you are blind--blind as a bat, old man! Take my
advice,--don't lose any more time about it. Make the 'king's daughter of
Norroway' happy, . . ." and a brief sigh escaped him. "You are the man to
do it. I am surprised at your density; Sigurd, the lunatic, has more
perception. He sees which way the wind blows,--and that's why he's so
desperately unhappy. He thinks--and thinks rightly too--that he will
lose his 'beautiful rose of the northern forest,' as he calls her,--and
that you are to be the robber. Hence his dislike to you. Dear me!" and
Lorimer lit a cigarette and puffed at it complacently. "It seems to me
that my wits are becoming sharper as I grow older, and that yours, my
dear boy,--pardon me! . . . are getting somewhat blunted, otherwise you
would certainly have perceived--" he broke off abruptly.

"Well, go on!" exclaimed Philip eagerly, with flashing eyes. "Perceived
what?"

Lorimer laughed. "That the boat containing your Sun-empress is coming
along very rapidly, old fellow, and that you'd better make haste to
receive her!"

This was the fact, and Duprez had risen from his chair and was waving
his French newspaper energetically to the approaching visitors.
Errington hastened to the gangway with a brighter flush than usual on
his handsome face, and his heart beating with a new sense of
exhilaration and excitement. If Lorimer's hints had any foundation of
truth--if Thelma loved him ever so little--how wild a dream it seemed!
. . . why not risk his fate? He resolved to speak to her that very day
if opportunity favored him,--and, having thus decided, felt quite
masterful and heroic about it.

This feeling of proud and tender elation increased when Thelma stepped
on deck that morning and laid her hands in his. For, as he greeted her
and her father, he saw at a glance that she was slightly changed. Some
restless dream must have haunted her--or his hurried words beneath the
porch, when he parted from her the previous evening, had startled her
and troubled her mind. Her blue eyes were no longer raised to his in
absolute candor,--her voice was timid, and she had lost something of her
usual buoyant and graceful self-possession. But she looked lovelier than
ever with that air of shy hesitation and appealing sweetness. Love had
thrown his network of light about her soul and body till, like Keats's
"Madeleine,"

"She seemed a splendid angel newly drest
Save wings, for heaven!"

As soon as the Gueldmars wer