Thelma

"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 pa.s.sion? for all pa.s.sion _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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 cl.u.s.tering picturesque islands,--while the inhabitants of every little farm and hamlet on the sh.o.r.es, 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 pa.s.s 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 a.s.sure 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 sh.o.r.e 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 la.s.sie 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, _la.s.sies_?--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 superst.i.tion 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 a.s.sured 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."