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"You would not blame poor Svensen because he is alone, father?" she
said. "Is he not to be pitied? Surely it is a cruel fate to have none to
love in all the wide world. Nothing can be more cruel!"
Gueldmar surveyed her humorously. "Hear her!" he said. "She talks as if
she knew all about such things; and if ever a child was ignorant of
sorrow, surely it is my Thelma! Every flower and bird in the place loves
her. Yes; I have thought sometimes the very sea loves her. It must; she
is so much upon it. And as for her old father"--he laughed a little,
though a suspicious moisture softened his keen eyes--"why, he doesn't
love her at all. Ask her! She knows it."
Thelma rose quickly and kissed him. How deliciously those sweet lips
pouted, thought Errington, and what an unreasonable and extraordinary
grudge he seemed to bear towards the venerable _bonde_ for accepting
that kiss with so little apparent emotion!
"Hush, father!" she said. "These friends can see too plainly how much
you spoil me.


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