--his eyes ached with restrained tears. He knew the
melody well--and up before him rose the dear solemnity of the Altenguard
hills, the glittering expanse of the Fjord, the dear old farmhouse
behind its cluster of pines. Again he saw Thelma as he had seen her
first--clad in her plain white gown, spinning in the dark embrasure of
the rose-wreathed window--again the words of the self-destroyed Sigurd
came back to his recollection, "Good things may come for others--but for
you the heavens are empty!" He looked at her now,--Philip's wife--in all
the splendor of her rich attire;--she was lovelier than ever, and her
sweet nature was as yet unspoilt by all the wealth and luxury around
her.

"Good God! what an _inferno_ she has come into!" he thought vaguely.
"How will she stand these people when she gets to know them? The Van
Clupps, the Rush-Marvelles, and others like them,--and as for Clara
Winsleigh--" He turned to study her ladyship attentively. She was
sitting quite close to the piano--her eyes were cast down, but the
rubies on her bosom heaved quickly and restlessly, and she furled and
unfurled her fan impatiently. "I shouldn't wonder," he went on
meditating gravely, "if she doesn't try and make some mischief somehow.
She looks it."

At that moment Thelma ceased singing, and the room rang with applause.
Herr Machtenklinken was overcome with admiration.

"It is a voice of heaven!" he said in a rapture.

The fair singer was surrounded with people.

"I hope," said Mrs. Van Clupp, with her usual ill-bred eagerness to
ingratiate herself with the titled and wealthy, "I hope you will come
and see me, Lady Errington? I am at home every Friday evening to my
friends."

"Oh yes," said Thelma, simply. "But I am not your friend yet! When we do
know each other better I will come. We shall meet each other many times
first,--and then you will see if you like me to be your friend. Is it
not so?"

A scarcely concealed smile reflected itself on the faces of all who
heard this naive, but indefinite acceptance of Mrs. Van Clupp's
invitation, while Mrs. Van Clupp herself was somewhat mortified, and
knew not what to answer. This Norwegian girl was evidently quite
ignorant of the usages of polite society, or she would at once have
recognized the fact that an "at home" had nothing whatsoever to do with
the obligations of friendship--besides, as far as friendship was
concerned, had not Mrs. Van Clupp tabooed several of her own
blood-rel