Thelma | Page 9

with a cold yet brilliant flash of something like scorn
in her wonderful eyes.
Since her departure the scenery, in some unaccountable way, seemed
less attractive to him, the songs of the birds, who were all awake, fell
on inattentive ears; he was haunted by her face and voice, and he was,
moreover, a little out of humor with himself for having been such a
blunderer as to give her offense and thus leave an unfavorable
impression on her mind.
"I suppose I WAS rude," he considered after a while. "She seemed to
think so, at any rate. By Jove! what a crushing look she gave me! A
peasant? Not she! If she had said she was an empress I shouldn't have
been much surprised. But a mere common peasant, with that regal
figure and those white hands! I don't believe it. Perhaps our pilot,
Valdemar, knows who she is; I must ask him."

All at once he bethought himself of the cave whence she had emerged.
It was close at hand--a natural grotto, arched and apparently lofty. He
resolved to explore it. Glancing at his watch he saw it was not yet one
o'clock in the morning, yet the voice of the cuckoo called shrilly from
the neighboring hills, and a circling group of swallows flitted around
him, their lovely wings glistening like jewels in the warm light of the
ever-wakeful sun. Going to the entrance of the cave, he looked in. It
was formed of rough rock, hewn out by the silent work of the water,
and its floor was strewn thick with loose pebbles and polished stones.
Entering it, he was able to walk upright for some few paces, then
suddenly it seemed to shrink in size and to become darker. The light
from the opening gradually narrowed into a slender stream too small
for him to see clearly where he was going, thereupon he struck a fusee.
At first he could observe no sign of human habitation, not even a rope,
or chain, or hook, to intimate that it was a customary shelter for a boat.
The fusee went out quickly, and he lit another. Looking more carefully
and closely about him, he perceived on a projecting shelf of rock, a
small antique lamp, Etruscan in shape, made of iron and wrought with
curious letters. There was oil in it, and a half-burnt wick; it had
evidently been recently used. He availed himself at once of this useful
adjunct to his explorations, and lighting it, was able by the clear and
steady flame it emitted, to see everything very distinctly. Right before
him was an uneven flight of steps leading down to a closed door.
He paused and listened attentively. There was no sound but the slow
lapping of the water near the entrance; within, the thickness of the
cavern walls shut out the gay carolling of the birds, and all the cheerful
noises of awakening nature. Silence, chillness, and partial obscurity are
depressing influences, and the warm blood flowing through his veins,
ran a trifle more slowly and coldly as he felt the sort of uncomfortable
eerie sensation which is experienced by the jolliest and most careless
traveller, when he first goes down to the catacombs in Rome. A sort of
damp, earthy shudder creeps through the system, and a dreary feeling
of general hopelessness benumbs the faculties; a morbid state of body
and mind which is only to be remedied by a speedy return to the warm
sunlight, and a draught of generous wine.

Sir Philip, however, held the antique lamp aloft, and descended the
clumsy steps cautiously, counting twenty steps in all, at the bottom of
which he found himself face to face with the closed door. It was made
of hard wood, so hard as to be almost like iron. It was black with age,
and covered with quaint carvings and inscriptions; but in the middle,
standing out in bold relief among the numberless Runic figures and
devices, was written in large well-cut letters the word--
THELMA
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I have it! The girl's name, of course! This is
some private retreat of hers, I suppose,--a kind of boudoir like my Lady
Winsleigh's, only with rather a difference."
And he laughed aloud, thinking of the dainty gold-satin hangings of a
certain room in a certain great mansion in Park Lane, where an
aristocratic and handsome lady-leader of fashion had as nearly made
love to him as it was possible for her to do without losing her social
dignity. His laugh was echoed back with a weird and hollow sound, as
though a hidden demon of the cave were mocking him, a demon whose
merriment was intense but also horrible. He heard the unpleasant
jeering repetition with a kind of careless admiration.
"That