into the garden like a ghost, for I never heard you coming."

"So I imagine!" retorted Errington, with, an effort to be sarcastic, in
which he utterly failed as he met his friend's eyes,--then after a
slight and somewhat embarrassed pause he added more mildly! "Duprez
cannot get on very fast,--his wound still bleeds, and he feels rather
faint now and then. I don't think we bandaged him up properly, and I
came on to see if Britta could prepare something for him."

"But you will not need to ask Britta," said Thelma quietly, with a
pretty air of authority, "for I shall myself do all for Mr. Duprez. I
understand well how to cure his wound, and I do think he will like me as
well as Britta." And, hearing footsteps approaching, she looked out at
the window. "Here they come!" she exclaimed. "Ah, poor Monsieur Pierre!
he does look very pale! I will go and meet them."

And she hurried from the room, leaving the two young men together.
Errington threw himself into Olaf Gueldmar's great arm-chair, with a
slight sigh.

"Well?" said Lorimer inquiringly.

"Well!" he returned somewhat gruffly.

Lorimer laughed, and crossing the room, approached him and clapped a
hand on his shoulder.

"Look here, old man!" he said earnestly, "don't be a fool! I know that
'love maketh men mad,' but I never supposed the lunacy would lead you to
the undesirable point of distrusting your friend,--your true friend,
Phil,--by all the Gods of the past and present!"

And he laughed again,--a little huskily this time, for there was a
sudden unaccountable and unwished-for lump in his throat, and a moisture
in his eyes which he had not bargained for. Philip looked up,--and
silently held out his hand, which Lorimer as silently clasped. There was
a moment's hesitation, and then the young baronet spoke out manfully.

"I'm ashamed of myself, George! I really am! But I tell you, when I came
in and saw you two standing there,--you've no idea what a picture you
made! . . . by Jove! . . . I was furious!" And he smiled. "I suppose I was
jealous!"

"I suppose you were!" returned Lorimer amusedly.

"Novel sensation, isn't it? A sort of hot, prickly,
'have-at-thee-villain' sort of thing; must be frightfully exhausting!
But why you should indulge this emotion at _my_ expense is what I
cannot, for the life of me, understand!"

"Well," murmured Errington, rather abashed, "you see, her hands were in
yours--"

"As they will be again, and yet again, I trust!" said