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.
"Anything to soothe her, poor soul!" she whispered, as she left Errington's side and advanced towards Lovisa till she was within reach of the old woman's hand. She looked like some grand white angel, who had stepped down from a cathedral altar, as she stood erect and stately with a gravely pitying expression in her lovely eyes, confronting the sable-draped, withered, leering hag, who fixed upon her a steady look of the most cruel and pitiless hatred.
"Daughter of Satan!" said Lovisa then, in intense piercing tones that somehow carried with them a sense of awe and horror. "Creature, in whose veins the fire of hell burns without ceasing,--my curse upon you! My curse upon the beauty of your body--may it grow loathsome in the sight of all men! May those who embrace you, embrace misfortune and ruin!--may love betray you and forsake you! May your heart be broken even as mine has been!--may your bridal bed be left deserted!--may your children wither and pine from their hour of birth! Sorrow track you to the grave!--may your death be lingering and horrible! God be my witness and fulfill my words!"
And, raising her arms with wild gesture, she turned and left the house. The spell of stupefied silence was broken with her disappearance. Old Güldmar prepared to rush after her and force her to retract her evil speech,--Errington was furious, and Britta cried bitterly. The lazy Lorimer was excited and annoyed.
"Fetch her back," he said, "and I'll dance upon her!"
But Thelma stood where the old woman had left her--she smiled faintly, but she was very pale. Errington approached her,--she turned to him and stretched out her hands with a little appealing gesture.
"My friend," she said softly, "do you think I deserve so many curses? Is there something about me that is evil?"
What Errington would have answered is doubtful,--his heart beat wildly--he longed to draw those little hands in his own, and cover them with passionate kisses,--but he was intercepted by old Güldmar, who caught his daughter in his arms and hugged her closely, his silvery beard mingling with the gold of her rippling hair.
"Never fear a wicked tongue, my bird!" said the old man fondly. "There is naught of harm that would touch thee either on earth or in heaven,--and a foul-mouthed curse must roll off thy soul like water from a dove's wing! Cheer thee, my darling--cheer thee! What! Thine own creed teaches thee that the gentle Mother of Christ, with her little white angels round her, watches over all innocent maids,--and thinkest thou she will let an old woman's malice and envy blight thy young days? No, no! Thou accursed?" And the bonde laughed loudly to hide the tears that moistened his keen eyes. "Thou art the sweetest blessing of my heart, even as thy mother was before thee! Come, come! Raise thy pretty head--here are these merry lads growing long-faced,--and Britta is weeping enough salt water to fill a bucket! One of thy smiles will set us all right again,--ay, there now!"--as she looked up and, meeting Philip's eloquent eyes, blushed, and withdrew herself gently from her father's arms,--"Let us finish our supper and think no more of yonder villainous old hag--she is crazy, I believe, and knows not what she says half her time. Now, Britta, cease thy grunting and sighing--'twill spoil thy face and will not mend the hole in thy grandmother's brain!"