"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.