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Updated: June 24, 2025
Throwing himself on Ulrika with sudden ferocity, he pushed and beat her back as though he were a wolf-hound struggling with refractory prey; and though the ancient Lovisa rushed to the rescue, and Thelma imploringly called upon her zealous champion to desist, all remonstrances were unavailing, till Sigurd had reduced his enemy to the most abject and whimpering terror.
She rose from her chair, and stood up unsteadily, stretching out her little cold white hands to Ulrika, who folded them in her own strong coarse palms. "Yes I am very tired!" she went on dreamily. "There seems to be nothing that is true all is false and unreal I cannot understand!
"Very well," said Ulrika composedly. "Then we must do without him. Doctors are never much use, any way, maybe the Lord will help me instead." And she returned to Thelma, who still slept, though her face was now feverishly flushed and her breathing hurried and irregular.
"Are you going to bury me? You must put me to sleep with my mother her name was Thelma, too. I think it is an unlucky name." "Why, my dear?" asked Ulrika kindly, as she swept the rich tumbled hair from the girl's eyes, and began to braid it in one long loose plait, in order to give her greater ease. Thelma sighed. "There is an old song that says " She broke off.
Then she lay motionless, with closed eyes, utterly drained in body and spirit, scarcely breathing, and, save for a shivering moan that now and then escaped her, she seemed almost insensible. Ulrika watched her with darkening, meditative brows, she listened to the rush of the storm-wind without, it was past eleven o'clock at night.
He approached the now blazing pine-logs, and as he drew off his thick fur driving-gloves, and warmed his hands at the cheerful blaze, Ulrika again fixed her dull eyes upon him with something of wonder and reluctant admiration. Presently she trimmed an oil-lamp, and set it, burning dimly, on the table.
"Maybe, maybe," and Ulrika turned to go; but she muttered sullenly as she went, "There be them that know and could tell, and them that will have her yet." She shut the door behind her with a sharp clang, and, left to himself, Mr. Dyceworthy again smiled such a benignant, fatherly smile! He then walked to the window and looked out.
No one knew what form of faith he followed, it was only when he went to live with the bonde, after Thelma's marriage, that the nature of his creed was dimly suspected. But Ulrika had no dislike for him on this account, her opinions had changed very much during the past few months.
Ulrika had seen her but once since then, and that was on the occasion when, at the threat of Lovisa Elsland, and the command of the Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy, she had given her Sir Philip Errington's card, with the false message written on it that had decoyed her for a time into the wily minister's power.
The picture of her home in Warwickshire seemed to haunt her, she spoke of its great green trees, its roses, its smooth sloping lawns then she would begin to smile and sing again in such a weak, pitiful fashion that Ulrika, her stern nature utterly melted at the sight of such innocent helpless distraction and sorrow, could do nothing but fold the suffering creature in her arms, and rock her to and fro soothingly on her breast, the tears running down her cheeks the while.
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