The sky had indeed grown darker, and little wrinkling waves disturbed the surface of the water. But the sun as yet retained his sovereignty, and there was no wind. By the pilot's advice, Errington and his friends had provided themselves each with a pine torch, in order to light up the cavern as soon as they found themselves within it. The smoky crimson flare illuminated what seemed at a first glance to be a miniature fairy palace studded thickly with clusters of diamonds. Long pointed stalactites hung from the roof at almost mathematically even distances from one another,--the walls glistened with varying shades of pink and green and violet,--and in the very midst of the cave was a still pool of water in which all the fantastic forms and hues of the place mirrored themselves in miniature. In one corner the stalactites had clustered into the shape of a large chair overhung by a canopy, and Duprèz perceiving it, exclaimed--he listened, and seemed satisfied; then, turning away, he linked his arm through Philip's, and said, "Voilà! A queen's throne! Come Mademoiselle Güldmar, you must sit in it!"
"But I am not a queen," laughed Thelma. "A throne is for a king--will not Sir Phillip sit there?"
"There's a compliment for you, Phil!" cried Lorrimer, waving his torch enthusiastically. "Let us awaken the echoes with the shout of 'Long live the King!'"
But Errington approached Thelma, and taking her hand in his, said gently-"Come! let us see you throned in state, Queen Thelma! To please me,--come!"
She looked up--the flame of the bright torch he carried illumined his face, on which love had written what she could not fail to read,--but she trembled as with cold, and there was a kind of appalling winder in her troubled eyes. He whispered, "come, Queen Thelma!" As in a dream, she allowed him to lead her to the stalactite chair, and when she was seated therein, she endeavored to control the rapid beating of her heart, and to smile unconcernedly on the little group that surrounded her with shouts of mingled mirth and admiration.
"Ye look just fine!" said Macfarlane with undisguised delight. "Ye'd mak' a grand picture, wouldn't she, Errington?"
Phillip gazed at her, but said nothing--his head was too full. Sitting there among the glittering, intertwisted, and suspended rocks,--with the blaze from the torches flashing on her winsome face and luxuriant hair,--with that half-troubled, half-happy look in her eyes, and an uncertain shadowy smile quivering on her sweet lips, the girl looked almost dangerously lovely,--Helen of Troy could scarce have fired more passionate emotion among the old-world heroes than she unconsciously excited at that moment in the minds of all who beheld her. Duprèz for once understood what it was to reverence a woman's beauty, and decided that the flippant language of compliment was out of place--he therefore said nothing, and Lorrimer, too, was silent battling bravely against the wild desires that were now, in his opinion, nothing but disloyalty to his friend. Old Güldmar's hearty voice roused and startled them all.