Barwig was a good listener; that is, he had the faculty
of thinking of something else than what was being said. He had always
been the repository for all her troubles, but until to-day she had
never gone so far as to confess to him the reasons why she had never
married, and would never marry, not if the last man in the world asked
her. She told him of her first engagement and how it had resulted
disastrously, how she had loaned the object of her affections large
sums of money, until finally he ran away, leaving her penniless, and
she had been compelled to work for a living. Von Barwig was very
sympathetic that morning and it was this sympathy which drew her out.

"We live too much in the past, you and I," said Von Barwig. Then,
after a pause, he added: "I, too, have had a loss. You live in your
loss, I in mine. We remember what we should forget and we forget what
we should remember. We must turn to the present, the here, and the
now; the living claims our attention, not the dead. What is gone
before is over and done with. Have done with it. The memory of the
past kills the present and the future. It never cures it. Ah, dear
lady, live in the present; it's your only chance of happiness. Jenny,
August Poons, they are the present! Live in them, don't discount their
happiness, your own happiness, by waiting for some impossible future
for your niece. It is in them, my dear friend, you will find
happiness. It is in them you will find affection and love. It is in
their joy you will find joy; their children shall be your children.
Don't deny yourself that happiness!"

Miss Husted was silent for a long while. Von Barwig took her hand in
his, speaking in a low, gentle voice. "It is the last request I make
before I go to-morrow!"

"Before you go!" cried Miss Husted. "Why, where are you going?"

Von Barwig still held her hand tenderly clasped in his. He looked at
her sadly, but made no answer.

"Professor!" she gasped, and then for the first time she noticed that
his trunk was outside his room; packed, ready to go.

"You're going away?" she wailed pathetically. "You're going away?" The
tears came to her eyes. "Where, where are you going?" she asked in a
tone of entreaty. "Where? Where?"

"Home," he replied simply.

"Home?" she repeated tearfully.

"Home, back to Leipsic. My life here is over. I should have gone
months ago, but I waited to see a dear, dear pupil married. What I
have come for is