over her--"there was something else--something that made
me very angry--so angry!"--and here she raised her eyes with a gravely
penitent air--"Mr. Lorimer, I do not think I have ever had so bad and
fierce a temper before!"

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Lorimer, with a broad smile. "You alarm me,
Miss Gueldmar! I had no idea you were a 'bad, fierce' person,--I shall
get afraid of you--I shall, really!"

"Ah, you laugh!" and she spoke half-reproachfully. "You will not be
serious for one little moment!"

"Yes I will! Now look at me," and he assumed a solemn expression, and
drew himself up with an air of dignity. "I am all attention! Consider me
your father-confessor. Miss Gueldmar, and explain the reason of this
'bad, fierce' temper of yours."

She peeped at him shyly from under her silken lashes.

"It is more dreadful than you think," she answered in a low tone. "Mr.
Dyceworthy asked me to marry him."

Lorimer's keen eyes flashed with indignation. This was beyond a
jest,--and he clenched his fist as he exclaimed--

"Impudent donkey! What a jolly good thrashing he deserves! . . . and I
shouldn't be surprised if he got it one of these days! And so, Miss
Gueldmar,"--and he studied her face with some solicitude--"you were very
angry with him?"

"Oh yes!" she replied, "but when I told him he was a coward, and that he
must go away, he said some very cruel things--" she stopped, and blushed
deeply; then, as if seized by some sudden impulse, she laid her small
hand on Lorimer's and said in the tone of an appealing child, "you are
very good and kind to me, and you are clever,--you know so much more
than I do! You must help me,--you will tell me, will you not? . . . if it
is wrong of me to like you all,--it is as if we had known each other a
long time and I have been very happy with you and your friends. But you
must teach me to behave like the girls you have seen in London,--for I
could not bear that Sir Philip should think me wicked!"

"Wicked!" and Lorimer drew a long breath. "Good heavens! If you knew
what Phil's ideas about you are, Miss Gueldmar--"

"I do not wish to know," interrupted Thelma steadily. "You must quite
understand me,--I am not clever to hide my thoughts, and--and--, _you_
are glad when you talk sometimes to Sir Philip, are you not?" He nodded,
gravely studying every light and shadow on the fair, upturned, innocent
face.

"Yes!" she continued with some eagerness, "I see you are! Well, it is
the same