"Are you sorry, Thelma?" asked Errington gently, as he passed one arm tenderly round her. "Sorry to trust your life to me?"
She laid her little hand in playful reproach against his lips.
"Sorry! you foolish boy! I am glad and grateful! But it is saying good-bye to one's old life, is it not? The dear old home!—and poor Sigurd!"
Her voice trembled, and bright tears fell.
"Sigurd is happy,"—said Errington gravely, taking the hand that caressed him, and reverently kissing it. "Believe me, love,—if he had lived some cruel misery might have befallen him—it is better as it is!"
Thelma did not answer for a minute or two—then she said suddenly—"Philip,—do you remember where I saw you first?"
"Perfectly!" he answered, looking fondly into the sweet upturned face. "Outside a wonderful cavern, which I afterwards explored."
She started and seemed surprised. "You went inside?—you saw—?"
"Everything!"—and Philip related his adventure of that morning, and his first interview with Sigurd. She listened attentively—then she whispered softly—
"My mother sleeps there, you know,—yesterday I went to take her some flowers for the last time. Father came with me—we asked her blessing. And I think she will give it, Philip—she must know how good you are and how happy I am."