--not for death! Alone and +friendless? Not while the gods are in heaven! Cheer thee--thou art +strong and in vigorous pride of manhood--why should not bright days +come for thee--" He broke off with a gasp--a sudden access of pain +convulsed him and rendered his breathing difficult. By sheer force +of will he mastered the cruel agony, though great drops of sweat +stood on his brow when he at last found voice to continue-- + +"I thought all suffering was past," he said with a heroic smile. +"This foolish flesh and blood of mine dies hard! But, as I was +saying to thee, Valdemar--the farm is thine, and all it holds--save +some few trifles I have set down to be given to my child. There is +little worth in what I leave thee--the soil--is hard and ungrateful- +-the harvest uncertain, and the cattle few. Even the reindeer--didst +thou say they were injured by their fall last night?--I--I forget,. +. . ." + +"No harm has come to them," said Svensen hastily, seeing that the +very effort of thinking was becoming too much for the old man. "They +are safe and unhurt. Trouble not about these things!" + +A strange, unearthly radiance transfigured Guldmar's visage. + +"Trouble is departing swiftly from me," he murmured. + +"Trouble and I shall know each other no more!" His voice died away +inarticulately, and he was silent a little space. Suddenly, and with +a rush of vigor--that seemed superhuman, he raised himself nearly +erect, and pointed outwards with a commanding gesture. + +"Bear me hence!" he cried in ringing tones. "Hence to the mountains +and the sea!" + +With a sort of mechanical, swift obedience, Valdemar threw open the +door--the wind rushed coldly into the house, bringing with it large +feathery flakes of snow. A hand sledge stood outside the porch,--it +was always there during the winter, being much used for visiting the +outlying grounds of the farm,--and to this, Valdemar prepared to +carry the bonde in his herculean arms. But, on being lifted from his +couch, the old man, filled with strange, almost delirious force, +declared himself able to stand,--and, though suffering deadly +anguish at every step, did in truth manage to reach and enter the +sledge, strongly supported by Valdemar. There, however, he fainted-- +and his faithful servant, covering his insensible form with, furs, +thought he was dead. But there was now no time for hesitation,--dead +or living, Olaf Guldmar's will was law to his vassal,--an oath had +been made and must be kept. To propel the sledge down to the Fjord +was an easy matter--how the rest of his duty was accomplished he +never knew. + +He was conscious of staggering blindly onward, weighted with a +heavy, helpless burden,--he felt the slippery pier beneath his feet- +-the driving snow and the icy wind on his face,--but he was as one +in a dream, realizing nothing plainly, till with a wild start, he +seemed to awake--and lo! he stood on the glassy deck of the Valkyrie +with the body of his "King" stretched senseless before him! Had he +brought him there? He could not remember what he had done during the +past few mad minutes,--the earth and sky whirled dizzily around +him,--he could grasp nothing tangible in thought or memory. But +there, most certainly, Olaf Guldmar lay,--his pallid face upturned, +his hair and beard as white as the snow that clung to the masts of +his vessel--his hand clenched on the fur garment that enwrapped him +as with a robe of royalty. + +Dropping on his knees beside him, Valdemar felt his heart--it still +throbbed fitfully and feebly. Watching the intense calm of the +grand, rugged face, this stern, weather-worn sailor--this man of +superstitious and heathen imaginations--gave way to womanish tears-- +tears that were the outcome of sincere and passionate grief. His +love was of an exceptional type,--something like that of a faithful +dog that refuses to leave the grave of its master,--he could +contemplate death for himself with absolute indifference,--but not +for the bonde, whose sturdy strength and splendid physique had +seemed to defy all danger. + +As he knelt and wept unrestrainedly, a soft change, a delicate +transparency, swept over the dark bosom of the sky. Pale pink +streaks glittered on the dusky horizon--darts of light began to +climb upward into the clouds, and to plunge downward into the +water,--the radiance spread, and gradually formed into a broad band +of deep crimson, which burned with a fixed and intense glow--topaz- +like rays flickered and streamed about it, as though uncertain what +fantastic shape they should take to best display their brilliancy. +This tremulous hesitation of varying color did not last long; the +whole jewel-like mass swept together, expanding and contracting with +extraordinary swiftness for a few seconds--then, suddenly and +clearly defined in the sky, a Kingly Crown blazed forth--a Crown of +perfect shape, its five points distinctly and separately outlined +and flashing as with a million rubies and diamonds. The red lustre +warmly tinged the pale features of the dying man, and startled +Valdemar, who sprang to his feet and gazed at that mystic aureola +with a cry of wonder. At the same moment Olaf Guldmar stirred, and +began to speak drowsily without opening his eyes. + +"Dawn on the sea!" he murmured--"The white waves gleam and sparkle +beneath the prow, and the ship makes swift way through the water! It +is dawn in my heart--the dawn of love for thee and me, my Thelma-- +fear not! The rose of passion is a hardy flower that can bloom in +the north as well as in the south, believe me! Thelma--Thelma!" + +He suddenly opened his eyes, and realizing his surroundings, raised +himself half-erect. + +"Set sail!" he cried, pointing with a majestic motion of his arm to +the diadem glittering in the sky. "Why do we linger? The wind favors +us, and the tide sweeps forward--forward! See how the lights beckon +from the harbor!" + +He bent his brows and looked almost angrily at Svensen. "Do what +thou hast to do!" and his tones were sharp and imperious. "I must +press on!" + +An expression of terror, pain, and pity passed over the sailor's +countenance--for one instant he hesitated--the next, he descended +into the hold of the vessel. He was absent for a very little space,- +-but when he returned his eyes were wild as though he had been +engaged in some dark and criminal deed. Olaf Guldmar was still +gazing at the brilliancy in the heavens, which seemed to increase in +size and lustre as the wind rose higher. Svensen took his hand--it +was icy cold, and damp with the dew of death. + +"Let me go with thee!" he implored, in broken accent. "I fear +nothing! Why should I not venture also on the last voyage?" + +Guldmar made a faint but decided sign of rejection. + +"The Viking sails alone to the grave of his fathers!" he with a +serene and proud smile. "Alone--alone! Neither wife, nor child, nor +vassal may have place with him in his ship--even so have the gods +willed it. Farewell, Valdemar! Loosen the ropes and let me go!--thou +servest me ill--hasten--hasten--I am weary of waiting--" + +His head fell back,--that mysterious shadow which darkens the face +of the dying a moment before dissolution, was on him now. + +Just then a strange, suffocating odor began to permeate the air-- +little wreaths of pale smoke made their slow way through the boards +of the deck--and a fierce gust of wind, blowing seawards from the +mountains, swayed the Valkyrie uneasily to and fro. Slowly, and with +evident reluctance, Svensen commenced the work of detaching her from +the pier--feeling instinctively all the while that his master's +dying eyes were fixed upon him. When but one slender rope remained +to be cast off, he knelt by the old man's side said whispered +tremblingly that all waft done. At the same moment a small, stealthy +tongue of red flame curled up through the deck from the hold,--and +Guldmar, observing this, smiled. + +"I see thou hast redeemed thine oath," he said, gratefully pressing +Svensen's hand. "'Tis the last act of thine allegiance,--may the +gods reward thy faithfulness! Peace be with thee!--we shall meet +hereafter. Already the light shines from the Rainbow Bridge,-- +there,--there are the golden peaks of the hills and the stretch of +the wide sea! Go, Valdemar!--delay no longer, for my soul is +impatient--it burns, it struggles to be free! Go!--and--farewell!" + +Stricken to the heart, and full Of anguish,--yet serf-like in his +submission and resignation to the inevitable,--Svensen kissed his +master's hand for the last time. Then, with a sort of fierce sobbing +groan, wrung from the very depths of his despairing grief, he turned +resolutely away, and sprang off the vessel. Standing at the extreme +edge of the pier, he let slip the last rope that bound her,--her +sails filled and bulged outward,--her cordage creaked, she shuddered +on the water--lurched a little--then paused. + +In that brief moment a loud triumphant cry rang through the air. +Olaf Guldmar leaped upright on the deck as though lifted by some +invisible hand, and confronted his terrified servants, who gazed at +him in fascinated amazement and awe. His white hair gleamed like +spun silver--his face was transfigured, and wore a strange, rapt +look of pale yet splendid majesty--the dark furs that clung about +him trailed in regal folds to his feet. + +"Hark!" he cried, and his voice vibrated with deep and mellow +clearness. "Hark to the thunder of the galloping hoofs!--see--see +the glitter of the shield and spear! She comes-ah! Thelma! Thelma!" +He raised his arms as though in ecstacy. "Glory!--joy!--Victory!" + +And, like a noble tree struck down by lightning, he fell--dead! + +Even as he fell, the Valkyrie plunged forward, driven forcibly by a +swooping gust of wind, and scudded out to the Fjord like a wild bird +flying before a tempest,--and, while she thus fled, a sheet of flame +burst through her sides and blazed upwards, mingling a lurid, smoky +glow with the clear crimson radiance of the still brilliant and +crown-like aurora. Following the current, she made swift way across +the dark water in the direction of the island of Seiland, and +presently became a wondrous Ship of Fire! Fire flashed from her +masts--fire folded up her spars and sails in a devouring embrace,-- +fire, that leaped and played and sent forth a million showering +sparks hissingly into the waves beneath. + +With beating heart and straining eyes, Valdemar Svensen crouched on +the pier-head, watching, in mute agony, the burning vessel. He had +fulfilled his oath!--that strange vow that had so sternly bound +him,--a vow that was the outcome of his peculiar traditions and +pagan creed. + +Long ago, in the days of his youth,--full of enthusiasm for the +worship of Odin and the past splendors of the race of the great +Norse warriors,--he had chosen to recognize in Olaf Guldmar a true +descendant of kings, who was by blood and birth, though not in +power, himself a king,--and tracing his legendary history back to +old and half-forgotten sources, he had proved, satisfactorily, to +his own mind, that he, Svensen, must lawfully, and according to old +feudal system, be this king's serf or vassal. And, growing more and +more convinced of this in his dreamy and imaginative mind,--he had +sworn a sort of mystic friendship and allegiance, which Guldmar had +accepted, imposing on him, however, only one absolute command. This +was that he should be given the "crimson shroud" and sea-tomb of his +war-like ancestors,--for the idea that his body might be touched by +strange hands, shut in a close coffin, and laid in the earth to +moulder away to wormy corruption,--had been the one fantastic dread +of the sturdy old pagan's life. And he had taken advantage of +Svensen's devotion and obedience to impress on him the paramount +importance of his solitary behest. + +"Let no hypocritical prayers be chanted over my dumb corpse," he had +said. "My blood would ooze from me at every pore were I touched by +the fingers of a Lutheran! Save this goodly body that has served me +so well from the inferior dust,--let the bright fire wither it, and +the glad sea drown it,--and my soul, beholding its end afar off, +shall rejoice and be satisfied. Swear by the wrath and thunder of +the gods!--swear by the unflinching Hammer of Thor,--swear by the +gates of Valhalla, and in the name of Odin!--and having sworn, the +curse of all these be upon thee if thou fail to keep thy vow!" + +And Valdemar had sworn. Now that the oath was kept--now that his +promised obedience had been carried out to the extremest letter, he +was as one stupefied. Shivering, yet regardless of the snow that +began to fall thickly, he kept his post, staring, staring in drear +fascination across the Fjord, where the Valkyrie drifted, now a mass +of flame blown fiercely by the wind, and gleaming red through the +flaky snow-storm. + +The aurora borealis faded by gradual degrees, and the flaming ship +was more than ever distinctly visible. She was seen from the shore +of Bosekop, by a group of the inhabitants, who, rubbing their dull +eyes, could not decide Whether what they beheld was fire, or a new +phase of the capricious, ever-changing Northern Lights,--the rapidly +descending snow rendering their vision bewildered and uncertain. Any +way, they thought very little about it,--they had had excitement of +another kind in the arrival of Ulrika from Talvig, bringing accounts +of the godly Lovisa Elsland's death. + +Moreover, an English steam cargo-boat, bound for the North Cape, +had, just an hour previously, touched at their harbor, to land a +passenger,--a mysterious woman closely veiled, who immediately on +arrival had hired a sledge, and had bidden the driver to take her to +the house of Olaf Guldmar, an eight miles journey through the +drifted snow. All this was intensely interesting to the good, +stupid, gossiping fisher-folks of Bosekop,--so much so, indeed, that +they scarcely paid any heed to the spectacle of the fiery ship +swaying suggestively on the heaving water, and drifting rapidly +away--away towards the frosted peaks of Seiland. + +Further and further she receded,--the flames around her waving like +banners in a battle--further and further still--till Valdemar +Svensen, from his station on the pier, began to lose sight of her +blazing timbers,--and, starting from his reverie, he ran rapidly +from the shore, up through the garden paths to the farm-house, in +order to gain the summit, and from that point of vantage, watch the +last glimmering spark of the Viking's burial. As he reached the +house, he stopped short and uttered a wild exclamation. There,-- +under the porch hung with sparkling icicles,--stood Thelma!. . . +Thelma,--her face pale and weary, yet smiling faintly,--Thelma with +the glint of her wondrous gold hair escaping from under her hat, and +glittering on the folds of her dark fur mantle. + +"I have come home, Valdemar!" said the sweet, rich, penetrating +voice. "Where is my father?" + +As a man distraught, or in some dreadful dream, Valdemar approached +her--the strangeness of his look and manner filled her with sudden +fear,--he caught her hand and pointed to the dark Fjord--to the spot +where gleamed a lurid waving wreath of flames. + +"Froken Thelma--he is THERE!" he gasped in choked, hoarse tones. +"THERE--where the gods have called him!" + +With a faint shriek of terror, Thelma's blue eyes turned toward the +shadowy water,--as she looked, a long up-twisting snake of fire +appeared to leap from the perishing Valkyrie,--a snake that twined +its glittering coils rapidly round and round on the wind, and as +rapidly sank--down--down--to one glimmering spark which glowed redly +like a floating lamp for a brief space,--and was then quenched for +ever! The ship had vanished! Thelma needed no explanation,--she knew +her father's creed--she understood all. Breaking loose from +Valdemar's grasp, she rushed a few steps forward with arms +outstretched on the bitter, snowy air. + +"Father! father!" she cried aloud and sobbingly. "Wait for me!--it +is I Thelma!--I am coming--Father!" + +The white world around her grew black--and, shuddering like a shot +bird, she fell senseless. + +Instantly Valdemar raised her from the ground, and holding her +tenderly and reverently in his strong arms, carried her, as though +she were a child, into the house. . . clouds darkened--the snow- +storm thickened--the mountain-peaks, stern giants, frowned through +their sleety veils at the arctic desolation of the land below them,- +-and over the charred and sunken corpse of the departed servant of +Odin, sounded the solemn De Profundis of the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + + "The body is the storm; + The soul the star beyond it, in the deep + Of Nature's calm. And, yonder, on the steep, + The Sun of Faith, quiescent, round, and warm!" + +Late on that same night, the pious Ulrika was engaged in prayer. +Prayer with her was a sort of fanatical wrestling of the body as +well as of the soul,--she was never contented unless by means of +groans and contortions she could manage to work up by degrees into a +condition of hysteria resembling a mild epileptic attack, in which +state alone she considered herself worthy to approach the Deity. On +this Occasion she had some difficulty to attain the desired result-- +her soul, as she herself expressed it, was "dry"--and her thoughts +wandered,--though she pinched her neck and arms with the hard +resoluteness of a sworn flagellant, and groaned, "Lord, have mercy +on me a sinner!" with indefatigable earnestness. She was +considerably startled in the midst of these energetic devotions by a +sudden jangling of sledge--bells, and aloud knocking--a knocking +which threatened to break down the door of the small and humble +house she inhabited. Hastily donning the coarse gown and bodice she +had recently taken off in order to administer chastisement to her +own flesh more thoroughly, she unfastened her bolts and bars, and, +lifting the latch, was confronted by Valdemar Svensen, who, nearly +breathless with swift driving through the snow-storm, cried out in +quick gasps-- + +"Come with me--come! She is dying!" + +"God help the man!" exclaimed Ulrika startled. "Who is dying?" + +"She--the Froken Thelma--Lady Errington--she is all alone up there," +and he pointed distractedly in the direction from whence he had +come. "I can get no one in Bosekop,--the women are cowards all,--all +afraid to go near her," and he wrung his hands in passionate +distress. + +Ulrika pulled a thick shawl from the nail where it hung and wrapped +it round her. + +"I am ready," she said, and without more delay, stepped into the +waiting sledge, while Valdemar, with an exclamation of gratitude and +relief, took his place beside her. "But how is it?" she asked, as +the reindeer started off at full speed, "how is it that the bonde's +daughter is again at the Altenfjord?" + +"I know not!" answered Svensen despairingly. "I would have given my +life not to have told her of her father's death." + +"Death!" cried Ulrika. "Olaf Guldmar DEAD! Impossible! Only last +night I saw him in the pride of his strength,--and thought I never +had beheld so goodly a man. Lord, Lord! That he should be DEAD!" + +In a few words Svensen related all that had happened, with the +exception of the fire-burial in the Fjord. + +But Ulrika immediately asked, "Is his body still in the house?" + +Svensen looked at her darkly. "Hast thou never heard Ulrika," he +said solemnly, "that the bodies of men who follow Olaf Guldmar's +creed, disappear as soon as the life departs from them? It is a +mystery--strange and terrible! But this is true--my master's +sailing-ship has gone, and his body with it--and I know not where!" + +Ulrika surveyed him steadily with a slow, incredulous smile. After a +pause, she said-- + +"Fidelity in a servant is good, Valdemar Svensen! I know you well--I +also know that a pagan shrinks from Christian burial. Enough said--I +will ask no more--but if Olaf Guldmar's ship's has gone, and he with +it,--I warn you, the village will wonder." + +"I cannot help it," said Svensen with cold brevity. "I have spoken +truth--he has gone! I saw him die--and then vanish. Believe it or +not as you will, I care not!" + +And he drove on in silence. Ulrika was silent too. + +She had known Valdemar Svensen for many years--he was a man +universally liked and respected at all the harbors and different +fishing-stations of Norway, and his life was an open book to +everybody, with the exception of one page, which was turned down and +sealed,--this was the question of his religious belief. No one knew +what form of faith he followed,--it was only when he went to live +with the bonde, after Thelma's marriage,--that the nature of his +creed was dimly suspected. But Ulrika had no dislike for him on this +account,--her opinions had changed very much during the past few +months. As devout a Lutheran as ever, she began to entertain a +little more of the true spirit of Christianity--that spirit of +gentle and patient tolerance which, full of forbearance towards all +humanity, is willing to admit the possibility of a little good in +everything, even in the blind tenets of a heathen creed. Part of +this alteration in her was due to the gratitude she secretly felt +towards the Guldmar family, for having saved from destruction,-- +albeit unconscious of his parentage,--Sigurd, the child she had +attempted to murder. The hideous malevolence of Lovisa Elsland's +nature had shown her that there MAY be bad Lutherans,--the +invariable tenderness displayed by the Guldmars for her +unrecognized, helpless and distraught son,--had proved to her that +there MAY be good heathens. Hearing thus suddenly of the bonde's +death, she was strangely affected--she could almost have wept. She +felt perfectly convinced that Svensen had made away with his +master's body by some mysterious rite connected with pagan belief,-- +she knew that Guldmar himself, according to rumor, had buried his +own wife in some unknown spot, with strange and weird ceremonials, +but she was inclined to be tolerant,--and glancing at Svensen's +grave, pained face from time to time as she sat beside him in the +sledge, she resolved to ask him no more questions on the subject, +but to accept and support, if necessary, the theory he had so +emphatically set forth,--namely, the mystical evanishment of the +corpse by some supernatural agency. + +As they neared their destination, she began to think of Thelma, the +beautiful, proud girl whom she remembered best as standing on a +little green-tufted hillock with a cluster of pansies in her hand, +and Sigurd--Sigurd clinging fondly to her white skirts, with a +wealth of passionate devotion in his upturned, melancholy, blue +eyes. Ulrika had seen her but once since then,--and that was on the +occasion when, at the threat of Lovisa Elsland, and the command of +the Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy, she had given her Sir Philip +Errington's card, with the false message written on it that had +decoyed her for a time into the wily minister's power. She felt a +thrill of shame as she remembered the part she had played in that +cruel trick,--and reverting once more to the memory of Sigurd, whose +tragic end at the Fall of Njedegorze she had learned through +Valdemar, she resolved to make amends now that she had the chance, +and to do her best for Thelma in her suffering and trouble. + +"For who knows," mused Ulrika, "Whether it is not the Lord's hand +that is extended towards me,--and that in the ministering to the +wants of her whom I wronged, and whom my son so greatly loved, I may +not thereby cancel the past sin, and work out my own redemption!" + +And her dull eyes brightened with hope, and her heart warmed,--she +began to feel almost humane and sympathetic,--and was so eager to +commence her office of nurse and consoler to Thelma that she jumped +out of the sledge almost before it had stopped at the farm gate. +Disregarding Valdemar's assistance, she clambered sturdily over the +drifted heaps of slippery snow that blocked the deserted pathways, +and made for the house,--Valdemar following her as soon as he had +safely fastened up the sledge, which was not his own, he having in +emergency borrowed it from a neighbor. As they approached, a sound +came floating to meet them--a sound which made them pause and look +at each other in surprise and anxiety. Some one was singing,--a +voice full and clear, though with a strange, uncertain quiver in it, +rippled out in wild strains of minor melody on the snow-laden air. +For one moment Ulrika listened doubtedly, and then without more +delay ran hastily forward and entered the house. Thelma was there,-- +sitting at the lattice window which she had thrown wide open to the +icy blast,--she had taken off her cloak and hat, and her hair, +unbound, fell about her in a great, glittering tangle of gold,--her +hands were busy manipulating an imaginary spinning-wheel--her eyes +were brilliant as jewels, but full of pain, terror, and pathos. She +smiled a piteous smile as she became hazily conscious that there +were others in the room--but she went on with her song--a mournful, +Norwegian ditty,--till a sudden break in her voice caused her to put +her hand to her throat and look up perplexedly. + +"That song pleases you?" she asked softly, "I am very glad! Has +Sigurd come home? He wanders so much, poor boy! Father, dear, you +must tell him how wrong it is not to love Philip. Every one loves +Philip--and I--I love him too, but he must never know that." She +paused and sighed. "That is my secret,--the only one I have!" And +she drooped her fair head forlornly. + +Moved by intense pity, such as she had never felt in all her life +before, Ulrika went up and tried to draw her gently from the window. + +"Poor thing, poor thing!" she said kindly. "Come away with me, and +lie down! You mustn't sit here,--let me shut the lattice,--it's +quite late at night, and too cold for you, my dear." + +"Too cold?" and Thelma eyed her wonderingly. "Why, it is summer- +time, and the sun never sets! The roses are all about the walls--I +gave one to Philip yesterday--a little pale rose with a crimson +heart. He wore it, and seemed glad!" + +She passed her hand across her forehead with a troubled air, and +watched Ulrika, who quietly closed the window against the darkness +and desolation of the night. "Are you a friend?" she asked presently +in anxious tones. "I know so many that say they are my friends--but +I am afraid of them all--and I have left them. Do you know why?" and +she laid her hand on Ulrika's rough arm. "Because they tell me my +Philip does not love me any more. They are very cruel to say so, and +I think it cannot be true. I want to tell my father what they say-- +because he will know--and if it is true, then I wish to die,--I +could not live! Will you take me to my father?" + +The plaintive, pleading gentleness of her voice and look brought +more tears into Ulrika's eyes than had ever been forced there by her +devotional exercises,--and the miserable Valdemar, already broken- +hearted by his master's death, turned away and sobbingly cursed his +gods for this new and undeserved affliction. As the Italian +peasantry fall to abusing their saints in time of trouble, even so +will the few remaining believers in Norse legendary lore, upbraid +their fierce divinities with the most reckless hardihood when things +go wrong. There were times when Valdemar Svensen secretly quailed at +the mere thought of the wrath of Odin,--there were others when he +was ready to pluck the great god by the beard and beat him with the +flat of his own drawn Sword, This was his humor at the present +moment, as he averted his gaze from the pitiful sight of his +"King's" fair daughter all desolate and woe-begone, her lovely face +pale with anguish,--her sweet wits wandering, and her whole demeanor +that of one who is lost in some dark forest, and is weary unto +death. She studied Ulrika's rough visage attentively, and presently +noticed the tears on her cheeks. + +"You are crying!" she said in a tone of grave surprise. "Why? It is +foolish to cry even when the heart aches. I have found that,--no one +in the world ever pities you! But perhaps you do not know the +world,--ah! it is very hard and cold;--all the people hide their +feelings, and pretend to be what they are not. It is difficult to +live so,--and I am tired!" + +She rose from her chair, and stood up unsteadily, stretching out her +little cold white hands to Ulrika, who folded them in her own strong +coarse palms. "Yes--I am very tired!" she went on dreamily. "There +seems to be nothing that is true--all is false and unreal--I cannot +understand! But you seem kind,"--here her swaying figure tottered, +and Ulrika drew her more closely to herself--"I think I know you-- +you came with me in the train, did you not? Yes--and the little baby +smiled and slept in my arms nearly all the way." A violent +shuddering seized her, and a quiver of agony passed over her face. + +"Forgive me," she murmured, "I feel ill--very ill--and cold--but do +not mind--I think--I am--dying!" She could scarcely articulate these +last words--she sank forward, fainting, on Ulrika's breast, and that +devout disciple of Luther, forgetting all her former dread of the +"white witch of the Altenfjord"--only remembered that she held in +her arms a helpless woman with all the sorrows and pangs of +womanhood thick upon her,--and in this act of warm heart-expansion +and timely tenderness, it may be that she cleansed her soiled soul +in the sight of the God she worshipped, and won a look of pardon +from the ever-watchful eyes of Christ. + +As far as mundane matters were concerned, she showed herself a woman +of prompt energy and decision. Laying Thelma gently down upon the +very couch her dead father had so lately occupied, she sent the +distracted Valdemar out to gather fresh pine-logs for the fire, and +then busied herself in bringing down Thelma's own little bed from +the upper floor, airing it with methodical care, and making it as +warm and cosy as a bird's-nest. While she was engaged in these +preparations, Thelma regained her consciousness, and began to toss +and tumble and talk deliriously; but with it all she retained the +innate gentleness and patience, and submitted to be undressed, +though she began to sob pleadingly when Ulrika would have removed +her husband's miniature from where it lay pressed against her +bosom,--and taking it in her own hand she kissed and held it fast. +One by one, the dainty articles of delicate apparel she wore were +loosened and laid aside, Ulrika wondering at the embroidered linen +and costly lace, the like of which was never seen in that part of +Norway,--but wondering still more at the dazzling skin she thus +unveiled, a skin as exquisitely soft and pure as the satiny cup of a +Nile lily. + +Poor Thelma sat resignedly watching her own attire taken from her, +and allowing herself to be wrapped in a comfortable loose garment of +white wadmel, as warm as eider-down, which Ulrika had found in a +cupboard upstairs, and which, indeed, had once belonged to Thelma, +she and Britta having made it together. She examined its texture now +with some faint interest--then she asked plaintively-- + +"Are you going to bury me? You must put me to sleep with my mother-- +her name was Thelma, too. I think it is an unlucky name." + +"Why, my dear?" asked Ulrika kindly, as she swept the rich tumbled +hair from the girl's eyes, and began to braid it in one long loose +plait, in order to give her greater ease. + +Thelma sighed. "There is an old song that says--" She broke off. +"Shall I sing it to you?" she asked with a wild look. + +"No, no," said Ulrika. "Not now. By-and-by!" And she nodded her head +encouragingly. "By-and-by! There'll be plenty of time for singing +presently," and she laid her in bed, tucking her up warmly as though +she were a very little child, and feeling strongly inclined to kiss +her. + +"Ah, but I should like to tell you, even if I must not sing--" and +Thelma gazed up anxiously from her pillow--"only my head is so +heavy, and full of strange noises--I do not know whether I can +remember it." + +"Don't try to remember it," and Ulrika stroked the soft cheek, with +a curious yearning sensation of love tugging at her tough +heartstrings. "Try to sleep--that will be better for you!" And she +took from the fire a warm, nourishing drink she had prepared, and +gave it to her. She was surprised at the eagerness with which the +poor girl seized it. + +"Lord help us, I believe she is light-headed for want of food!" she +thought. + +Such indeed was the fact,--Thelma had been several days on her +journey from Hull, and during that time had eaten so little that her +strength had entirely given way. The provisions on board the Black +Polly were extremely limited, and consisted of nothing but dried +fish, hard bread, and weak tea, without milk or sugar,--and in her +condition of health, her system had rebelled against this daily +untempting bill of fare. Ulrika's simple but sustaining beverage +seemed more than delicious to her palate,--she drained it to the +last drop, and, as she returned the cup, a feint color came back to +her cheeks and lips. + +"Thank you," she said feebly. "You are very good to me! And now I do +quite know what I wished to say. It was long ago--there was a queen, +named Thelma, and some one--a great warrior, loved her and found her +fair. But presently he grew tired of her face--and raised an army +against her, and took her throne by force, and crowned himself king +of all her land. And the song says that Queen Thelma wandered on the +mountains all alone till she died--it was a sad song--but I forget-- +the end." + +And her voice trailed off into broken murmurs, her eyes closed, and +she slept. Ulrika watched her musingly and tenderly--wondering what +secret trouble weighed on the girl's mind. When Valdemar Svensen +presently looked in, she made him a warning sign--and, hushing his +footsteps, he went away again. She followed him out into the +kitchen, where he had deposited his load of pine-wood, and began to +talk to him in low tones. He listened,--the expression of grief and +fear deepened on his countenance as he heard. + +"Will she die?" he asked anxiously. + +"Let us hope not," returned Ulrika, "But there is no doubt she is +very ill, and will be worse. What has brought her here, I wonder? Do +you know?" + +Valdemar shook his head. + +"Where is her husband?" went on Ulrika. "He ought to be here. How +could he have let her make such a journey at such a time! Why did he +not come with her? There must be something wrong!" + +Svensen looked, as he felt, completely perplexed and despairing. He +could think of no reason for Thelma's unexpected appearance at the +Altenfjord--he had forgotten all about the letter that had come from +her to her father,--the letter which was still in the house, +unopened. + +"Well, well! It is very strange!" Ulrika sighed resignedly. "But it +is the Lord's will--and we must do our best for her, that's all." +And she began to enumerate a list of things she wanted from Bosekop +for her patient's sustenance and comfort. "You must fetch all +these," she said, "as soon as the day is fairly advanced." She +glanced at the clock--it was just four in the morning. "And at the +same time, you had better call at the doctor's house." + +"He's away," interrupted Valdemar. "Gone to Christiania." + +"Very well," said Ulrika composedly. "Then we must do without him. +Doctors are never much use, any way,--maybe the Lord will help me +instead." + +And she returned to Thelma, who still slept, though her face was now +feverishly flushed and her breathing hurried and irregular. + +The hours of the new day,--day, though seeming night, passed on and +it was verging towards ten o'clock when she woke, raving +deliriously. Her father, Sigurd, Philip, the events of her life in, +London, the fatigues of her journey, were all jumbled fantastically +together in her brain--she talked and sang incessantly, and, like +some wild bird suddenly caged, refused to be quieted. Ulrika was all +alone with her,--Valdemar having gone to execute his commissions in +Bosekop,--and she had enough to do to make her remain in bed. For +she became suddenly possessed by a strong desire to go sailing on +the Fjord--and occasionally it took all Ulrika's strength to hold +and keep her from springing to the window, whose white frosted panes +seemed to have some fatal attraction for her wandering eyes. + +She spoke of things strange and new to her attendant's ears-- +frequently she pronounced the names of Violet Vere and Lady +Winsleigh with an accent of horror,--then she would talk of George +Lorimer and Pierre Duprez,--and she would call for Britta often, +sometimes endearingly--sometimes impatiently. + +The picture of her home in Warwickshire seemed to haunt her,--she +spoke of its great green trees, its roses, its smooth sloping lawns- +-then she would begin to smile and sing again in such a weak, +pitiful fashion that Ulrika,--her stern nature utterly melted at the +sight of such innocent helpless distraction and sorrow,--could do +nothing but fold the suffering creature in her arms, and rock her to +and fro soothingly on her breast, the tears running down her cheeks +the while. + +And after long hours of bewilderment and anguish, Errington's child, +a boy, was born--dead. With a regretful heart, Ulrika laid out the +tiny corpse,--the withered blossom of a promised new delight, a +minature form so fair and perfect that it seemed sheer cruelty on +the part of nature to deny it breath and motion. Thelma's mind still +wandered--she was hardly conscious of anything--and Ulrika was +almost glad that this was so. Her anxiety was very great--she could +not disguise from herself that Thelma's life was in danger,--and +both she and Valdemar wrote to Sir Philip Errington, preparing him +for the worst, and urging him to come at once,--little aware that +the very night the lifeless child was born, was the same on which he +had started from Hull for Christiansund, after his enforced waiting +for the required steamer. There was nothing more to be done now, +thought Ulrika piously, but to trust in the Lord and hope for the +best. And Valdemar Svensen made with his own hands a tiny coffin for +the body of the little dead boy who was to have brought such pride +and satisfaction to his parents, and one day rowed it across the +Fjord to that secret cave where Thelma's mother lay enshrined in +stone. There he left it, feeling sure he had done well. + +Ulrika asked him no questions--she was entirely absorbed in the +duties that devolved upon her, and with an ungrudging devotion +strange to see in her, watched and tended Thelma incessantly, +scarcely allowing herself a minute's space for rest or food. The +idea that her present ministration was to save her soul in the sight +of the Lord, had grown upon her, and was now rooted firmly in her +mind--she never gave way to fatigue or inattention,--every moan, +every restless movement of the suffering girl, obtained her instant +and tender solicitude, and when she prayed now, it was not for +herself but for Thelma. + +"Spare her, good Lord!" she would implore in the hyperbolical +language she had drawn from her study of the Scriptures--"As the +lily among thorns, so is she among the daughters! Cut her not off +root and branch from the land of the living, for her countenance is +comely, and as a bunch of myrrh which hath a powerful sweetness, +even so must she surely be to the heart of her husband! Stretch +forth Thy right hand, O Lord, and scatter healing, for the gates of +death shall not prevail against Thy power!" + +Day after day she poured out petitions such as these, and with the +dogged persistency of a soldier serving Cromwell, believed that they +would be granted,--though day after day Thelma seemed to grow weaker +and weaker. She was still light-headed--her face grew thin and +shadowy,--her hands were almost transparent in their whiteness and +delicacy, and her voice was so faint as to be nearly in-audible. +Sometimes Ulrika got frightened at her appearance, and heartily +wished for medical assistance but this was not to be had. Therefore +she was compelled to rely on the efficacy of one simple remedy,--a +herbal drink to allay fever,--the virtues of which she had been +taught in her youth,--this, and the healing mercies of mother Nature +together with the reserved strength of her own constitution, were +the threads on which Thelma's life hung. + +Time passed on--and yet there was no news from Sir Philip. One +night, sitting beside her exhausted patient, Ulrika fancied she saw +a change on the wan face--a softer, more, peaceful look than had +been there for many days. Half in fear, half in hope, she watched,-- +Thelma seemed to sleep,--but presently her large blue eyes opened +with a calm yet wondering expression in their clear depths. She +turned slightly on her pillows, and smiled faintly. + +"Have I been ill?" she asked. + +"Yes, my dear," returned Ulrika softly, overjoyed, yet afraid at the +girl's returning intelligence. "Very ill. But you feel better now, +don't you?" + +Thelma sighed, and raising her little wasted hand, examined it +curiously. Her wedding and betrothal rings were so loose on her +finger that they would have fallen off had they been held downwards. +She seemed surprised at this, but made no remark. For some time she +remained quiet, steadfastly gazing at Ulrika, and evidently trying +to make out who she was. Presently she spoke again. + +"I remember everything now," she said, slowly. "I am at home, at the +Altenfjord--and I know how I came--and also WHY I came." Here her +lips quivered. "And I shall see my father no more, for he has gone-- +and I am all--all alone in the world!" She paused--then added, "Do +you think I am dying? If so, I am very glad!" + +"Hush my dear!" said Ulrika. "You mustn't talk in that way. Your +husband is coming presently--" she broke off suddenly, startled at +the look of utter despair in Thelma's eyes. + +"You are wrong," she replied wearily. "He will not come--he cannot! +He does not want me any more!" + +And two large tears rolled slowly down her pale cheeks. Ulrika +wondered, but forebore to pursue the subject further, fearing to +excite or distress her,--and contented herself for the present with +attending to her patient's bodily needs. She went to the fire, and +began to pour out some nourishing soup, which she always had there +in readiness,--and while she was thus engaged, Thelma's brain +cleared more and more,--till with touching directness, and a new +hope flushing her face, she asked softly and beseechingly for her +child. "I forgot!" she said simply and sweetly. "Of course I am not +alone any more. Do give me my baby--I am much better--nearly well-- +and I should like to kiss it." + +Ulrika stood mute, taken aback by this demand. She dared not tell +her the truth--she feared its effect on the sensitive mind that had +so lately regained its balance. But while she hesitated, Thelma +instinctively guessed all she strove to hide. + +"It is dead!" she cried. "Dead!--and I never knew!" + +And, burying her golden head in her pillows, she broke into a +passion of convulsive sobbing. Ulrika grew positively desperate at +the sound,--what WAS she to do? Everything seemed to go against her- +-she was inclined to cry herself. She embraced the broken-hearted +girl, and tried to soothe her, but in vain. The long delirium and +subsequent weakness,--combined with the secret trouble on her mind,- +-had deprived poor Thelma of all resisting power, and she wept on +and on in Ulrika's arms till nature was exhausted, and she could +weep no longer. Then she lay motionless, with closed eyes, utterly +drained in body and spirit, scarcely breathing, and, save for a +shivering moan that now and then escaped her, she seemed almost +insensible. Ulrika watched her with darkening, meditative brows,-- +she listened to the rush of the storm-wind without,--it was past +eleven o'clock at night. She began to count on her fingers--it was +the sixteenth day since the birth of the child,--sixteen days +exactly since she had written to Sir Philip Errington, informing him +of his wife's danger--and the danger was not yet past. Thinking over +all that had happened, and the apparent hopelessness of the case, +she suddenly took a strange idea into her head. Retiring to a +distant corner, she dropped on her knees. + +"O Lord, God Almighty!" she said in a fierce whisper, "Behold, I +have been Thy servant until now! I have wrestled with Thee in prayer +till I am past all patience! If Thou wilt not hear my petition, why +callest Thou Thyself good? Is it good to crush the already fallen? +Is it good to have no mercy on the sorrowful? Wilt Thou condemn the +innocent without reason? If so, thou art not the Holy One I +imagined! Send forth Thy power now--now, while there is time! Rescue +her that is lying under the shadow of death--for how has she +offended Thee that she should die? Delay no longer, or how shall I +put my trust in Thee? Send help speedily from Thine everlasting +habitations--or, behold! I do forsake Thee--and my soul shall seek +elsewhere for Eternal Justice!" + +As she finished this extraordinary, half-threatening, and entirely +blasphemous petition, the boisterous gale roared wildly round the +house joining in chorus with the stormy dash of waves upon the +coast--a chorus that seemed to Ulrika's ears like the sound of +fiendish and derisive laughter. + +She stood listening,--a trifle scared--yet with a sort of fanatical +defiance written on her face, and she waited in sullen patience +evidently expecting an immediate answer to her outrageous prayer. +She felt somewhat like a demagogue of the people, who boldly menaces +an all-powerful sovereign, even while in dread of instant execution. +There was a sharp patter of sleet on the window,--she glanced +nervously at Thelma, who, perfectly still on her couch, looked more +like a white, recumbent statue than a living woman. The wind shook +the doors, and whistled shrilly through the crevices,--then, as +though tired of its own wrath, surged away in hoarse murmurs over +the tops of the creaking pines towards the Fjord, and there was a +short, impressive silence. + +Ulrika still waited--almost holding her breath in expectation of +some divine manifestation. The brief stillness grew unbearable.. . . +Hush! What was that! Jingle--jangle--jingle--jangle!--Bells! Sledge +bells tinkling musically and merrily--and approaching swiftly, +nearer--nearer! Now the sharp trotting roofs on the hard snow--then +a sudden slackening of speed--the little metallic chimes rang slower +and yet more slowly, till with a decisive and melodious clash they +stopped! + +Ulrika's heart beat thickly--her face flushed--she advanced to +Thelma's bedside, hoping, fearing,--she knew not what. There was a +tread of firm, yet hurried, footsteps without--a murmur of subdued +voices--a half-suppressed exclamation of surprise and relief from +Valdemar,--and then the door of the room was hastily thrown open, +and a man's tall figure, draped in what seemed to be a garment of +frozen snowflakes, stood on the threshold. The noise startled +Thelma--she opened her beautiful, tired, blue eyes. Ah! what a +divine rapture,--what a dazzling wonder and joy flashed into them, +giving them back their old lustre of sunlight sparkling on azure +sea! She sprang up in her bed and stretched out her arms. + +"Philip!" she cried sobbingly. "Philip! oh my darling! Try--try to +love me again!. . . just a little!--before I die!" + +As she spoke she was clasped to his breast,--folded to his heart in +that strong, jealous, passionate embrace with which we who love, +would fain shield our nearest and dearest from even the shadow of +evil--his lips closed on hers,--and in the sacred stillness that +followed, Ulrika slipped from the room, leaving husband and wife +alone together. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + + "I have led her home, my love, my only friend; + There is none like her, none! + And never yet so warmly ran my blood, + And sweetly on and on, + Calming itself to the long-wished-for end, + Full to the banks, close on the promised good." + + TENNYSON. + + +Britta was in the kitchen, dragging off her snow-wet cloak and fur +mufflers, and crying heartily all the while. The stalwart Svensen +stood looking at her in perplexity, now and then uttering a word of +vague sympathy and consolation, to which she paid not the slightest +heed. The poor girl was tired out, and half-numb with the piercing +cold,--the excitement which had kept her up for days and days, had +yielded to the nervous exhaustion, which was its natural result,-- +and she kept on weeping without exactly knowing why she wept. +Throughout the long and fatiguing journey she had maintained +unflinching energy and perseverance,--undaunted by storm, sleet, and +darkness, she had driven steadily over long miles of trackless snow- +-her instinct had guided her by the shortest and quickest routes-- +she seemed to know every station and village on the way,--she always +managed to obtain relays of reindeer just when they were needed,--in +short, Errington would hardly have been able to reach the Altenfjord +without her. + +He had never realized to its full extent her strong, indomitable, +devoted character, till he saw her hour after hour seated beside him +in the pulkha, her hands tightly gripping the reins of the horned +animals, whose ways she understood and perfectly controlled,--her +bright, bird-like eyes fixed with watchful eagerness on the +bewildering white landscape that opened out incessantly before her. +Her common sense was never at fault--she forgot nothing--and with +gentle but respectful firmness she would insist on Sir Philip's +taking proper intervals of rest and refreshment at the different +farms they passed on their road, though he, eager to press on, +chafed and fretted at every little delay. They were welcomed all +along their route with true Norse hospitality, though the good +country-folk who entertained them could not refrain from +astonishment at the idea of their having undertaken such a journey +at such a season, and appeared to doubt the possibility of their +reaching their destination at all. And now that they had reached it +in safety, Britta's strength gave way. Valdemar Svensen had hastily +blurted out the news of the bonde's death even while she and Sir +Philip were alighting from their sledge--and in the same breath had +told them of Thelma's dangerous illness. What wonder, then, that +Britta sobbed hysterically, and refused to be comforted,--what +wonder that she turned upon Ulrika as that personage approached, in +a burst of unreasonable anger. + +"Oh dear, oh dear!" she cried, "to think that the Froken should be +so ill--almost dying! and have nobody but YOU to attend to her!" + +This, with a vindictive toss of the brown curls. Ulrika winced at +her words--she was hurt, but she answered gently-- + +"I have done my best," she said with a sort of grave pathos, "I have +been with her night and day--had she been a daughter of my own +blood, I know not how I could have served her with more tenderness. +And, surely, it has been a sore and anxious time with me also--for +I, too, have learned to love her!" + +Her set mouth quivered,--and Britta, seeing her emotion, was ashamed +of her first hasty speech. She made an act of contrition at once by +putting her arms round Ulrika's neck and kissing her--a proceeding +which so much astonished that devout servant of Luther, that her +dull eyes filled with tears. + +"Forgive me!" said the impetuous little maiden. "I was very rude and +very unkind! But if you love the Froken, you will understand how I +feel--how I wish I could have helped to take care of her. And oh! +the bonde!"--here she gave way to a fresh burst of tears--"the dear, +good, kind, brave bonde! That he should be dead!--oh! it is too +cruel--too dreadful--I can hardly believe it!" + +Ulrika patted her consolingly on the shoulder, but said nothing--and +Valdemar sighed. Britta sought for her handkerchief, and dried her +eyes--but, after a minute, began to cry again as recklessly as ever. + +"And now"--she gasped--"if the Froken--dies--I will die too. I will- +-you see if I don't! I W-W-WON'T live--without her!" + +And such a big sob broke from her heaving bosom that it threatened +to burst her trimly laced little bodice. + +"She will not die," said Ulrika decisively. "I have had my fears-- +but the crisis is passed. Do not fret, Britta--there is no longer +any danger. Her husband's love will lift the trouble from her heart- +-and strength will return more speedily than it left her." + +And turning a little aside on the pretence of throwing more wood on +the fire, she muttered inaudibly, "O Lord, verily thou hast done +well to grant my just demand! Even for this will I remain Thy +servant for ever!" After this parenthesis, she resumed the +conversation,--Valdemar Svensen sitting silently apart,--and related +all that had happened since Thelma's arrival at the Altenfjord. She +also gave an account of Lovisa Elsland's death,--though Britta was +not much affected by the loss of her grandmother. + +"Dreadful old thing!" she said with a shudder. "I'm glad I wasn't +with her! I remember how she cursed the Froken,--perhaps her curse +has brought all the trouble--if so, it's a good thing she's dead, +for now everything will come right again. I used to fancy she had +some crime to confess,--did she say anything wicked when she was +dying?" + +Ulrika avoided a direct reply to this question. What was the good of +horrifying the girl by telling her that her deceased relative was to +all intents and purposes a murderess? She resolved to let the secret +of old Lovisa's life remain buried with her. Therefore she simply +answered-- + +"Her mind wandered greatly,--it was difficult to hear her last +words. But it should satisfy you, Britta, to know that she passed +away in the fear of the Lord." + +Britta gave a little half-dubious, half-scornful smile. She had not +the slightest belief in the sincerity of her late grandmother's +religious principles. + +"I don't understand people who are so much AFRAID of the Lord," she +said. "They must have done something wrong. If you always do your +best, and try to be good, you needn't fear anything. At least, +that's my opinion." + +"There is the everlasting burning," began Ulrika solemnly. + +"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Britta quite impatiently. "I don't believe +it!" + +Ulrika started back in wonder and dismay. "You don't believe it!" +she said in awed accents. "Are you also a heathen?" + +"I don't know what you mean by a heathen," replied Britta almost +gaily. "But I can't believe that God, who is so good, is going to +everlastingly burn anybody. He couldn't, you know! It would hurt Him +so much to see poor creatures writhing about in flames for ever--we +would not be able to bear it, and I'm quite sure it would make Him +miserable even in heaven. Because He is all Love--He says so,--He +couldn't be cruel!" + +This frank statement of Britta's views presented such a new form of +doctrine to Ulrika's heavy mind that she was almost appalled by it. +God COULDN'T burn anybody for ever--He was too good! What a daring +idea! And yet so consoling--so wonderful in the infinite prospect of +hope it offered, that she smiled,--even while she trembled to +contemplate it. Poor soul! She talked of heathens--being herself the +worst type of heathen--namely, a Christian heathen. This sounds +incongruous--yet it may be taken for granted that those who profess +to follow Christianity, and yet make of God, a being malicious, +revengeful, and of more evil attributes than they possess +themselves,--are as barbarous, as unenlightened, as hopelessly +sunken in slavish ignorance as the lowest savage who adores his +idols of mud and stone. Britta was quite unconscious of having said +anything out of the common--she was addressing herself to Svensen. + +"Where is the bonde buried, Valdemar?" she asked in a low tone. + +He looked at her with a strange, mysterious smile. + +"Buried? Do you suppose his body could mix itself with common earth? +No!--he sailed away, Britta--away--yonder!" + +And he pointed out through the window to the Fjord now, invisible in +the deep darkness. + +Britta stared at him with roundly opened, frightened eyes--her face +paled. + +"Sailed away? You must be dreaming! Sailed away! How could he--if he +was dead?" + +Valdemar grew suddenly excited. "I tell you, he sailed away!" he +repeated in a low, hoarse whisper. "Where is his ship, the Valkyrie? +Try if you can find it anywhere--on sea or land! It has gone, and he +has gone with it--like a king and warrior--to glory, joy, and +victory! Glory--joy--victory!--those were his last words!" + +Britta retreated, and caught Ulrika by the arm. "Is he mad?" she +asked fearfully. + +Valdemar heard her, and rose from his chair, a pained smile on his +face. + +"I am not mad, Britta," he said gently. "Do not be afraid! If grief +for my master could have turned my brain, I had been mad ere this,-- +but I have all my wits about me, and I have told you the truth." He +paused--then added, in a more ordinary tone, "You will need fresh +logs of pine--I will go and bring them in." + +And he went out. Britta gazed after him in speechless wonder. + +"What does he mean?" she asked. + +"What he says," returned Ulrika composedly. "You, like others, must +have known that Olaf Guldmar's creed was a strange one--his burial +has been strange--that is all!" + +And she skillfully turned the conversation, and began to talk of +Thelma, her sorrows and sufferings. Britta was most impatient to see +her beloved "Froken," and quite grudged Sir Philip the long time he +remained alone with his wife. + +"He MIGHT call me, if only for a moment," Britta thought +plaintively. "I do so want to look at her dear face again! But men +are all alike--as long as they've got what THEY want, they never +think of anybody else. Dear me! I wonder how long I shall have to +wait!" So she fumed and fretted, and sat by the kitchen-fire, +drinking hot tea and talking to Ulrika--all the while straining her +ears for the least sound or movement from the adjoining room. But +none came--there was the most perfect silence. At last she could +endure it no longer--and, regardless of Ulrika's remonstrances, she +stole on tip-toe to the closed door that barred her from the sight +of her heart's idol, and turning the handle softly, opened it and +looked in. Sir Philip saw her, and made a little warning sign, +though he smiled. + +He was sitting by the bedside, and in his arms, nestled against his +shoulder, Thelma rested. She was fast asleep. The lines of pain had +disappeared from her sweet face--a smile was on her lips--her breath +came and went with peaceful regularity,--and the delicate hue of a +pale rose flushed her cheeks. Britta stood gazing on this fair sight +till her affectionate little heart overflowed, and the ready tears +dropped like diamonds from her curly lashes. + + "Oh, my dear--my dear!" she whispered in a sort of rapture when +there was a gentle movement,--and two starlike eyes opened like blue +flowers outspreading to the sun. + +"Is that you, Britta?" asked a tender, wondering voice--and with a +smothered cry of ecstacy, Britta sprang to seize the outstretched +hand of her beloved Froken, and cover it with kisses. And while +Thelma laughed with pleasure to see her, and stroked her hair. Sir +Philip described their long drive through the snow, and so warmly +praised Britta's patience, endurance, and constant cheerfulness, +that his voice trembled with its own earnestness, while Britta grew +rosily red in her deep shyness and embarrassment, vehemently +protesting that she had done nothing,--nothing at all to deserve so +much commendation. Then, after much glad converse, Ulrika was +called, and Sir Philip seizing her hand, shook it with such force +and fervor that she was quite overcome. + +"I don't know how to thank you!" he said, his eyes sparkling with +gratitude. "It's impossible to repay such goodness as yours! My wife +tells me how tender and patient and devoted you have been--that even +when she knew nothing else, she was aware of your kindness. God +bless you for it! You have saved her life--" + +"Ah, yes, indeed!" interrupted Thelma gently. "And life has grown so +glad for me again! I do owe you so much." + +"You owe me nothing," said Ulrika in those harsh, monotonous tones +which she had of late learned to modulate. "Nothing. The debt is all +on my side." She stopped abruptly--a dull red color flushed her +face--her eyes dwelt on Thelma with a musing tenderness. + +Sir Philip looked at her in some surprise. + +"Yes," she went on. "The debt is all on my side. Hear me out, Sir +Philip--and you too,--you 'rose of the northern forest', as Sigurd +used to call you! You have not forgotten Sigurd?" + +"Forgotten him?" said Thelma softly. "Never!. . . I loved him too +well!" + +Ulrika's head dropped. "He was my son!" she said. + +There was a silence of complete astonishment. Ulrika paused--then, +as no one uttered a word, she looked up boldly, and spoke with a +sort of desperate determination. + +"You see you have nothing to thank me for," she went on, addressing +herself to Sir Philip, while Thelma, leaning back on her pillows, +and holding Britta's hand, regarded her with a new and amazed +interest. "Perhaps, if you had known what sort of a woman I am, you +might not have liked me to come near--HER." And she motioned towards +Thelma. "When I was young--long ago--I loved--" she laughed +bitterly. "It seems a strange thing to say, does it not? Let it +pass--the story of my love, my sin and shame, need not be told here! +But Sigurd was my child--born in an evil hour--and I--I strove to +kill him at his birth." + +Thelma uttered a faint cry of horror. Ulrika turned an imploring +gaze upon her. + +"Don't hate me!" she said, her voice trembling. "Don't, for God's +sake, hate me! You don't know what I have suffered! I was mad, I +think, at the time--I flung the child in the Fjord to drown;--your +father, Olaf Guldmar, rescued him. I never knew that till long +after;--for years the crime I had committed weighed upon my soul,--I +prayed and strove with the Lord for pardon, but always, always felt +that for me there, was no forgiveness. Lovisa Elsland used to call +me "murderess;" she was right--I was one, or so I thought--till-- +till that day I met you, Froken Thelma, on the hills with Sigurd,-- +and the lad fought with me." She shuddered,--and her eyes looked +wild. "I recognized him--no matter how!. . . he bore my mark upon +him--he was my son,--MINE!--the deformed, crazy creature who yet had +wit enough to love YOU--you, whom then I hated--but now--" + +She stopped and advanced a little closer to Thelma's bedside. + +"Now, there is nothing I would not do for you, my dear!" she said +very gently. "But you will not need me any more. You understand what +you have done for me,--you and your father? You have saved me by +saving Sigurd,--saved ME from being weighed down to hell with the +crime of murder! And you made the boy happy while he lived. All the +rest of my days spent in your service could not pay back the worth +of that good deed. And most heartily do I thank the Lord that he has +mercifully permitted me to tend and comfort you in the hour of +trouble--and, moreover, that He has given me strength to speak and +confess my sin and unworthiness before you ere I depart. For now the +trouble is past, I must remove my shadow from your joy. God bless +you!--and--try to think as kindly as you can of me for--for Sigurd's +sake!" + +Stooping, she kissed Thelma's hand,--and, before any one had time to +speak a word, she left the room abruptly. + +When, in a few minutes, Britta went to look after her, she was gone. +She had departed to her own house in Bosekop, where she obstinately +remained. Nothing would induce her to present herself again before +Sir Philip or Thelma, and it was not till many days after they had +left the Altenfjord that she was once more seen about the village. +And then she was a changed being. No longer harsh or forbidding in +manner, she became humble and gentle,--she ministered to the sick, +and consoled the afflicted--but she was especially famous for her +love of children. All the little ones of the place knew her, and +were attracted by her,--and the time came when Ulrika, white-haired, +and of peaceful countenance, could be seen knitting at her door in +the long summer afternoons surrounded by a whole army of laughing, +chattering, dimpled youngsters, who would play at hide-and-seek +behind her chair, and clamber up to kiss her wrinkled cheeks, +putting their chubby arms round her neck with that guileless +confidence children show only to those whom they feel can appreciate +such flattering attentions. Some of her acquaintance were wont to +say that she was no longer the "godly" Ulrika--but however this +might be, it is certain she had drifted a little nearer to the +Author of all godliness, which--after all,--is the most we dare to +strive for in all our differing creeds. + +It was not long before Thelma began to recover. The day after her +husband arrived, and Ulrika departed, she rose from her bed with +Britta's assistance, and sat by the blazing fire, wrapped in her +white gown and looking very fragile, though very lovely, Philip had +been talking to her for some time, and now he sat at her feet, +holding her hand in his, and, watching her face, on which there was +an expression of the most plaintive and serious penitence. + +"I have been very wicked!" she said, with such a quaint horror of +herself that her husband laughed. "Now I look back upon it all, I +think I have behaved so very badly! because I ought never to have +doubted you, my boy--no--not for all the Lady Winsleighs in the +world. And poor Mr. Neville! he must be so unhappy! But it was that +letter--that letter in your own writing, Philip!" + +"Of course!" he answered soothingly. "No wonder you thought me a +dreadful fellow! But you won't do so again, will you, Thelma? You +will believe that you are the crown and centre of my life--the joy +of all the world to me?" + +"Yes, I will!" she said softly and proudly. "Though it is always the +same, I never do think myself worthy! But I must try to grow very +conceited, and assure myself that I am very valuable! so that then I +shall understand everything better, and be wiser." + +Philip laughed. "Talking of letters," he said suddenly, "here's one +I wrote to you from Hull--it only got here today. Where it has been +delayed is a mystery. You needn't read it--you know everything in it +already. Then there's a letter on the shelf up there addressed in +your writing--it seems never to have been opened." + +He reached it down, and gave it to her. As she took it, her face +grew very sad. + +"It is the one I wrote to my father before I left London," she said. +And her eyes filled with tears. "It came too late!" + +"Thelma," said Sir Philip then, very gently and gravely, "would you +like--can you bear--to read your father's last words to you? He +wrote to you on his death-bed, and gave the letter to Valdemar--" + +"Oh, let me see it!" she murmured half-sobbingly. "Father,--dear +father! I knew he would not leave me without a word!" + +Sir Philip reverently opened the folded paper which Svensen had +committed to his care that morning, and together they read the +bonde's farewell. It ran as follows;-- + +"THELMA, MY BELOVED," + +"The summons I have waited for has come at last, and the doors of +Valhalla are set open to receive my soul. Wonder not that I depart +with joy! Old as I am, I long for youth--the everlasting youth of +which the strength and savor fails not. I have lived long enough to +know the sameness of this world--though there is much therein to +please the heart and eye of a man--but with that roving restlessness +that was born within me, I desire to sail new seas and gaze on new +lands, where a perpetual light shines that knows no fading. Grieve +not for me--thou wilt remember that, unlike a Christian, I see in +death the chiefest glory of life--and thou must not regret that I am +eager to drain this cup of world-oblivion offered by the gods. I +leave thee,--not sorrowfully,--for thou art in shelter and safety-- +the strong protection of thy husband's love defends thee and the +safeguard of thine own innocence. My blessing upon him and thee! +Serve him, Thelma mine, with full devotion and obedience-even as I +have taught thee,--thus drawing from thy womanlife its best measure +of sweetness,--keep the bright shield of thy truth untarnished--and +live so that at the hour of thine own death-ecstasy thou mayest +depart as easily as a song-bird soaring to the sun! I pass hence in +happiness--if thou dost shed a tear thou wrongest my memory,--there +is naught to weep for. Valdemar will give me the crimson shroud and +ocean grave of my ancestors--but question him not concerning this +fiery pomp of my last voyage--he is but a serf, and his soul is +shaken to its very depths by sorrow. Let him be--he will have his +reward hereafter. And now farewell, child of my heart--darling of +mine age--clear mirror in which my later life has brightened to +content! All partings are brief--we shall meet again--thou and I and +Philip--and all who have loved or who love each other,--the journey +heavenwards may be made by different roads, but the end--the glory-- +the immortality is the same! Peace be upon thee and on thy children +and on thy children's children!" + +"Thy father, OLAF GULDMAR." + +In spite of the brave old pagan's declaration that tears would wrong +his memory, they dropped bright and fast from his daughter's eyes as +she kissed again and again the words his dying hand had pencilled,-- +while Errington knew not which feeling gained the greater mastery +over him,--grief for a good man's loss, or admiration for the +strong, heroic spirit in which that good man had welcomed Death with +rejoicing. He could not help comparing the bonde's departure from +this life with that of Sir Francis Lennox, the man of false fashion, +who had let slip his withered soul with an oath into the land of +Nowhere. Presently Thelma grew calmer, and began to speak in hushed, +soft tones-- + +"Poor Valdemar!" she said meditatively. "His heart must ache very +much, Philip!" + +Philip looked up inquiringly. + +"You see, my father speaks of the 'crimson shroud,'" she went on. +"That means that he was buried like many of the ancient Norwegian +sea kings;--he was taken from his bed while dying and placed on +board his own ship to breathe his last; then the ship was set on +fire and sent out to sea. I always knew he wished it so. Valdemar +must have done it all--for I,--I saw the last glimpse of the flames +on the Fjord the night I came home! Oh, Philip!" and her beautiful +eyes rested tenderly upon him, "it was all so dreadful--so desolate! +I wanted--I prayed to die also! The world was so empty--it seemed as +if there was nothing left!" + +Philip, still sitting at her feet, encircled her with both arms, and +drew her down to him. + +"My Thelma!" he whispered, "there IS nothing left--nothing at all +worth living for,--save Love!" + +"Ah! but that," she answered softly, "is everything!" + + * * * * * * + +Is it so, indeed? Is Love alone worth living for--worth dying for? +Is it the only satisfying good we can grasp at among the shifting +shadows of our brief existence? In its various phases and different +workings, is it, after all, the brightest radiance known in the +struggling darkness of our lives? + +Sigurd had thought so,--he had died to prove it. Philip thought so,- +-when once more at home in England with his recovered "treasure of +the golden midnight" he saw her, like a rose refreshed by rain, +raise her bright head in renewed strength and beauty, with the old +joyous lustre dancing in her eyes, and the smile of a perfect +happiness like summer sunshine on her fair face. Lord Winsleigh +thought so;--he was spending the winter in Rome with his wife and +son,--and there among the shadows of the Caesars, his long, social +martyrdom ended, and he regained what he had once believed lost for +ever--his wife's affection. Clara gentle, wistful, with the +softening shadow of a great sorrow and a great repentance in her +once too-brilliant eyes, was a very different Clara to the dashing +"beauty" who had figured so conspicuously in London society. She +clung to her husband with an almost timid eagerness as though she +dreaded losing him--and when he was not with her, she seemed to rely +entirely on her son, whom she watched with a fond, almost melancholy +pride, and who responded to her tenderness though proffered so late, +with the full-hearted frankness of his impulsive, ardent nature. She +wrote to Thelma asking her pardon, and in return received such a +sweet, forgiving, generous letter as caused her to weep for an hour +or more. But she felt she could never again meet the clear regard of +those beautiful, earnest, truthful eyes--never again could she stand +in Thelma's presence, or call her friend--that was all over. Still +Love remained,--a Love, chastened and sad, with drooping wings and a +somewhat doubting smile,--yet it was Love-- + + "Love, that keeps all the choir of lives in chime-- + Love, that is blood--within the veins of time." + +And Love, no matter how abused and maltreated, is a very patient +god, and even while suffering from undeserved wounds, still works +on, doing magical things. So that poor Edward Neville, the forsaken +husband of Violet Vere, when he heard that that popular actress had +died suddenly in America from a fit of delirium tremens brought on +by excessive drinking, was able, by some gentle method known only to +Love and himself, to forget all her frailties--to obliterate from +his memory the fact that he ever saw her on the boards of the +Brilliant Theatre,--and to think of her henceforth only as the wife +he had once adored, and who, he decided in vague, dreamy fashion, +must have died young. Love also laid a firm hand on the vivacious +Pierre Duprez--he who had long scoffed at the jeu d'amour, played it +at last in grave earnest,--and one bright season he introduced his +bride into Parisian society,--a charming little woman, with very +sparkling eyes and white teeth, who spoke French perfectly, though +not with the ''haccent' recommended by Briggs. It was difficult to +recognize Britta in the petite elegante who laughed and danced and +chattered her way through some of the best salons in Paris, +captivating everybody as she went,--but there she was, all the same, +holding her own as usual. Her husband was extremely proud of her--he +was fond of pointing her out to people as something excessively +precious and unique--and saying--"See her! That is my wife! From +Norway! Yes--from the very utmost north of Norway! I love my +country--certainly!--but I will tell you this much--if I had been +obliged to choose a wife among French women--ma foi! I should never +have married!" + +And what of George Lorimer?--the idle, somewhat careless man of +"modern" type, in whose heart, notwithstanding the supposed +deterioration of the age, all the best and bravest codes of old- +world chivalry were written? Had Love no fair thing to offer HIM? +Was he destined to live out his life in the silent heroism of +faithful, unuttered, unrequited, unselfish devotion? Were the +heavens, as Sigurd had said, always to be empty? Apparently not,-- +for when he was verging towards middle age, a young lady besieged +him with her affections, and boldly offered to be his wife any day +he chose to name. She was a small person, not quite five years old, +with great blue eyes and a glittering tangle of golden curls. She +made her proposal one summer afternoon on the lawn at Errington +Manor, in the presence of Beau Lovelace, on whose knee sat her +little brother Olaf, a fine boy a year younger than herself. She had +placed her dimpled arms round Lorimer's neck,--and when she so +confidingly suggested marriage to her "Zordie," as she called him, +she was rubbing her rosy, velvety cheek against his moustache with +much sweet consideration and tenderness. Lovelace, hearing her, +laughed aloud, whereat the little lady was extremely offended. + +"I don't tare!" she said, with pretty defiance. "I do love oo, +Zordie, and I will marry oo!" + +George held her fondly to his breast as though she were some +precious fragile flower of which not a petal must be injured. + +"All right!" he answered gaily, though his voice trembled somewhat, +"I accept! You shall be my little wife, Thelma. Consider it +settled!" + +Apparently she did so consider it, for from that day, whenever she +was asked her name, she announced herself proudly as "Zordie's +'ittle wife, Thelma"--to the great amusement of her father, Sir +Philip, and that other Thelma, on whom the glory of motherhood had +fallen like a new charm, investing both face and form with superior +beauty and an almost divine serenity. But "Zordie's wife" took her +sobriquet very seriously,--so much so, indeed, that by-and-by +"Zordie" began to take it rather seriously himself--and to wonder +whether, after all, marriages, unequal in point of age, might not +occasionally turn out well. He condemned himself severely for the +romanticism of thinking such thoughts, even while he indulged in +them, and called himself "an old fool," though he was in the actual +prime of manhood, and an exceedingly handsome fellow withal. + +But when the younger Thelma came back at the age of sixteen from her +convent school at Arles,--the same school where her mother had been +before her,--she looked so like her mother, so very like, that his +heart began to ache with the old, wistful, passionate longing he +fancied he had stilled for ever. He struggled against this feeling +for a while, till at last it became too strong for him,--and then, +though he told himself it was absurd,--that a man past forty had no +right to expect to win a girl's first love, he grew so reckless that +he determined to risk his fate with her. One day, therefore, he +spoke out, scarcely knowing what he said, and only conscious that +his pulses were beating with abnormal rapidity. She listened to his +tremulous, rather hesitating proposal with exceeding gravity, and +appeared more surprised than displeased. Raising her glorious blue +eyes--eyes in which her mother's noble, fearless look was faithfully +reflected, she said simply, just in her mother's own quaint way-- + +"I do not know why you talk about this at all. I thought it was all +settled long ago!" + +"Settled!" faltered Lorimer astonished,--he was generally self- +possessed, but this fair young lady's perfect equanimity far +surpassed his at that moment--"Settled! My darling! my child--I am +so much older than you are--" + +"I don't like BOYS!" she declared, with stately disdain. "I was your +wife when I was little--and I thought it was to be the same thing +now I am big! I told mother so, and she was quite pleased. But of +course, if you don't want me--" + +She was not allowed to finish her sentence, for Lorimer, with a +sudden rush of joy that almost overpowered him, caught her in his +arms and pressed the first lover's kiss on her pure, innocently +smiling lips. + +"Want you!" he murmured passionately, with a strange sweet mingling +of the past and present in his words. "I have always wanted-- +Thelma!" + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of Thelma, by Marie Corelli + |