here is Tallie?"

"Still in the garden, I think. I worked with her this morning and before
tea. Since tea I have had a walk."

"Where did you walk?" Madame von Marwitz inquired, moving now over to
the upright piano and bending to examine in the dusk the music that
stood on it. Karen described her route.

"But it is lonely, very lonely, for you, is it not?" Tante murmured
after a moment's silence. Karen said nothing and she went on, "And it
will be still more lonely if, as I think probable, I must leave you here
before long. I shall be going; perhaps to Italy."

A sensation of oppression that she could not have analyzed passed over
Karen. Why was Tante going to Italy? Why must she leave Les Solitudes?
Her mind could not rest on the supposition that her own presence drove
Tante forth, that the broken _tete-a-tete_ was to be resumed under less
disturbing circumstances. She could not ask Tante if Mr. Drew was to be
in Italy; yet this was the question that pressed on her heart.

"Oh, but I am very used to Les Solitudes," she said.

"Used to it. Yes. Too used to it," said Madame von Marwitz, seating
herself now near Karen, her eyes still moving about the room. "But it is
not right, it is not fitting, that you should spend your youth here.
That was not the destiny I had hoped for you. I came here to find you,
Karen, so that I might talk to you." Her fingers slightly tapped her
chair-arm. "We must talk. We must see what is to be done."

"Do you mean about me, Tante?" Karen asked after a moment. The look of
the ghostly room and of the white, enfolded figure seated before her
with its restless eyes seemed part of the chill that Tante's words
brought.

"About you. Yes. About who else, _parbleu_!" said Madame von Marwitz
with a slight laugh, her eyes shifting about the room; and with a change
of tone she added: "I have it on my heart--your situation--day and
night. Something must be done and I am prepared to do it."

"To do what?" asked Karen. Her voice, too, had changed, but not, as
Madame von Marwitz's, to a greater sweetness.

"Well, to save it--the situation; to help you." Madame von Marwitz's ear
was quick to catch the change. "And I have come, my Karen, to consult
with you. It is a matter, many would say, for my pride to consider; but
I will not count my pride. Your happiness, your dignity, your future are
the things that weigh with me. I am prostrated, made ill, by the
miserable affair; you see it, you see that I