at the Altenfjord!"

CHAPTER XXV.

"Le temps ou nous nous sommes aimes n'a guere dure, jeune fille;
il a passe comme un coup de vent!"
_Old Breton Ballad._

The next morning dawned, cold and dismal. A dense yellow fog hung over
the metropolis like a pall--the street lamps were lighted, but their
flare scarcely illumined the thoroughfares, and the chill of the
snow-burdened air penetrated into the warmest rooms, and made itself
felt even by the side of the brightest fires. Sir Philip woke with an
uncomfortable sense of headache and depression, and grumbled,--as surely
every Englishman has a right to grumble, at the uncompromising
wretchedness of his country's winter climate. His humor was not improved
when a telegram arrived before breakfast, summoning him in haste to a
dull town in one of the Midland counties, on pressing business connected
with his candidature for Parliament.

"What a bore!" he exclaimed, showing the missive to his wife. "I _must_
go,--and I shan't be able to get back tonight. You'll be all alone,
Thelma. I wish you'd go to the Winsleighs!"

"Why?" said Thelma quietly. "I shall much prefer to be here. I do not
mind, Philip. I am accustomed to be alone."

Something in her tone struck him as particularly sad, and he looked at
her intently.

"Now, my darling," he said suddenly, "if this Parliamentary bother is
making you feel worried or vexed in any way, I'll throw it all up--by
Jove, I will!" And he drew her into his warm embrace. "After all" he
added, with a laugh, "what does it matter! The country can get on
without me!"

Thelma smiled a little.

"You must not talk so foolishly, Philip," she said tenderly. "It is
wrong to begin a thing of importance, and not go through with it. And I
am not worried or vexed at all. What would people say of me if I, your
wife, were, for my own selfish comfort and pleasure of having you always
with me, to prevent you from taking a good place among the men of your
nation? Indeed, I should deserve much blame! And so, though it is a
gloomy day for you, poor boy,--you must go to this place where you are
wanted, and I shall think of you all the time you are gone, and shall be
so happy to welcome you home to-morrow!"

And she kissed and clung to him for a moment in silence. All that day
Philip was haunted by the remembrance of the lingering tenderness of her
farewell embrace. By ten o'clock he was gone, ta