"We are fighting," said Sigurd with intense passion in his voice. "You may not know it; but I know it! I have felt the thrust of your sword; it has crossed mine. Stay!" and his eyes grew vague and dreamy. "Why was I sent to seek you out--let me think--let me think!"
And he seated himself forlornly on one of the deck chairs and seemed painfully endeavoring to put his scattered ideas in order. Errington studied him with a gentle forbearance; inwardly he was very curious to know whether this Sigurd had any connection with the Güldmars, but he refrained from asking too many questions. He simply said in a cheery tone-"Yes, Sigurd,--why did you come to see me? I'm glad you did; it's very kind of you, but I don't think you even know my name."
To his surprise, Sigurd looked up with a more settled and resolved expression of face, and answered almost as connectedly as any sane man could have done.
"I know your name very well," he said in a low composed manner. "You are Sir Philip Errington, a rich English nobleman. Fate led you to her grave--a grave that no strange feet have ever passed, save yours--and so I know you are the man for whom her spirit has waited,--she has brought you hither. How foolish to think she sleeps under the stone, when she is always awake and busy,--always at work opposing me! Yes, though I pray her to lie still, she will not!"
His voice grew wild again, and Philip asked quietly-"Of whom are you speaking, Sigurd?"
His steady tone seemed to have some compelling influence on the confused mind of the half-witted creature, who answered readily and at once-"Of whom should I speak but Thelma? Thelma, the beautiful rose of the northern forest--Thelma--"
He broke off abruptly with a long shuddering sigh, and rocking himself drearily to and fro, gazed wistfully out to the sea. Errington hazarded a guess as to the purpose of that coffin hidden in the shell cavern.
"Do you mean Thelma living? . . . or Thelma dead?"
"Both," answered Sigurd promptly. "They are one and the same,--you cannot part them. Mother and child,--rose and rosebud! One walks the earth with the step of a queen, the other floats in the air like a silvery cloud; but I see them join and embrace and melt into each other's arms till they unite in one form, fairer than the beauty of angels! And you--you know this as well as I do--you have seen Thelma, you have kissed the cup of friendship with her; but remember!--not with me--not with me!"