"Think what you please!" exclaimed Duprèz, 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 Duprèz; "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.