"Not one of us have a voice, Miss Güldmar," said Errington. "I used to think I had, but Lorimer discouraged my efforts."
"Men shouldn't sing," observed Lorimer; "if they only knew how awfully ridiculous they look, standing up in dress-coats and white ties, pouring forth inane love-ditties that nobody wants to hear, they wouldn't do it. Only a woman looks pretty while singing."
"Ah, that is very nice!" said Thelma, with a demure smile. "Then I am agreeable to you when I sing?"
Agreeable? This was far too tame a word--they all rose from the table and came towards her, with many assurances of their delight and admiration; but she put all their compliments aside with a little gesture that was both incredulous and peremptory.
"You must not say so many things in praise of me," she said, with a swift upward glance at Errington, where he leaned on the piano regarding her. "It is nothing to be able to sing. It is only like the birds, but we cannot understand the words they say, just as you cannot understand Norwegian. Listen,--here is a little ballad you will all know," and she played a soft prelude, while her voice, subdued to a plaintive murmur, rippled out in the dainty verses of Sainte-Beuve-"Sur ma lyre, l'autre fois Dans un bois, Ma main préludait à peine; Une colombe descend En passant, Blanche sur le luth d'ébène"
"Mais au lieu d'accords touchants, De doux chants, La colombe gemissante Me demande par pitié Sa moitié Sa moitié loin d'elle absente!"
She sang this seriously and sweetly till she came to the last three lines, when, catching Errington's earnest gaze, her voice quivered and her cheeks flushed. She rose from the piano as soon as she had finished, and said to the bonde, who had been watching her with proud and gratified looks-"It is growing late, father. We must say good-bye to our friends and return home."
"Not yet!" eagerly implored Sir Philip. "Come up on deck,--we will have coffee there, and afterwards you shall leave us when you will."
Güldmar acquiesced in this arrangement, before his daughter had time to raise any objection, and they all went on deck, where a comfortable lounging chair was placed for Thelma, facing the most gorgeous portion of the glowing sky, which on this evening was like a moving mass of molten gold, split asunder here and there by angry ragged-looking rifts of crimson. The young men grouped themselves together at the prow of the vessel in order to smoke their cigars without annoyance to Thelma. Old Güldmar did not smoke, but he talked,--and Errington after seeing them all fairly absorbed in an argument on the best methods of spearing salmon, moved quietly away to where the girl was sitting, her great pensive eyes fixed on the burning splendors of the heavens.