Thelma
Lord another day! In the meantime one little word--_the_ word--will
suffice me,--yea, even one little smile,--to show me that you understand
my words,--that you love me"--here he clasped his plump hands together
in flabby ecstasy--"even as you are loved!"
His absurd attitude,--the weak, knock-kneed manner in which his clumsy
legs seemed, from the force of sheer sentiment, to bend under his
weighty body, and the inanely amatory expression of his puffy
countenance, would have excited most women to laughter,--and Thelma was
perfectly conscious of his utterly ridiculous appearance, but she was
too thoroughly indignant to take the matter in a humorous light.
"Love you!" she exclaimed, with a movement of irrepressible loathing.
"You must be mad! I would rather die than marry you!"
Mr. Dyceworthy's face grew livid and his little eyes sparkled
vindictively,--but he restrained his inward rage, and merely smiled,
rubbing his hands softly one against the other.
"Let us be calm!" he said soothingly. "Whatever we do, let us be calm!
Let us not provoke one another to wrath! Above all things, let us, in a
spirit of charity and patience, reason out this matter without undue
excitement. My ears have most painfully heard your last words, which,
taken literally, might mean that you reject my honorable offer. The
question is, _do_ they mean this? I cannot,--I will not believe that you
would foolishly stand in the way of your own salvation,"--and he shook
his head with doleful gentleness. "Moreover, Froeken Thelma, though it
sorely distresses me to speak of it,--it is my duty, as a minister of
the Lord, to remind you that an honest marriage,--a marriage of virtue
and respectability such as I propose, is the only way to restore your
reputation,--which, alas! is sorely damaged, and--"
Mr. Dyceworthy stopped abruptly, a little alarmed, as she suddenly cast
aside the barrier of roses and advanced toward him, her blue eyes
blazing.
"My reputation!" she said haughtily. "Who speaks of it?"
"Oh dear, dear me!" moaned the minister pathetically. "Sad! . . . very
sad to see so ungovernable a temper, so wild and untrained a
disposition! Alas, alas! how frail we are without the Lord's
support,--without the strong staff of the Lord's mercy to lean upon! Not
I, my poor child, not I, but the whole village speaks of you; to you the
ignorant people attribute all the sundry evils that of late have fallen
sorely upon them,--bad harvests, ill-luck with the fishing, poverty,
sickness,"--here Mr. Dyceworthy pressed the tips of his fingers
delicately together, and looked at her with a benevolent
compassion,--"and they call it witchcraft,--yes! strange, very strange!
But so it is,--ignorant as they are, such ignorance is not easily
enlightened,--and though I," he sighed, "have done my poor best to
disabuse their minds of the suspicions against you, I find it is a
matter in which I, though a humble mouthpiece of the Gospel, am
powerless--quite powerless!"
She relaxed her defiant attitude, and moved away from him; the shadow of
a smile was on her lips.
"It is not my fault if the people are foolish," she said coldly; "I have
never done harm to any one that I know of." And turning abruptly, she
seemed about to enter the house, but the minister dexterously placed
himself in her way, and barred her passage.
"Stay, oh, stay!" he exclaimed with unctuous fervor. "Pause, unfortunate
girl, ere you reject the strong shield and buckler that the Lord has, in
His great mercy, offered you, in my person! For I must warn you,--Froeken
Thelma, I must warn you seriously of the danger you run! I will not pain
you by referring to the grave charges brought against your father, who
is, alas! in spite of my spiritual wrestling with the Lord for his sake,
still no better than a heathen savage; no! I will say nothing of this.
But what,--what shall I say,"--here he lowered his voice to a tone of
mysterious and weighty reproach,--"what shall I say of your most
unseemly and indiscreet companionship with these worldly young men who
are visiting the Fjord for their idle pastime? Ah dear, dear! This is
indeed a heavy scandal and a sore burden to my soul,--for up to this
time I have, in spite of many faults in your disposition, considered you
were at least of a most maidenly and decorous deportment,--but now--now!
to think that you should, of your own free will and choice, consent to
be the plaything of this idle stroller from the wicked haunts of
fashion,--the hour's toy of this Sir Philip Errington! Froeken Thelma, I
would never have believed it of you!" And he drew himself up with
ponderous and sorrowful dignity.
A burning blush had covered Thelma's face at the mention of Errington's
name, but it soon faded, leaving her very pale. She changed her position
so that she confronted Mr. Dyceworthy,--her clear blue eyes regarded him
steadfastly.
"Is this what is said of me?" she asked calmly.
"It is,--it is, most unfortunately!" returned the minister, shaking his
bullet-like head a great many times; then, with a sort of elephantine
cheerfulness, he added, "but what matter? There is time to remedy these
things. I am willing to set myself as a strong barrier against the evil
noises of rumor! Am I selfish or ungenerous? The Lord forbid it! No
matter how _I_ am compromised, no matter how _I_ am misjudged,--I am
still willing to take you as my lawful wife Froeken Thelma,--but," and
here he shook his forefinger at her with a pretended playfulness, "I
will permit no more converse with Sir Philip Errington; no, no! I cannot
allow it! . . . I cannot, indeed!"
She still looked straight at him,--her bosom rose and fell rapidly with
her passionate breath, and there was such an eloquent breath of scorn in
her face that he winced under it as though struck by a sharp scourge.
"You are not worth my anger!" she said slowly, this time without a
tremor in her rich voice. "One must have something to be angry with, and
you--you are nothing! Neither man nor beast,--for men are brave, and
beasts tell no lies! Your wife! I!" and she laughed aloud,--then with a
gesture of command, "Go!" she exclaimed, "and never let me see your face
again!"
The clear scornful laughter,--the air of absolute authority with which
she spoke,--would have stung the most self-opinionated of men, even
though his conscience were enveloped in a moral leather casing of
hypocrisy and arrogance. And, notwithstanding his invariable air of
mildness, Mr. Dyceworthy had a temper. That temper rose to a white heat
just now,--every drop of blood receded from his countenance,--and his
soft hands clenched themselves in a particularly ugly and threatening
manner. Yet he managed to preserve his suave composure.
"Alas, alas!" he murmured. "How sorely my soul is afflicted to see you
thus, Froeken! I am amazed--I am distressed! Such language from your
lips! oh fie, fie! And has it come to this! And must I resign the hope I
had of saving your poor soul? and must I withdraw my spiritual
protection from you?" This he asked with a suggestive sneer of his prim
mouth,--and then continued, "I must--alas, I must! My conscience will
not permit me to do more than pray for you! And as is my duty, I shall,
in a spirit of forbearance and charity, speak warningly to Sir Philip
concerning--"
But Thelma did not permit him to finish his sentence. She sprang forward
like a young leopardess, and with a magnificent outward sweep of her arm
motioned him down the garden path.
"Out of my sight,--_coward_!" she cried, and then stood waiting for him
to obey her, her whole frame vibrating with indignation like a harp
struck too roughly. She looked so terribly beautiful, and there was such
a suggestive power in that extended bare white arm of hers, that the
minister, though quaking from head to heel with disappointment and
resentment, judged it prudent to leave her.
"Certainly, I will take my departure, Froeken!" he said meekly, while his
teeth glimmered wolfishly through his pale lips, in a snarl more than a
smile. "It is best you should be alone to recover yourself--from
this--this undue excitement! I shall not repeat my--my--offer; but I am
sure your good sense will--in time--show you how very unjust and hasty
you have been in this matter--and--and you will be sorry! Yes, indeed! I
am quite sure you will be sorry! I wish you good day, Froeken Thelma!"
She made him no reply, and he turned from the house and left her,
strolling down the flower-bordered path as though he were in the best of
all possible moods with himself and the universe. But, in truth, he
muttered a heavy oath under his breath--an oath that was by no means in
keeping with his godly and peaceful disposition. Once, as he walked, he
looked back,--and saw the woman he coveted now more than ever, standing
erect in the porch, tall, fair and loyal in her attitude, looking like
some proud empress who had just dismissed an unworthy vassal. A farmer's
daughter! and she had refused Mr. Dyceworthy with disdain! He had much
ado to prevent himself shaking his fist at her!
"The lofty shall be laid low, and the stiff-necked shall be humbled," he
thought, as with a vicious switch of his stick he struck off a fragrant
head of purple clover. "Conceited fool of a girl! Hopes to be 'my lady'
does she? She had better take care!"
Here he stopped abruptly in his walk as if a thought had struck him,--a
malignant joy sparkled in his eyes, and he flourished his stick
triumphantly in the air. "I'll have her yet!" he exclaimed half-aloud.
"I'll set Lovisa on her!" And his countenance cleared; he quickened his
pace like a man having some pressing business to fulfill, and was soon
in his boat, rowing towards Bosekop with unaccustomed speed and energy.
Meanwhile Thelma stood motionless where he had left her,--she watched
the retreating form of her portly suitor till he had altogether
disappeared,--then she pressed one hand on her bosom, sighed, and
laughed a little. Glancing at the crucifix so lately restored to her,
she touched it with her lips and fastened it to a small silver chain she
wore, and then a shadow swept over her fair face that made it strangely
sad and weary. Her lips quivered pathetically; she shaded her eyes with
her curved fingers as though the sunlight hurt her,--then with faltering
steps she turned away from the warm stretch of garden, brilliant with
blossom, and entered the house. There was a sense of outrage and insult
upon her, and though in her soul she treated Mr. Dyceworthy's
observations with the contempt they deserved, his coarse allusion to Sir
Philip Errington had wounded her more than she cared to admit to
herself. Once in the quiet sitting-room, she threw herself on her knees
by her father's arm-chair, and laying her proud little golden head down
on her folded arms, she broke into a passion of silent tears.
Who shall unravel the mystery of a woman's weeping? Who shall declare
whether it is a pain or a relief to the overcharged heart? The dignity
of a crowned queen is capable of utterly dissolving and disappearing in
a shower of tears, when Love's burning finger touches the pulse and
marks its slow or rapid beatings. And Thelma wept as many of her sex
weep, without knowing why, save that all suddenly she felt herself most
lonely and forlorn like Sainte Beuve's--
"Colombe gemissante,
Qui demande par pitie
Sa moitie,
Sa moitie loin d'elle absente!"
CHAPTER XII.
"A wicked will,
A woman's will; a cankered grandame's will!"
_King John_.
"By Jove!"
And Lorimer, after uttering this unmeaning exclamation, was silent out
of sheer dismay. He stood hesitating and looking in at the door of the