Thelma Part 17

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 appet.i.tes. 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.s 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 ange!_" 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 n.o.ble 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 pa.s.sed. 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 suns.h.i.+ne, 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 n.o.ble 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 pa.s.s. 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.

"G.o.d 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.

"h.e.l.lo, 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.