“And you had thought of establishing a pension fund for them, too,” she said.
“Yes, if I could only have gone on.”
“And how well the working men lived! I remember when their wives brought them their meals how pleased and happy they looked!”
“Yes, it’s different now,” said he.
The night was very long; but they kept close to one another, and talked at intervals about the same thing, as if it were a fire that had to be kept up. She even ventured to say: “Don’t you think people would have got pretty good interest on their money, if only you could have gone on in peace?”
“Yes, of course! Why, it was improving all the time—until the rich men grew frightened.”
“Yes, I haven’t understood until now, what a disappointment it must have been for you,” she said with feeling; and burying her head in his shoulder she whispered: “Can you forgive me, Henry? I haven’t been what I should have been.”
He was touched. “Forgive?” he said. “Why, I’ve nothing to forgive! You’ve been so clever, Karen, and have had so much to see to. But I’ll help you now.”
“Don’t talk like that, Henry! I see now that you must have felt paralysed.”