Then for a while she remained apparently lost in painful musings, playing with the pen she held, and uncertain what to do. Presently she drew a sheet of note-paper toward her, and began, "My darling boy." As these words appeared under her hand on the white page, her forced calm nearly gave way,--a low cry of intense agony escaped from her lips, and, dropping the pen, she rose and paced the room restlessly, one hand pressed against her heart as though that action could still its rapid beatings. Once more she essayed the hard task she had set herself to fulfill--the task of bidding farewell to the husband in whom her life was centred. Piteous, passionate words came quickly from her overcharged and almost breaking heart--words, tender, touching,--full of love, and absolutely free from all reproach. Little did she guess as she wrote that parting letter, what desperate misery it would cause to the receiver!-When she had finished it, she felt quieted--even more composed than before. She folded and sealed it--then put it out of sight and rang for Britta. That little maiden soon appeared, and seemed surprised to see her mistress still in walking costume.
"Have you only just come in, Fröken?" she ventured to inquire.
"No, I came home some time ago," returned Thelma gently. "But I was talking to Lady Winsleigh in the drawing-room,--and as I am going out again this evening I shall not require to change my dress. I want you to post this letter for me, Britta."
And she held out the one addressed to her father, Olaf Güldmar. Britta took it, but her mind still revolved the question of her mistress's attire.
"If you are going to spend the evening with friends," she suggested, "would it not be better to change?"
"I have on a velvet gown," said Thelma, with a rather wearied patience. "It is quite dressy enough for where I am going." She paused abruptly, and Britta looked at her inquiringly.
"Are you tired, Fröken Thelma?" she asked. "You are so pale!"
"I have a slight headache," Thelma answered. "It is nothing,--it will soon pass. I wish you to post that letter at once, Britta."
"Very well, Fröken." Britta still hesitated. "Will you be out all the evening?" was her next query.
"Yes."
"Then perhaps you will not mind if I go and see Louise, and take supper with her? She has asked me, and Mr. Briggs"--here Britta laughed--"is coming to see if I can go. He will escort me, he says!" And she laughed again.