Thelma (Chapter 7, page 1 of 17)


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Chapter 7

"In mezzo del mio core c' e una spina;
Non c' e barbier che la possa levare,
-- Solo il mio amore colla sua manina"
Rime Popolari.

Errington and Lorimer pulled away across the Fjord in a silence that lasted for many minutes. Old Güldmar stood on the edge of his little pier to watch them out of sight. So, till their boat turned the sharp corner of the protecting rock, that hid the landing-place from view, they saw his picturesque figure and gleaming silvery hair outlined clearly against the background of the sky--a sky now tenderly flushed with pink like the inside of a delicate shell. When they could no longer perceive him they still rowed on speaking no word,--the measured, musical plash of the oars through the smooth, dark olive-green water alone breaking the stillness around them. There was a curious sort of hushed breathlessness in the air; fantastic, dream-like lights and shadows played on the little wrinkling waves; sudden flushes of crimson came and went in the western horizon, and over the high summits of the surrounding mountains mysterious shapes, formed of purple and grey mist, rose up and crept softly downwards, winding in and out deep valleys and dark ravines, like wandering spirits sent on some secret and sorrowful errand. After a while Errington said almost vexedly-"Are you struck dumb, George? Haven't you a word to say to a fellow?"

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