Part 32 (1/2)

”Do they not?” she said half inquiringly and musingly. ”I think you must be wrong, Britta. It is impossible that there should be people who are always idle. I do not know what great ladies are like.”

”I do!” And Britta nodded her curly head sagaciously. ”There was a girl from Hammerfest who went to Christiania to seek service--she was handy at her needle, and a fine spinner, and a great lady took her right away from Norway to London. And the lady bought her spinning-wheel for a curiosity she said,--and put it in the corner of a large parlor, and used to show it to her friends, and they would all laugh and say, 'How pretty!' And Jansena,--that was the girl--never span again--she wore linen that she got from the shops,--and it was always falling into holes, and Jansena was always mending, mending, and it was no good!”

Thelma laughed. ”Then it is better to spin, after all, Britta--is it not?”

Britta looked dubious. ”I do not know,” she answered; ”but I am sure great ladies do not spin. Because, as I said to you, Froken, this Jansena's mistress was a great lady, and she never did anything,--no!

nothing at all,--but she put on wonderful dresses, and sat in her room, or was driven about in a carriage. And that is what you will do also, Froken!”

”Oh no, Britta,” said Thelma decisively. ”I could not be so idle. Is it not fortunate I have so much linen ready? I have quite enough for marriage.”

The little maid looked wistful. ”Yes, dear Froken,” she murmured hesitatingly; ”but I was thinking if it is right for you to wear what you have spun. Because, you see, Jansena's mistress had wonderful things all trimmed with lace,--and they would all come back from the was.h.i.+ng torn and hanging in threads, and Jansena had to mend those as well as her own clothes. You see, they do not last at all--and they cost a large sum of money; but it is proper for great ladies to wear them.”

”I am not sure of that, Britta,” said Thelma, still musingly. ”But still, it may be--my bridal things may not please Philip. If you know anything about it, you must tell me what is right.”

Britta was in a little perplexity. She had gathered some idea from her friend Jansena concerning life in London,--she had even a misty notion of what was meant by a ”trousseau” with all its dainty, expensive, and often useless fripperies; but she did not know how to explain her-self to her young mistress, whose simple, almost severe tastes would, she instinctively felt, recoil from anything like ostentation in dress, so she was discreetly silent.

”You know, Britta,” continued Thelma gently, ”I shall be Philip's wife, and I must not vex him in any little thing. But I do not quite understand. I have always dressed in the same way,--and he has never said that he thought me wrongly clothed.”

And she looked down with quite a touching pathos at her straight, white woolen gown, and smoothed its folds doubtfully. The impulsive Britta sprang to her side and kissed her with girlish and unaffected enthusiasm.

”My dear, my dear! You are more lovely and sweet than anybody in the world!” she cried. ”And I am sure Sir Philip thinks so too!”

A beautiful roseate flush suffused Thelma's cheeks, and she smiled.

”Yes, I know he does!” she replied softly. ”And, after all, it does not matter what one wears.”

Britta was meditating,--she looked lovingly at her mistress's rippling wealth of hair.

”Diamonds!” she murmured to herself in a sort of satisfied soliloquy.

”Diamonds, like those you have on your finger, Froken,--diamonds all scattered among your curls like dew-drops! And white satin, all s.h.i.+ning, s.h.i.+ning!--people would take you for an angel!”

Thelma laughed merrily. ”Britta, Britta! You are talking such nonsense!

n.o.body dresses so grandly except queens in fairy-tales.”

”Do they not?” and the wise Britta looked more profound than ever.

”Well, we shall see, dear Froken--we shall see!”

”_We?_” queried Thelma with surprised emphasis.

Her little maid blushed vividly, and looked down demurely, twisting and untwisting the string of her ap.r.o.n.

”Yes, Froken,” she said in a low tone. ”I have asked Sir Philip to let me go with you when you leave Norway.”

”Britta!” Thelma's astonishment was too great for more than this exclamation.

”Oh, my dear! don't be angry with me!” implored Britta, with sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, and excited tongue all pleading eloquently together, ”I should die here without you! I told the _bonde_ so; I did, indeed I And then I went to Sir Philip--he is such a grand gentleman,--so proud and yet so kind,--and I asked him to let me still be your servant. I said I knew all great ladies had a maid, and if I was not clever enough I could learn, and--and--” here Britta began to sob, ”I said I did not want any wages--only to live in a little corner of the same house where you were,--to sew for you, and see you, and hear your voice sometimes--”

Here the poor little maiden broke down altogether and hid her face in her ap.r.o.n crying bitterly.