"She is always complaining; it is a pity she cannot rest! She is a spirit, you know.

I have often asked her what troubles her, but she will not tell me; she only weeps!" His companion looked at him compassionately.

The sound that so affected his disordered imagination was nothing but the wind blowing through the narrow hole formed by the removal of the stone; but it was useless to explain this simple fact to one in his condition.
"Tell me," and Sir Philip spoke very gently, "is this your home ?" The dwarf surveyed him almost scornfully.

"_My_ home!" he echoed.

"My home is everywhere--on the mountains, in the forests, on the black rocks and barren shores! My soul lives between the sun and the sea; my heart is with Thelma!" Thelma! Here was perhaps a clue to the mystery.
"Who is Thelma ?" asked Errington somewhat hurriedly.
Sigurd broke into violent and derisive laughter.