"Yes, Kervyn."
She looked up, her eyes brilliant as wet stars. And very gently, almost timidly, they exchanged their betrothal, lip to lip.
He drew her to him a little closer—held her so a moment, scarcely in contact. Then they turned again to the grassy ride and moved swiftly forward toward the drive.
Every light in the house had been lit, apparently. The automobile stood before the door; three forest waggons with their big fine horses were in line behind; and servants were loading them with American trunks, suitcases, and luggage of every description, under the active direction of Darrel.
When he saw Guild and Karen coming he called out: "Your luggage is packed! Mrs. Courland and Valentine and their two maids are filling hampers with bed linen and knick-knacks. You've heard what's happened, of course?"
"Yes," said Guild. "I don't think you had better waste any more time packing. Let the ladies get into the car and start. Michaud and I can gather up what's left of their effects and send it after them in the last waggon! Where is Michaud?"
"Talking to Mrs. Courland inside. Here he comes, now!——"
The white-haired forester came out behind Mrs. Courland, caught sight of Guild, and made a slight gesture expressing infinite despair.
"I know," said Guild. "I'll talk it over with you after the household leaves." And to Mrs. Courland, who appeared calm but a trifle dazed: "Miss Girard offers you Quellenheim for the night, and for longer if you desire."
"Please," said Karen, coming forward—"it would be very gracious of you to come. Will you, Mrs. Courland?"