Suddenly she heard some one behind her say: 'Do you like being alone?' It was Morton. 'I'm so used to being alone.' 'Use is a second nature, I will not interrupt your solitude.' 'But sometimes one gets tired of solitude.' 'Would you like to share your solitude? You can have half of mine.' 'I'm sure it is very kind of you, but---' It was on Mildred's tongue to ask him what he had done with Rose Turner. She said instead, 'and where does your solitude hang out?' 'Chiefly in the forest. Shall we go there?' 'Is it far? I don't know where the others have gone.' 'They're in the forest, we walk there every evening; we shall meet them.' 'How far is the forest?' 'At our door. We're in the forest. Come and see. There is the forest,' he said, pointing to a long avenue. 'How bright the moonlight is, one can read by this light.' 'And how wonderfully the shadows of the tall trunks fall across the white road. How unreal, how phantasmal, is that grey avenue shimmering in the moonlight.' 'Yes, isn't the forest ghostlike. And isn't that picturesque,' he said, pointing to a booth that had been set up by the wayside. On a tiny stage a foot or so from the ground, by the light of a lantern and a few candle ends, a man and a woman were acting some rude improvisation. Morton and Mildred stayed; but neither was in the mood to listen. They contributed a trifle each to these poor mummers of the lane's end, and it seemed that their charity had advanced them in their intimacy. Without hesitation they left the road, taking a sandy path which led through some rocks. Mildred's feet sank in the loose sand, and very soon it seemed to her that they had left Barbizon far behind. For the great grey rocks and the dismantled tree trunk which they had suddenly come upon frightened her; and she could hardly bear with the ghostly appearance the forest took in the stream of glittering light which flowed down from the moon. She wished to turn back. But Morton said that they would meet the others beyond the hill, and she followed him through great rocks, filled with strange shadows. The pines stood round the hill-top making it seem like a shrine; a round yellow moon looked through; there was the awe of death in the lurid silence, and so clear was the sky that the points of the needles could be seen upon it. 'We must go back,' she said. 'If you like.' But, at that moment, voices were heard coming over the brow of the hill. 'You see I did not deceive you. There are your friends, I knew we should meet them. That is Miss Laurence's voice, one can always recognise it.' 'Then let us go to them.' 'If you like. But we can talk better here. Let me find you a place to sit down.' Before Mildred could answer, Elsie cried across the glade: 'So there you are.' 'What do you think of the forest?' shouted Cissy. 'Wonderful,' replied Mildred. 'Well, we won't disturb you... we shall be back presently.' And, like ghosts, they passed into the shadow and mystery of the trees.