er--"

"Oh no, I don't! I mean that he loves her as brothers often love other
people's sisters--his affection is by no means fraternal--if it were
only _that_--"

"I see!" and Philip's eyes filled with a look of grave compassion. "Poor
fellow! I understand his hatred of me now. Good Heavens! how he must
suffer! I forgive him with all my heart. But--I say, Thelma has no idea
of this!"

"Of course not. And you'd better not tell her. What's the good of making
her unhappy?"

"But how did _you_ learn it?" inquired Philip, with a look of some
curiosity at his friend.

"Oh, I!" and Lorimer laughed carelessly; "I was always an observing sort
of fellow--fond of putting two and two together and making four of them,
when I wasn't too exhausted and the weather wasn't too hot for the
process. Sigurd's rather attached to me--indulges me with some specially
private ravings now and then--I soon found out his secret, though I
believe the poor little chap doesn't understand his own feelings
himself."

"Well," said Errington thoughtfully, "under the circumstances you'd
better not mention this affair of the Fall to Gueldmar. It will only vex
him. Sigurd won't try such a prank again."

"I'm not so sure of that," replied Lorimer; "but you know enough now to
be on your guard with him." He paused and looked up with a misty
softness in his frank blue eyes--then went on in a subdued tone--"When I
saw you on the edge of that frightful chasm, Phil--" He broke off as if
the recollection were too painful, and exclaimed suddenly--"Good God! if
I had lost you!"

Errington clapped one hand on his shoulder.

"Well! What if you had?" he asked almost mirthfully, though there was a
suspicious tremble in his ringing voice.

"I should have said with Horatio, 'I am more an antique Roman than a
Dane,'--and gone after you," laughed Lorimer. "And who knows what a
jolly banquet we might not have been enjoying in the next world by this
time? If I believe in anything at all, I believe in a really agreeable
heaven--nectar and ambrosia, and all that sort of thing, and Hebes to
wait upon you."

As he spoke they reached the sheltering hut, where Gueldmar, Duprez, and
Macfarlane were waiting rather impatiently for them.

"Where's Sigurd?" cried the _bonde_.

"Gone for a ramble on his own account," answered Errington readily. "You
know his fancies!"

"I wish his fancies would leave him," grumbled Gueldmar. "He promised to
light a fire and spread the m