thing in a low tone, and the _bonde_ would have again
interfered, but Thelma shook her head, smiled and rose from her seat at
table.

"Anything to soothe her, poor soul!" she whispered, as she left
Errington's side and advanced towards Lovisa till she was within reach
of the old woman's hand. She looked like some grand white angel, who had
stepped down from a cathedral altar, as she stood erect and stately with
a gravely pitying expression in her lovely eyes, confronting the
sable-draped, withered, leering hag, who fixed upon her a steady look of
the most cruel and pitiless hatred.

"Daughter of Satan!" said Lovisa then, in intense piercing tones that
somehow carried with them a sense of awe and horror. "Creature, in whose
veins the fire of hell burns without ceasing,--my _curse_ upon you! My
curse upon the beauty of your body--may it grow loathsome in the sight
of all men! May those who embrace you, embrace misfortune and ruin!--may
love betray you and forsake you! May your heart be broken even as mine
has been!--may your bridal bed be left deserted!--may your children
wither and pine from their hour of birth! Sorrow track you to the
grave!--may your death be lingering and horrible! God be my witness and
fulfill my words!"

And, raising her arms with wild gesture, she turned and left the house.
The spell of stupefied silence was broken with her disappearance. Old
Gueldmar prepared to rush after her and force her to retract her evil
speech,--Errington was furious, and Britta cried bitterly. The lazy
Lorimer was excited and annoyed.

"Fetch her back," he said, "and I'll dance upon her!"

But Thelma stood where the old woman had left her--she smiled faintly,
but she was very pale. Errington approached her,--she turned to him and
stretched out her hands with a little appealing gesture.

"My friend," she said softly, "do you think I deserve so many curses? Is
there something about me that is evil?"

What Errington would have answered is doubtful,--his heart beat
wildly--he longed to draw those little hands in his own, and cover them
with passionate kisses,--but he was intercepted by old Gueldmar, who
caught his daughter in his arms and hugged her closely, his silvery
beard mingling with the gold of her rippling hair.

"Never fear a wicked tongue, my bird!" said the old man fondly. "There
is naught of harm that would touch thee either on earth or in
heaven,--and a foul-mouthed curse must roll off thy soul like water