Guild asked to be driven to an inn, and the housekeeper seemed surprised. There was no inn. Her orders were to prepare a room for Herr Guild, who was expected to remain over night. She regretted that she could not make them more comfortable, but the Lodge had been closed all summer, and she had remained alone with her son Fritzl to care for the place. There seemed to be nothing for him to do but to stay over night. Karen, waiting for his decision, looked pale and tired. "Very well," he said to Frau Bergner, who curtsied and went away for their candles. Then he walked over to where Karen was standing, lifted her hand and touched the slender fingers with his lips. "Good night," she said; "I hope your dreams will be agreeable." "I hope yours will be, also." "I hope so. I shall try to continue a dream which I had on the train. It was an odd one--something about a frontier and a sentry box. You woke me before I had entirely crossed the frontier. I'd like to cross and find out what really is on the other side." He laughed: "I hope you will find, there, whatever you desire." "I--hope so. Because if I should cross the boundary and find--nobody--there, it might make me unhappy for the rest of my life." And she looked up at him with a slight blush on her cheeks. Then her features grew grave, her eyes serious, clear, and wistful. "I think I am--learning to care--a great deal for you. Don't let me if I shouldn't. Tell me while there is time." She turned as the housekeeper came with the lighted candles. Guild stood aside for her to pass, his grave face lowered, silent before this young girl's candour and the troubled sincerity of her avowal. In his own room, the lighted candle still in his hand, he stood motionless, brooding on what she had said. And in his heart he knew that, although he had never liked any woman as much as he liked this young girl, he was not in love with her. And, somehow or other, he must tell her so--while there was still time. CHAPTER XVI THE FOREST LISTENS He awoke in a flood of brightest sunshine; his bed, the floor, the walls, were bathed in it; netted reflections of water danced and quivered on the ceiling; and he lay looking at it, pleasantly conscious of green leaves stirring near his open window and of the golden splashing of a fountain. There was a little bird out there, too, diligently practicing a few notes. The song was not elaborate. Translated, it seemed to consist of tweet! tweet! twilly-willy-willy! repeated an indefinite number of times. Curious to discover what his surroundings resembled he rose and looked out of the curtained window. There was a grassy carrefour where a fountain spouted into a stone pool; all else was forest; a stream sparkled between tree-trunks, bridged where the drive crossed it.