"Do you think I will tell _you_ ?" he cried loudly.

"_You_,--one of that strong, cruel race who must conquer all they see; who covet everything fair under heaven, and will buy it, even at the cost of blood and tears! Do you think I will unlock the door of my treasure to _you_?
No, no; besides," and his voice sank lower, "what should you do with Thelma?
She is dead!" And, as if possessed by a sudden access of frenzy, he brandished his pine-torch wildly above his head till it showered a rain of bright sparks above him, and exclaimed furiously--"Away, away, and trouble me not! The days are not yet fulfilled,--the time is not yet ripe.

Why seek to hasten my end?
Away, away, I tell you! Leave me in peace! I will die when Thelma bids me; but not till then!" And he rushed down the long gallery and disappeared in the furthest chamber, where he gave vent to a sort of long, sobbing cry, which rang dolefully through the cavern and then subsided into utter silence.
Feeling as if he were in a chaotic dream, Errington pursued his interrupted course through the winding passages with a bewildered and wondering mind.

What strange place had he inadvertently lighted on?
and who were the still stranger beings in connection with it?
First the beautiful girl herself; next the mysterious coffin, hidden in its fanciful shell temple; and now this deformed madman, with the pale face and fine eyes; whose utterances, though incoherent, savored somewhat of poesy and prophecy.

And what spell was attached to that name of Thelma?
The more he thought of his morning's adventure, the more puzzled he became.