"Thelma" might be the name or title of some long-departed queen or
princess of Norway, yet, if so, how came the crucifix there,--the red
lamp, the flowers?
He lingered, looking curiously about him, as if he fancied the
shell-embroidered walls might whisper some answer to his thoughts. The
silence offered no suggestions. The plaintive figure of the tortured
Christ suspended on the cross maintained an immovable watch over all
things, and there was a subtle, faint odor floating about as of crushed
spices or herbs. While he still stood there absorbed in perplexed
conjectures, he became oppressed by want of air. The red hue of the
poppy-wreath mingled with the softer glow of the lamp on the altar,--the
moist glitter of the shells and polished pebbles, seemed to dazzle and
confuse his eyes. He felt dizzy and faint--and hastily made his way out
of that close death-chamber into the passage, where he leaned for a few
minutes against the great central column to recover himself. A brisk
breath of wind from the Fjord came careering through the gallery, and
blew coldly upon his forehead.
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