his
countenance as he heard.

"Will she die?" he asked anxiously.

"Let us hope not," returned Ulrika, "But there is no doubt she is very
ill, and will be worse. What has brought her here, I wonder? Do you
know?"

Valdemar shook his head.

"Where is her husband?" went on Ulrika. "He ought to be here. How could
he have let her make such a journey at such a time! Why did he not come
with her? There must be something wrong!"

Svensen looked, as he felt, completely perplexed and despairing. He
could think of no reason for Thelma's unexpected appearance at the
Altenfjord--he had forgotten all about the letter that had come from her
to her father,--the letter which was still in the house, unopened.

"Well, well! It is very strange!" Ulrika sighed resignedly. "But it is
the Lord's will--and we must do our best for her, that's all." And she
began to enumerate a list of things she wanted from Bosekop for her
patient's sustenance and comfort. "You must fetch all these," she said,
"as soon as the day is fairly advanced." She glanced at the clock--it
was just four in the morning. "And at the same time, you had better call
at the doctor's house."

"He's away," interrupted Valdemar. "Gone to Christiania."

"Very well," said Ulrika composedly. "Then we must do without him.
Doctors are never much use, any way,--maybe the Lord will help me
instead."

And she returned to Thelma, who still slept, though her face was now
feverishly flushed and her breathing hurried and irregular.

The hours of the new day,--day, though seeming night, passed on and it
was verging towards ten o'clock when she woke, raving deliriously. Her
father, Sigurd, Philip, the events of her life in, London, the fatigues
of her journey, were all jumbled fantastically together in her
brain--she talked and sang incessantly, and, like some wild bird
suddenly caged, refused to be quieted. Ulrika was all alone with
her,--Valdemar having gone to execute his commissions in Bosekop,--and
she had enough to do to make her remain in bed. For she became suddenly
possessed by a strong desire to go sailing on the Fjord--and
occasionally it took all Ulrika's strength to hold and keep her from
springing to the window, whose white frosted panes seemed to have some
fatal attraction for her wandering eyes.

She spoke of things strange and new to her attendant's ears--frequently
she pronounced the names of Violet Vere and Lady Winsleigh with an
accent of horror,--then she w