He seemed bent upon depriving her of the one shred of hope to which she had been clinging. He made her feel even guiltier than before.
“Mr. Barnes,” she pleaded, “let’s not talk of it any more.”
“It’s the only way to settle things,” he answered gently. “There’s no use of hiding our heads in the sand.”
“But Carl has gone. It’s all settled.”
“No,” he answered deliberately. “It’s still very much mixed up for all of us. We can’t help Carl very much except by admitting the truth, and that is that he loves you. He would have made beautiful songs for you if you had loved him.”
“It’s cruel of you to make me feel so guilty,” she protested.
“You misunderstand,” he said gently. “His love was independent of anything you did consciously. You would have had to be other than yourself to have prevented that.”
“I should have known myself better.”
“We can’t correct the past with what we learn, but the Future—there is where our wisdom counts.”
“What will that count for Carl?” she exclaimed, with a queer little cry.