"Dieu! what a charming child she would be! One would instantly kill the grandmother and kiss the granddaughter!" And he watched her with admiration as she busied herself about the supper-table, attending to every one with diligence and care, but reserving her special services for Thelma, whom she waited on with a mingled tenderness, and reverence, that were both touching and pretty to see.
The conversation now became general, and nothing further occurred to disturb the harmony and hilarity of the party--only Errington seemed somewhat abstracted, and answered many questions that were put to him at haphazard, without knowing, or possibly caring, whether his replies were intelligible or incoherent.

His thoughts were dreamlike and brilliant with fairy sunshine.

He understood at last what poets meant by their melodious musings, woven into golden threads of song--he seemed to have grasped some hitherto unguessed secret of his being--a secret that filled him with as much strange pain as pleasure.

He felt as though he were endowed with a thousand senses,--each one keenly alive and sensitive to the smallest touch,--and there was a pulsation in his blood that was new and beyond his control,--a something that beat wildly in his heart at the sound of Thelma's voice, or the passing flutter of her white garments near him.

Of what use to disguise it from himself any longer?
He loved her! The terrible, beautiful tempest of love had broken over his life at last; there was no escape from its thunderous passion and dazzling lightning glory.
He drew a sharp quick breath--the hum of the gay voices around him was more meaningless to his ears than the sound of the sea breaking on the beach below.