That will satisfy me!' I dare say, now I come to think of it, those nuns thought me an odd customer; but, at any rate, they seemed to understand me.

Thelma was very happy with them, and considering all things"-- the old man's eyes twinkled fondly--"she hasn't turned out so badly!" They laughed,--and Thelma blushed as Errington's dreamy eyes rested on her with a look, which, though he was unconscious of it, spoke passionate admiration.

The day passed too quickly with them all,--and now, as they sat at dinner in the richly ornamented saloon, there was not one among them who could contemplate without reluctance the approaching break-up of so pleasant a party.

Dessert was served, and as Thelma toyed with the fruit on her plate and sipped her glass of champagne, her face grew serious and absorbed,--even sad,--and she scarcely seemed to hear the merry chatter of tongues around her, till Errington's voice asking a question of her father roused her into swift attention.
"Do you know any one of the name of Sigurd ?" he was saying, "a poor fellow whose wits are in heaven let us hope,--for they certainly are not on earth." Olaf Gueldmar's fine face softened with pity, and he replied-- "Sigurd?
Have you met him then?
Ah, poor boy, his is a sad fate! He has wit enough, but it works wrongly; the brain is there, but 'tis twisted.
Yes, we know Sigurd well enough--his home is with us in default of a better.

Ay, ay! we snatched him from death--perhaps unwisely,--yet he has a good heart, and finds pleasure in his life." "He is a kind of poet in his own way," went on Errington, watching Thelma as she listened intently to their conversation.