now. What had
happened? She did not know; but it was something that made it impossible
to throw herself in Tante's arms and weep.

Then she saw that another person was with them. A man was seated on the
distant sofa. He rose, wandering slowly down the room, and revealed
himself in the dim light that came from the evening sky and sea as Mr.
Claude Drew. Pausing at some little distance he fixed his eyes on Karen,
and in the midst of all the impressions, striking like chill, moulding
blows on the melted iron of her mood, she was aware of these large, dark
eyes of Mr. Drew's and of their intent curiosity.

The predominant impression, however, was of a changed aspect in
everything, and as Tante, now holding her hands, still stood silent,
also looking at her with intent curiosity, the impression vaguely and
terribly shaped itself for her as a piercing question: Was Tante not
glad to have her back?

There came from Tante in another moment a more accustomed note.

"You have left your husband--because of me--my poor child?"

Karen nodded. Mr. Drew's presence made speech impossible.

"He made it too difficult for you?"

Karen nodded again.

"And you have come back to me." Madame von Marwitz summed it up rather
than inquired. And then, after another pause, she folded Karen in her
arms.

The piercing question seemed answered. Yet Karen could not now have
wept. A dry, hard desolation filled her. "May I go to my room, Tante?"

"Yes, my child. Go to your room. You will find Tallie. Tallie is in the
house, I think--or did I send her in to Helston?--no, that was for
to-morrow." She held Karen's hand at a stretch of her arm while she
seemed, with difficulty still, to collect her thoughts. "But I will come
with you myself. Yes; that is best. Wait here, Claude." This to the
silent, dusky figure behind them.

"Do not let me be a trouble." Karen controlled the trembling of her
voice. "I know my way."

"No trouble, my child; no trouble. Or none that I am not glad to take."

Tante had her now on the stair--her arm around her shoulders. "You will
find us at sixes and sevens; a household hastily organized, but Tallie,
directed by wires, has done wonders. So. My poor Karen. You have left
him. For good? Or is it only to punish him that you come to me?"

"I have left him for good."

"So," Madame von Marwitz repeated.

With all the veils and fluctuations, one thing was growing clear to
Karen. Tante might be glad to have her back