He put them quickly in his breast pocket with a curious sense of
satisfaction, though he had no intention of keeping them, and leaned
idly against the clambering roses, watching Thelma, as she drew a low
stool to her father's feet and sat there. A balmy wind blew in from the
Fjord, and rustled mysteriously among the pines; the sky was flecked
here and there with fleecy clouds, and a number of birds were singing in
full chorus. Old Gueldmar heaved a sigh of relief, as though his recent
outburst of passion had done him good.
"I will tell you, Sir Philip," he said, ruffling his daughter's curls as
he spoke,--"I will tell you why I detest the villain Dyceworthy. It is
but fair you should know it. Now, Thelma!--why that push to my knee? You
fear I may offend our friends again? Nay, I will take good care. And so,
first of all, I ask you, what is your religion? Though I know you cannot
be Lutherans."
Errington was somewhat taken aback by the question. He smiled.
"My dear sir," he replied at last; "to be frank with you, I really do
not think I have any religion.
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