"I have always been sorry for you."
"Sorry for me!" almost yelled the old woman. "Why--why are you sorry for
me?"
"Do not answer her, child!" interrupted Gueldmar angrily. "She is mad as
the winds of a wild winter, and will but vex thee."
But Thelma laid her hand soothingly on her father's, and smiled
peacefully as she turned her fair face again towards Lovisa.
"Why?" she said. "Because you seem so very lonely and sad--and that must
make you cross with every one who is happy! And it is a pity, I think,
that you do not let Britta alone--you only quarrel with each other when
you meet. And would you not like her to think kindly of you when you are
dead?"
Lovisa seemed choking with anger,--her face worked into such hideous
grimaces, that all present, save Thelma, were dismayed at her repulsive
aspect.
"When I am dead!" she muttered hoarsely. "So you count upon that
already, do you? Ah! . . . but do you know which of us shall die first!"
Then raising her voice with an effort she exclaimed--
"Stand forth, Thelma Gueldmar! Let me see you closely--face to face!"
Errington said something in a low tone, and the _bonde_ would have again
interfered, but Thelma shook her head, smiled and rose from her seat at
table.
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