eas in order. Errington
studied him with a gentle forbearance; inwardly he was very curious to
know whether this Sigurd had any connection with the Gueldmars, 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.