Who Goes There!

"He was very kind. He wished to adopt me and give me his name. He was very insistent, too – a man – Kervyn, not unlike you – in some respects. But I never dreamed of permitting him to sway me – as you do.

"He knew my desire for a stage career; he has for three years attempted to destroy in me that desire. When I had no engagement, or was studying, he insisted that I stay with his brother and his brother's wife, with whom he lived. He spoke freely of his desire and intention of legally adopting me, called me his daughter when he spoke to others of me – and always I felt the constant, iron pressure of his will – always – not harshly, but with the kindly patience of resolution.

"Then I decided to go to England, study, and if possible gain some experience on the London stage.

"And then" – she bit her lip – "I think I may say it – to you– not saying it lightly, Kervyn – then, on the eve of my departure, he asked me to marry him.

"And because he would not accept my answer he exacted of me a promise that in November I would return to Berlin, give him my final answer, and choose then between marrying him or a return to the profession I care for most.

"That is my history, Kervyn. No man has ever figured in it; none except General Baron von Reiter has ever even invaded it … until you have done so … and have made your wishes mine – I don't know how – and your will my inclination – and me more than the friend I was.

"One thing only you could not do – and in my heart I know you do not wish it of me – and that is, make me break my word – make me forget a promise.

"Now I have told you all," she said with a little sigh, and lay there looking at him.

"Not all, Karen."

"Yes, I think so."

"No. You have not told me what answer you mean to make."

Her eyes opened at that. "I am not in love. What answer should I make?"

"You return to your career?"

"Of course, once my promise is kept."

"What promise?"

"To see him and tell him what I have decided."

"Do you think he might persuade you?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly."

He said, looking at her with a hint of a smile in his eyes: "Do you think I might ever persuade you to give up your career?"

She smiled frankly: "I don't think so."

"Not if I asked?"

"You wouldn't do such a thing."

"I might if I fell in love with you."

She lay perfectly still, quite tranquil, looking up at him. Suddenly her expression changed.

"Is it likely?" she said, the tint of excitement in her cheeks.

"Do you think so?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

"It's perfectly possible I imagine."

"That you could fall in love with me?"

"Yes."

After a moment she laughed as a child laughs at the prospect of beholding wonders.

"Kervyn," she said, "please do so. I will give you every opportunity if you will remain at Trois Fontaines."

"I mean to remain in that vicinity," he said, meaningly; and she laughed again, deliciously, almost maliciously.

"It would finish you thoroughly," she said. "It would be poetic justice with a vengeance."

"Your vengeance?"

"Yes, mine. Oh, if you only did do that!"

"I think, considering the way you look at it, that I'd better not," he said, rather seriously. "Besides, I've no time."

"No time to fall in love with me?"

"No time."

"Why?"

"Shall I tell you?"

"Yes, please."

"Very well. Because after I have the papers I shall enter the Belgian army." He added with a hint of impatience – "Where I belong and where I ought to be now."

She became very silent at that. After a few moments she said: "Had you decided to do that before I met you?"

"Yes. I was on my way – trying to avoid the very trap I fell into."

"The German army?"

"Yes."

After another silence she said: "I shall be very sorry when you go. I shall think of you when I am in England."