child, because I
know, from my own past experience, that love is a rapid impulse--a flame
ignited in a moment. Yes, I know that well!" He paused, and his voice
trembled a little, but he soon steadied it and went on--"I think,
however, my lad, that you have been a little hasty,--for instance, have
you thought what your English friends and relatives will say to your
marrying a farmer's daughter who,--though she has the blood of kings in
her veins,--is, nevertheless, as this present world would judge, beneath
you in social standing? I say, have you thought of this?"

Philip smiled proudly. "Certainly, sir, I have _not_ thought of any such
trifle as the opinion of society,--if that is what you mean. I have no
relatives to please or displease--no friends in the truest sense of the
world except Lorimer. I have a long list of acquaintances
undoubtedly,--infinite bores, most of them,--and whether they approve or
disapprove of my actions is to me a matter of profound indifference."

"See you!" said the _bonde_ firmly and earnestly. "It would be an ill
day for me if I gave my little one to a husband who might--mind! I only
say _might_,--in the course of years, regret having married her."

"Regret!" cried Philip excitedly, then quieting down, he said gently.
"My good friend, I do not think you understand me. You talk as if Thelma
were beneath _me_. Good God! It is _I_ who am infinitely beneath _her_!
I am utterly unworthy of her in every way, I assure you--and I tell you
so frankly. I have led a useless life, and a more or less selfish one. I
have principally sought to amuse and interest myself all through it.
I've had my vices to, and have them still. Beside Thelma's innocent
white soul, mine looks villainous! But I can honestly say I never knew
what love was till I saw her,--and now--well! I would give my life away
gladly to save her from even a small sorrow."

"I believe you--I thoroughly believe you!" said Gueldmar. "I see you love
the child. The gods forbid that I should stand in the way of her
happiness! I am getting old, and 'twas often a sore point with me to
know what would become of my darling when I was gone,--for she is fair
to look upon, and there are many human wolves ready to devour such
lambs. Still, my lad, you must learn all. Do you know what is said of me
in Bosekop?"

Errington smiled and nodded in the affirmative.

"You do?" exclaimed the old man, somewhat surprised. "You know they say
I killed my wife--