And yet, in spite of everything, I can't find it in my
heart to be sorry that I came to Four Winds. It seems
to me that, bad as everything is, it would be still
worse never to have known Leslie. It's burning,
searing pain to love her and leave her--but not to have
loved her is unthinkable. I suppose all this sounds
very crazy--all these terrible emotions always do sound
foolish when we put them into our inadequate words.
They are not meant to be spoken--only felt and endured.
I shouldn't have spoken--but it has helped-- some. At
least, it has given me strength to go away respectably
tomorrow morning, without making a scene. You'll write
me now and then, won't you, Mrs. Blythe, and give me
what news there is to give of her?"
"Yes," said Anne. "Oh, I'm so sorry you are
going--we'll miss you so--we've all been such friends!
If it were not for this you could come back other
summers. Perhaps, even yet--by-and-by--when you've
forgotten, perhaps--"
"I shall never forget--and I shall never come back to
Four Winds," said Owen briefly.
Silence and twilight fell over the garden.
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