Thelma
him, answered his call, and drove still faster,--soon she came up beside
him, and without answering his amazed questions, she cried
breathlessly--
"Jump in--jump in! We must go on as quickly as possible to Bosekop!
Quick--quick! Oh my poor Froeken! The old villain! Wait till I get at
him!"
"But, my _leet-le_ child!" expostulated Pierre, climbing up into the
queer vehicle--"What is all this? I am in astonishment--I understand not
at all! How comes it that you are run away from home, and Mademoiselle
also?"
Britta only waited till he was safely seated, and then lashed the pony
with redoubled force. Away they clattered at a break-neck pace, the
Frenchman having much ado to prevent himself from being jolted out again
on the road.
"It is a wicked plot!" she then exclaimed, panting with excitement--"a
wicked, wicked plot! This afternoon Mr. Dyceworthy's servant came and
brought Sir Philip's card. It said that he had met with an accident and
had been brought back to Bosekop, and that he wished the Froeken to come
to him at once. Of course, the darling believed it all--and she grew so
pale, so pale! And she went straight away in her boat all by herself! Oh
my dear--my dear!"
Britta gasped for breath, and Duprez soothingly placed an arm round her
waist, an action which the little maiden seemed not to be aware of. She
resumed her story--"Then the Froeken had not been gone so very long, and
I was watching for her in the garden, when a woman passed by--a friend
of my grandmother's. She called out--'Hey, Britta! Do you know they have
got your mistress down at Talvig, and they'll burn her for a witch
before they sleep!' 'She has gone to Bosekop,' I answered, 'so I know
you tell a lie.' 'It is no lie,' said the old woman, 'old Lovisa has her
this time for sure.' And she laughed and went away. Well, I did not stop
to think twice about it--I started off for Talvig at once--I ran nearly
all the way. I found my grandmother alone--I asked her if she had seen
the Froeken? She screamed and clapped her hands like a mad woman! she
said that the Froeken was with Mr. Dyceworthy--Mr. Dyceworthy would know
what to do with her!"
"_Sapristi!_" ejaculated Duprez. "This is serious!"
Britta glanced anxiously at him, and went on. "Then she tried to shut
the doors upon me and beat me--but I escaped. Outside I saw a man I knew
with his carriole, and I borrowed it of him and came back as fast as I
could--but oh! I am so afraid--my grandmother said such dreadful
things!"
"The others have taken a boat to Bosekop," said Duprez, to reassure her.
"They may be there by now."
Britta shook her head. "The tide is against them--no! we shall be there
first. But," and she looked wistfully at Pierre, "my grandmother said
Mr. Dyceworthy had sworn to ruin the Froeken. What did she mean, do you
think?"
Duprez did not answer,--he made a strange grimace and shrugged his
shoulders. Then he seized the whip and lashed the pony.
"Faster, faster, _mon chere_!" he cried to that much-astonished,
well-intentioned animal. "It is not a time to sleep, _ma foi_!" Then to
Britta--"My little one, you shall see! We shall disturb the good
clergyman at his peaceful supper--yes indeed! Be not afraid!"
And with such reassuring remarks he beguiled the rest of the way, which
to both of them seemed unusually long, though it was not much past nine
when they rattled into the little village called by courtesy a town, and
came to a halt within a few paces of the minister's residence.
Everything was very quiet--the inhabitants of the place retired to rest
early--and the one principal street was absolutely deserted. Duprez
alighted.
"Stay you here, Britta," he said, lightly kissing the hand that held the
pony's reins. "I will make an examination of the windows of the house.
Yes--before knocking at the door! You wait with patience. I will let you
know everything!"
And with a sense of pleasurable excitement in his mind, he stole softly
along on tip-toe--entered the minister's garden, fragrant with roses and
mignonette, and then, attracted by the sound of voices, went straight up
to the parlor window. The blind was down and he could see nothing, but
he heard Mr. Dyceworthy's bland persuasive tones, echoing out with a
soft sonorousness, as though he were preaching to some refractory
parishioner. He listened attentively.
"Oh strange, strange!" said Mr. Dyceworthy. "Strange that you will not
see how graciously the Lord hath delivered you into my hands! Yea,--and
no escape is possible! For lo, you yourself, Froeken Thelma," Dyceworthy
started, "you yourself came hither unto my dwelling, a woman all
unprotected, to a man equally unprotected,--and who, though a humble
minister of saving grace, is not proof against the offered surrender of
your charms! Make the best of it, my sweet girl!--make the best of it!
You can never undo what you have done to-night."
"Coward! . . . coward!" and Thelma's rich low voice caused Pierre to
almost leap forward from the place where he stood concealed.
"You,--_you_ made me come here--_you_ sent me that card--_you_ dared to
use the name of my betrothed husband, to gain your vile purpose! _You_
have kept me locked in this room all these hours--and do you think you
will not be punished? I will let the whole village know of your
treachery and falsehood!"
Mr. Dyceworthy laughed gently. "Dear me, dear me!" he remarked sweetly.
"How pretty we look in a passion, to be sure! And we talk of our
'betrothed husband' do we? Tut-tut! Put that dream out of your mind, my
dear girl--Sir Philip Bruce-Errington will have nothing to do with you
after your little escapade of to-night! Your honor is touched!--yes,
yes! and honor is everything to such a man as he. As for the 'card' you
talk about, I never sent a card--not I!" Mr. Dyceworthy made this
assertion in a tone of injured honesty. "Why should I! No--no! You came
here of your own accord,--that is certain and--" here he spoke more
slowly and with a certain malicious glee, "I shall have no difficulty in
proving it to be so, should the young man Errington ask me for an
explanation! Now you had better give me a kiss and make the peace!
There's not a soul in the place who will believe anything you say
against me; _you_, a reputed witch, and I, a minister of the Gospel. For
your father I care nothing, a poor sinful pagan can never injure a
servant of the Lord. Come now, let me have that kiss! I have been very
patient--I am sure I deserve it!"
There was a sudden rushing movement in the room, and a slight cry.
"If you touch me!" cried Thelma, "I will kill you! I will! God will help
me!"
Again Mr. Dyceworthy laughed sneeringly. "God will help you!" he
exclaimed as though in wonder. "As if God ever helped a _Roman_! Froeken
Thelma, be sensible. By your strange visit to me to-night you have
ruined your already damaged character--I say you have ruined it,--and if
anything remains to be said against you, I can say it--moreover, I
_will_!"
A crash of breaking window-glass followed these words, and before Mr.
Dyceworthy could realize what had happened, he was pinioned against his
own wall by an active, wiry, excited individual, whose black eyes
sparkled with gratified rage, whose clenched fist was dealing him severe
thumps all over his fat body.
"Ha, ha! You will, will you!" cried Duprez, literally dancing up against
him and squeezing him as though he were a jelly. "You will tell lies in
the service of _le Bon Dieu_? No--not quite, not yet!" And still
pinioning him with one hand, he dragged at his collar with the other
till he succeeded, in spite of the minister's unwieldly efforts to
defend himself, in rolling him down upon the floor, where he knelt upon
him in triumph. "_Voila! Je sais faire la boxe, moi!_" Then turning to
Thelma, who stood an amazed spectator of the scene, her flushed cheeks
and tear-swollen eyes testifying to the misery of the hours she had
passed, he said, "Run, Mademoiselle, run! The little Britta is outside,
she has a pony-car--she will drive you home. I will stay here till
Phil-eep comes. I shall enjoy myself! I will begin--Phil-eep with
finish! Then we will return to you."
Thelma needed no more words, she rushed to the door, threw it open, and
vanished like a bird in air. Britta's joy at seeing her was too great
for more than an exclamation of welcome,--and the carriole, with the two
girls safely in it, was soon on its rapid way back to the farm.
Meanwhile, Olaf Gueldmar, with Errington and the others, had just landed
at Bosekop after a heavy pull across the Fjord, and they made straight
for Mr. Dyceworthy's house, the _bonde_ working himself up as he walked
into a positive volcano of wrath. Finding the street-door open as it had
just been left by the escaped Thelma, they entered, and on the threshold
of the parlor, stopped abruptly, in amazement at the sight that
presented itself. Two figures were rolling about on the floor,
apparently in a close embrace,--one large and cumbrous, the other small
and slight. Sometimes they shook each other,--sometimes they lay
still,--sometimes they recommenced rolling. Both were perfectly silent,
save that the larger personage seemed to breathe somewhat heavily.
Lorimer stepped into the room to secure a better view--then he broke
into an irrepressible laugh.
"It's Duprez," he cried, for the benefit of the others that stood at the
door. "By Jove! How did he get here, I wonder?"
Hearing his name, Duprez looked up from that portion of Mr. Dyceworthy's
form in which he had been burrowing, and smiled radiantly.
"Ah, _cher_ Lorimer! Put your knee here, will you? So! that is well--I
will rest myself!" And he rose, smoothing his roughened hair with both
hands, while Lorimer in obedience to his request, kept one knee
artistically pressed on the recumbent figure of the minister. "Ah! and
there is our Phil-eep, and Sandy, and Monsieur Gueldmar! But I do not
think," here he beamed all over, "there is much more to be done! He is
one bruise, I assure you! He will not preach for many Sundays;--it is
bad to be so fat--he will be so exceedingly suffering!"
Errington could not forbear smiling at Pierre's equanimity. "But what
has happened?" he asked. "Is Thelma here?"
"She _was_ here," answered Duprez. "The religious had decoyed her here
by means of some false writing,--supposed to be from you. He kept her
locked up here the whole afternoon. When I came he was making love and
frightening her,--I am pleased I was in time. But"--and he smiled
again--"he is well beaten!"
Sir Philip strode up to the fallen Dyceworthy, his face darkening with
wrath.
"Let him go, Lorimer," he said sternly. Then, as the reverend gentleman
slowly struggled to his feet, moaning with pain, he demanded, "What have
you to say for yourself, sir? Be thankful if I do not give you the
horse-whipping you deserve, you scoundrel!"
"Let me get at him!" vociferated Gueldmar at this juncture, struggling to
free himself from the close grasp of the prudent Macfarlane. "I have
longed for such a chance! Let me get at him!"
But Lorimer assisted to restrain him from springing forward,--and the
old man chafed and swore by his gods in vain.
Mr. Dyceworthy meanwhile meekly raised his eyes, and folded his hands
with a sort of pious resignation.
"I have been set upon and cruelly abused," he said mournfully, "and
there is no part of me without ache and soreness!" He sighed deeply.
"But I am punished rightly for yielding unto carnal temptation, put
before me in the form of the maiden who came hither unto me with
delusive entrancements--"
He stopped, shrinking back in alarm from the suddenly raised fist of the
young baronet.
"You'd better be careful!" remarked Philip coolly, with dangerously
flashing eyes; "there are four of us here, remember!"