Thelma
"Father is not a pagan," she declared, turning to Lorimer. "How can one
be pagan if one believes that there is good in everything,--and that
nothing happens except for the best?"
"It sounds to me more Christian than pagan," averred Lorimer, with a
smile. "But it's no use appealing to _me_ on such matters, Miss Gueldmar.
I am an advocate of the Law of Nothing. I remember a worthy philosopher
who,--when he was in his cups,--earnestly assured me it was all
right--'everything was nothing, and nothing was everything.' 'You are
sure that is so?' I would say to him. 'My dear young friend--_hic_--I am
positive! I have--_hic_--worked out the problem with--_hic_--care!' And
he would shake me by the hand warmly, with a mild and moist smile, and
would retire to bed walking sideways in the most amiable manner. I'm
certain his ideas were correct as well as luminous."
They laughed, and then looking up saw that they were passing a portion
of the coast of Seiland which was more than usually picturesque. Facing
them was a great cavernous cleft in the rocks, tinted with a curious
violet hue intermingled with bronze,--and in the strong sunlight these
colors flashed with the brilliancy of jewels, reflecting themselves in
the pale slate-colored sea. By Errington's orders the yacht slackened
speed, and glided along with an almost noiseless motion,--and they were
silent, listening to the dash and drip of water that fell invisibly from
the toppling crags that frowned above, while the breathless heat and
stillness of the air added to the weird solemnity of the scene. They all
rose from their chairs and leaned on the deck-rails, looking, but
uttering no word.
"In one of these islands," said Thelma at last, very softly--"it was
either Seiland or Soroe--they once found the tomb of a great chief.
There was an inscription outside that warned all men to respect it, but
they laughed at the warning and opened the tomb. And they saw, seated in
a stone chair, a skeleton with a gold crown on its head and a great
carved seal in its hand, and at its feet there was a stone casket. The
casket was broken open, and it was full of gold and jewels. Well, they
took all the gold and jewels, and buried the skeleton--and now,--do you
know what happens? At midnight a number of strange persons are seen
searching on the shore and among the rocks for the lost treasure, and it
is said they often utter cries of anger and despair. And those who
robbed the tomb all died suddenly."
"Served them right!" said Lorimer. "And now they are dead, I suppose the
wronged ghosts don't appear any more?"
"Oh yes, they do," said Gueldmar very seriously. "If any sailor passes at
midnight, and sees them or hears their cries, he is doomed."
"But _does_ he see or hear them?" asked Errington, with a smile.
"Well, I don't know," returned Gueldmar, with a grave shake of his head.
"I'm not superstitious myself, but I should be sorry to say anything
against the berg-folk. You see they _may_ exist, and it's no use
offending them."
"And what do ye mean by the berg-folk?" inquired Macfarlane.
"They are supposed to be the souls of persons who died impenitent," said
Thelma, "and they are doomed to wander, on the hills till the day of
judgment. It is a sort of purgatory."
Duprez shook his fingers emphatically in the air.
"Ah, bah!" he said; "what droll things remain still in the world! Yes,
in spite of liberty, equality, fraternity! You do not believe in foolish
legends, Mademoiselle? For example,--do you think you will suffer
purgatory?"
"Indeed yes!" she replied. "No one can be good enough to go straight to
heaven. There must be some little stop on the way in which to be sorry
for all the bad things one has done."
"'Tis the same idea as ours," said Gueldmar. "We have two places of
punishment in the Norse faith; one, _Nifleheim_, which is a temporary
thing like the Catholic purgatory; the other _Nastrond_, which is the
counterpart of the Christian hell. Know you not the description of
_Nifleheim_ in the _Edda_?--'tis terrible enough to satisfy all tastes.
'Hela, or Death rules over the Nine Worlds of Nifleheim. Her hall is
called Grief. Famine is her table, and her only servant is Delay. Her
gate is a precipice, her porch Faintness, her bed Leanness,--Cursing and
Howling are her tent. Her glance is dreadful and terrifying,--and her
lips are blue with the venom of Hatred.' These words," he added, "sound
finer in Norwegian, but I have given the meaning fairly."
"Ma certes!" said Macfarlane chuckling. "I'll tell my aunt in Glasgie
aboot it. This Nifleheim wad suit her pairfectly,--she wad send a' her
relations there wi' tourist tickets, not available for the return
journey!"
"It seems to me," observed Errington, "that the Nine Worlds of Nifleheim
have a resemblance to the different circles of Dante's Purgatory."
"Exactly so," said Lorimer. "All religions seem to me to be more or less
the same,--the question I can never settle is,--which is the right one?"
"Would you follow it if you knew?" asked Thelma, with a slight smile.
Lorimer laughed.
"Well, upon my life, I don't know!" he answered frankly, "I never was a
praying sort of fellow,--I don't seem to grasp the idea of it somehow.
But there's one thing I'm certain of,--I can't endure a bird without
song,--a flower without scent, or a _woman_ without religion--she seems
to me no woman at all."
"But _are_ there any such women?" inquired the girl surprised.
"Yes, there are undoubtedly! Free-thinking, stump-orator,
have-your-rights sort of creatures. _You_ don't know anything about
them, Miss Gueldmar--be thankful! Now, Phil, how long is this vessel of
yours going to linger here?"
Thus reminded, Errington called to the pilot, and in a few minutes the
_Eulalie_ resumed her usual speed, and bore swiftly on towards Soroe.
This island, dreary and dark in the distance, grew somewhat more
inviting in aspect on a nearer approach. Now and then a shaft of
sunlight fell on some glittering point of felspar or green patch of
verdure.--and Valdemar Svensen stated that he knew of a sandy creek
where, if the party chose, they could land and see a small cave of
exquisite beauty, literally hung all over with stalactites.
"I never heard of this cave," said Gueldmar, fixing a keen eye on the
pilot. "Art thou a traveller's guide to all such places in Norway?"
Somewhat to Errington's surprise, Svensen changed color and appeared
confused; moreover, he removed his red cap altogether when he answered
the _bonde_, to whom he spoke deferentially in rapid Norwegian. The old
man laughed as he listened, and seemed satisfied; then, turning away, he
linked his arm through Philip's, and said,
"You must pardon him, my lad, that he spoke in your presence a tongue
unfamiliar to you. No offense was meant. He is of my creed, but fears to
make it known, lest he should lose all employment--which is likely
enough, seeing that so many of the people are fanatics. Moreover, he is
bound to me by an oath,--which in olden days would have made him my
serf,--but which leaves him free enough just now,--with one exception."
"And that exception?" asked Errington with some interest.
"Is, that should I ever demand a certain service at his hands, he dare
not refuse it. Odd, isn't it? or so it seems to you," and Gueldmar
pressed the young man's arm lightly and kindly; "but our Norse oaths,
are taken with great solemnity, and are as binding as the obligation of
death itself. However, I have not commanded Valdemar's obedience yet,
nor do I think I am likely to do so for some time. He is a fine,
faithful fellow,--though too much given to dreams."
A gay chorus of laughter here broke from the little group seated on
deck, of which Thelma was the centre,--and Gueldmar stopped in his walk,
with an attentive smile on his open, ruddy countenance.
"'Tis good for the heart to hear the merriment of young folks," he said.
"Think you not my girl's laugh is like the ripple of a lark's song? just
so clear and joyous?"
"Her voice is music itself!" declared Philip quickly and warmly. "There
is nothing she says, or does, or looks,--that is not absolutely
beautiful!"
Then, suddenly aware of his precipitation, he stopped abruptly. His face
flushed as Gueldmar regarded him fixedly, with a musing and doubtful air.
But whatever the old man thought, he said nothing. He merely held the
young baronet's arm a little closer, and together they joined the
others,--though it was noticeable that during the rest of the day the
_bonde_ was rather abstracted and serious,--and that every now and then
his eyes rested on his daughter's face with an expression of tender
yearning and melancholy.
It was about two hours after luncheon that the _Eulalie_ approached the
creek spoken of by the pilot, and they were all fascinated by the
loveliness as well as by the fierce grandeur of the scene. The rocks on
that portion of Soroe appeared to have split violently asunder to admit
some great in-rushing passage of the sea, and were piled up in toppling
terraces to the height of more than two thousand feet above the level of
the water. Beneath these wild and craggy fortresses of nature a shining
stretch of beach had formed itself, on which the fine white sand, mixed
with crushed felspar, sparkled like powdered silver. On the left-hand
side of this beach could be distinctly seen the round opening of the
cavern to which Valdemar Svensen directed their attention. They decided
to visit it--the yacht was brought to a standstill, and the long-boat
lowered. They took no sailors with them, Errington and his companions
rowing four oars, while Thelma and her father occupied the stern. A
landing was easily effected, and they walked toward the cavern, treading
on thousands of beautiful little shells which strewed the sand beneath
their feet. There was a deep stillness everywhere--the island was so
desolate that it seemed as though the very seabirds refused to make
their homes in the black clefts of such steep and barren rocks.
At the entrance of the little cave Gueldmar looked back to the sea.
"There's a storm coming!" he announced. "Those clouds we saw this
morning have sailed thither almost as quickly as ourselves!"
The sky had indeed grown darker, and little wrinkling waves disturbed
the surface of the water. But the sun as yet retained his sovereignty,
and there was no wind. By the pilot's advice, Errington and his friends
had provided themselves each with a pine torch, in order to light up the
cavern as soon as they found themselves within it. The smoky crimson
flare illuminated what seemed at a first glance to be a miniature fairy
palace studded thickly with clusters of diamonds. Long pointed
stalactites hung from the roof at almost mathematically even distances
from one another,--the walls glistened with varying shades of pink and
green and violet,--and in the very midst of the cave was a still pool of
water in which all the fantastic forms and hues of the place mirrored
themselves in miniature. In one corner the stalactites had clustered
into the shape of a large chair overhung by a canopy, and Duprez
perceiving it, exclaimed--he listened, and seemed satisfied; then,
turning away, he linked his arm through Philip's, and said,
"_Voila!_ A queen's throne! Come Mademoiselle Gueldmar, you must sit in
it!"
"But I am not a queen," laughed Thelma. "A throne is for a king--will
not Sir Phillip sit there?"
"There's a compliment for you, Phil!" cried Lorrimer, waving his torch
enthusiastically. "Let us awaken the echoes with the shout of 'Long live
the King!'"
But Errington approached Thelma, and taking her hand in his, said
gently--
"Come! let us see you throned in state, Queen Thelma! To please
me,--come!"