Who Goes There!

"In what way? You are not in love, are you, Karen?"

"I think – a – little."

"With whom?"

No answer.

"Not with me?"

"Yes." She turned swiftly in the depths of her chair to confront him as he sprang to his feet.

"Wait!" she managed to say; and remained silent, one slim hand against her breast. And, after a moment: "Would you not come any nearer, please."

"Karen – "

"Not now, please… Sit there where you were… I can tell you better – all I know – about it."

She bent again over her needle, sewing half blindly, the hurrying pulses making her hand unsteady. After he was seated she turned her head partly around for a moment, looking at him with a fascinated and almost breathless curiosity.

"If I tell you, you will come no nearer; will you?" she asked.

"No. Tell me."

She sewed for a while at random, not conscious what her fingers were doing, striving to think clearly in the menace of these new emotions, the power of which she was divining now, realizing more deeply every second.

"I'll try to tell you," she said: "I didn't know anything – about myself – this morning. What we had been to each other I considered friendship. Remember it was my first friendship with a man. And – I thought it was that."

After a silence: "Was it anything deeper?" he asked.

"Yes, deeper… You frightened me at first… I was hurt… But not ashamed or angry. And I did not understand why… Until you spoke and said – what you said."

"That I love you?"

"Yes… After that things grew slowly clearer to me. I don't know what I said to you – half the things I said on the way back – only that I made you angry – and I continued, knowing that you were angry and that I – I was almost laughing – I don't know why – only that I needed time to try to think… You can't understand, can you?"

"I think so."

She looked up, then bowed her head once more.

"That is all," she said under her breath.

"Nothing more, Karen?"

"Only that – after you had gone away this afternoon I began to be a little in love."

"Will it grow?"

"I think so."

"May I tell you that I love you?"

"Yes, please."

His clasped hands tightened on his knees; he said in a low unsteady voice: "All my heart is yours, Karen – all there is in me of love and loyalty, honour and devotion, is yours. Into my mind there is no thought that comes which is not devoted to you or influenced by my adoration of you. I love you – every word you utter, every breath you draw, every thought you think I love. The most wonderful thing in the world would be that you should love me; the greatest miracle that you might marry me. Dare I hope for you, Karen?"

"Yes – please."

"That you will grow to really love me?"

"Yes."

"With all your heart?"

"I think so."

In the tremulous silence she turned again and looked at him, bending very low over her work.

"Will you be gentle with me, Kervyn?"

"Dearest – "

"I mean – considerate – at first… There is a great deal I don't know about men – and being in love with one of them… Brought up as I have been, I could not understand that you should take me – in your arms… I was not angry – not even ashamed… Only, never having thought of it – and taking it for granted that, among people of your caste and mine, to touch a man's lips was an act – of betrothal – perhaps of marriage – "

"Dearest, it was!"

"Yes, I understand now. But for a while I felt – strangely – overwhelmed… You can understand – having no mother – and suddenly face to face with – you – "

She leaned her cheek against the back of the chair and rested so, her small white hands folded over her sewing.

"I have yet to see Baron Kurt," she said half to herself. "I shall say to him that I care for you. After that – when you come back, and if you wish me to marry you – ask me."

He stood up: "How near may I come to you, Karen?"

"Not very near – just now."

"Near enough to kiss your finger-tip."

"Yes, please."

Without turning her head she extended her arm; his lips touched lightly the fragrant skin, and she pressed her fingers a trifle closer – a second only – then her arm fell to her lap.

"After dinner," she said, "I shall show you the roses in the garden."

"They are no sweeter than your hand, Karen."

She smiled, her flushed cheek still resting against the cushions.

"It is very wonderful, very gentle after all," she murmured to herself.