"Yes. In that way did it betray me. Forget it, Alma. Forget me. Forget everything. Forget that I ever came here——"
"No—never. I cannot."
"You will be married soon and go away. I presume we may never meet again."
"Oh, Elmer, forgive me. I am the one to be forgiven. I am alone to blame for all this sorrow. I thought I alone should suffer. But—but, Elmer, you will not forget me, and you see—you must see that what I do is for the best. It is the only way. I cannot see my father beggared."
The clear-headed son of science seemed to be losing his self-control. This was all so new, so exciting, so different from the calm and steady flow of his student life, that he knew not what to say or do. He began to turn over his books and papers in a nervous manner, as if trying to win back control of his own tumultuous thoughts. Fortunately Alma came to his rescue.
"Elmer, hear me."
"Yes," he said with an effort. "Tell me about it; then perhaps we can understand each other better."
"I will. Come and sit by me. It grows dark, and I—well, it is no matter. It will do me good to speak of it."
"Yes, do. Sorrow shared is divided by half."
"And joy shared is doubled," she added. "But we will not talk of 'the might have been.'"