That each
one's seeing it for one's self was what made life hard. Would there not
surely come a day, somewhere in the upward scale, where souls could reach
one another better than this?
But he had stirred her; he knew that by the way she was looking at him
now. Finally she asked, tremblingly, a little resentfully: "Dr. Parkman,
what is it you would have me do?"
"Do something with your life," was his prompt reply. "Help make it right
for Karl."
She caught that up breathlessly. "Make it right for Karl?"
"You say he was always cut off just this side of achievement. Then you
achieve something which will at least show what he was able to inspire."
That sunk so deep that her face went very white.
"But you do not understand," she whispered passionately. "You mean that I
should paint--and I tell you I _cannot_. I tell you it is _dead!_"
"Not necessarily that you should paint. Not just now, if you cannot. But
come back into touch with life. Do something to force yourself back into
it, and then let life itself show you that the other things are not dead
after all.
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